Never Losing Sight

Back in 2012, I underwent LASIK surgery. I did lots of research about the different types of procedures, what was involved, as well as the side effects. I knew many people had already walked this path before I did, but, for me, this was a huge deal. After all, you only have one pair of eyes. What if something happened? What if I ended up with double vision or halos at night? Even worse than that…what if I lost my sight?! I’m happy to report that the surgery went off without a hitch, and here I am seven years later still with great eyesight. It fascinates me every day that I wake up and can see across the room clearly without the aid of glasses or contacts. I mention all this because something crossed my mind recently, and it’s really got me thinking. If you had one last day of sight, what would you do? Where would you go? What would hold your gaze? What would you want the last image to be that you’d remember forever?

Would you take in a beautiful sunrise or sunset? Would you go watch one last baseball game? Would you stay in and watch every one of your favorite movies? Would you stare for hours at the faces of your loved ones, memorizing every line, every smile, every expression? How do you choose? How could you? Just the thought of this brings me to tears.

I know that most of the time, I take my vision for granted. Sure, I am still the type to always stop and smell the flowers. I marvel at the beauty around me. I appreciate the colors that seem to evolve into hues I’ve never imagined. The patterns and details of the world around me can be mind-boggling, but what, in the end, would I choose as the last thing I ever saw? It’s a question I hope I never have to answer for real.

Would my life be over if I lost my sight? No. Would it be an extremely difficult adjustment given I’ve been able to see my entire life? Absolutely! In the end, the point is to appreciate this amazing gift of being able to envision the world around me and to never lose sight of what’s truly important.

Remembering So I Won’t Forget

I wasn’t running for my life; I was walking to get my lunch. There weren’t people around me in a panic; I was completely alone. There was no smoke…no fumes. The path was well lit, and I exited to a quiet corridor before making my way to the deli. Just as I did last year on this day, I took the long way down to the first floor so that I could, on some very, very small scale, get a glimpse into how those in the two towers felt as they fled the burning buildings. I only had to go down 11 flights. Eleven…in non-life-threatening conditions.

I thought about this as I walked, at a steady pace, down each step. I didn’t have to wonder if I’d make it out the door at the bottom. I didn’t have to worry about being trampled by others or suffocated by horrible smoke. I had the benefit of making the choice to take the stairs instead of knowing it was my only option. What a different experience so many people had 18 years ago.

The time seems to have passed so quickly. I think about what has happened to me personally since then. I have bought and sold a house. I’ve gone through the entire gamut of infertility treatments multiple times. I’ve gotten divorced. I’ve moved. I’ve moved again…and again…and finally again back home. I’ve started and left multiple jobs. I’ve bought a car. I’ve written and published a book. I’ve been parasailing, ziplining, and white water rafting. I’ve become a Zumba instructor. I’ve lost those very dear to me, including my last grandparent, many friends and other family members, as well as all three of my dogs who were like my children. When I look at it in these terms, it seems so incredibly significant.

These types of experiences, some extraordinary and others very trying, are what made me into the person I am today. How different my life would be without the last 18 years or even just one of the items listed above. Putting the events of my life into perspective makes the scope of what happened in 2001 that much more impactful. Multiply what transpired in my life during this time period by 2,977 – one for each life lost. Every person that number represents had countless friends and family members whose lives were also affected. When you think of the impact on that scale, it’s all the more important reason that we must never forget.

You Can’t Plan Patience

I’m a planner. I consider every single detail when preparing for an event and do my best cover all aspects. I’ve always been the type to think several steps ahead, as I can usually anticipate what’s to come. What I’ve learned, especially over the last year, is that this only goes so far. At some point, despite all the prep work you do, there will always be factors out of your control. This has been on the forefront of my mind lately, and it got me thinking of Morgan Freeman.

Naturally, that’s the obvious thing that comes to mind. 😉

Years ago, I watched the movie Evan Almighty with Steve Carell. It was one of those movies where you can just sit back and enjoy it for its pure entertainment factor. You see, Steve Carell plays Evan Baxter, a freshman Congressman. He is visited by G-d, and is commanded to build an ark because a great flood is coming. I won’t spoil the movie for those who haven’t seen it, but there is one scene where Evan’s wife, Joan, is talking with G-d, played by Morgan Freeman (now you see the connection). In this scene, Joan is very concerned with how Evan is acting and isn’t sure what to do. Part of what G-d tells her is this:

“Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, you think G-d gives them patience? Or does He give them the opportunity to be patient?”

This one line has been stuck in my head since the first time I saw this movie. Now I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a religious person, so I’m not necessarily looking at this from a religious aspect. What struck me about it is the fact that I get very frustrated when things don’t follow my timeline. I tend to move quickly and mark things off my to-do list as soon as possible. After all, it only goes as slowly as I do, and I don’t move slowly. The part that bugs me is when I’m in the “hurry up and wait” stage of something where I’m waiting on someone else to complete their tasks so I can move on to the next step/phase of my plan. This is when things are out of my control and ultimately slow down my momentum. Every time this happens though, that Evan Almighty quote pops into my head. It’s my constant reminder that this is not mean to irritate me, but is rather an opportunity to learn patience.

Being able to flip the situation like this has saved my sanity countless times, including now. When I look back on my life and think about all the times I was in a similar situation, I wasn’t able to see that things just have a way of working themselves out. I would spend so much time and energy worrying and focusing on what wasn’t done and what I couldn’t control that I would forget the opportunity for patience set before me. Fortunately, this is something I’m getting better at recognizing. I may still have my initial reaction, which usually includes some swearing and maybe a snack or two, but when I take that step back, the end result comes into focus and the rest of the noise fades.

Pausing Fast Forward

When we’re little we want so much to be grown up. As a little girl, you try on your mom’s shoes. You put on makeup. You can’t wait for the day when you can finally drive. What’s interesting is that when you finally become an adult, with adult responsibilities, you wish for nothing more than to be able to go back to when you didn’t have any worries greater than choosing the right bowl for your Cookie Crisp cereal so you could finally sit down to watch Superfriends on Saturday morning cartoons.

This whole scenario got me thinking about how I’m always wanting to fast forward to when things are different or settled. I wish my future self could somehow send me a message to tell me to just enjoy how things are now because the future comes with even more complications. Now, part of me knows that will probably be the case, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to fast forward like I did when I was a kid.

What is it within us that causes this desire in the first place? Is it the uncertainty of our present lives? Is it the “grass is always greener” approach when thinking about the future? How do I turn this off? Would knowing the complications of my future life cause me to make different choices or is it already mapped out? It’s almost as if it’s an unconscious occurrence that I am powerless to prevent from happening.

The present me thinks back to the me of the recent past with a different perspective. I reminisce about enjoying a morning jog in the quiet neighborhood near my apartment. I cherish knowing that at the time in my past I had financial security along with a steady job. The problem then was that I wanted something more. Maybe it’s those wants that causes the future fast forward phenomenon to jump into action. Part of me now can already recognize that with change comes a lot of unknowns. My goal then needs to be to learn to find that pause button so I don’t miss something my future self looks back on as a fond memory.

I Will Become A Reader

At the first of the year, many of us set forth with yet another New Year’s resolution in the effort to better ourselves. Many times this comes in the form of starting a new diet or fitness regimen. I too have made these pledges to myself only to see them fade out after about six weeks.

Last year, I finally checked something HUGE off my bucket list when I published my book, We’re All Rubber Bands: Finding happiness with who you are. What many people don’t know is that I had the book pretty much finished a year and a half earlier, but I just couldn’t figure out what to call it. I obviously got that problem solved, and now, here I sit, over six months later, a published author.

So…what’s next? Well, I’m glad you asked.

I got to thinking that I really enjoy the creativity of writing. It allows me to express myself and get those weird, random thoughts out of my head, but I haven’t done much of it since I moved back home to Arlington, TX. I do write, actually, it’s just in my personal journal. There’s something about putting a pen to paper that helps me get out of my head what is bothering me. It’s just that I still have so many other things I want to write about, so I’m definitely going to commit to writing and publishing blogs more often. Of course there’s a good reason for this. You see, I have a goal for the year!

This year I am going to become a READER!

I know many of you may think this is silly, but let me explain. I have a good number of books. I even have a tradition, for the most part, that when I buy a new book, I also buy a new bookmark. You’d think that because of this, I have a bunch of random bookmarks lying about. NOPE! That’s the problem. I have a ton of bookmarks, but they’re IN the books…usually about 30-50 pages in. Yeah, I start reading and then “SQUIRREL!!” I get distracted or lose interest, and then the sad bookmark just sits there begging to be moved to a page it hasn’t read over and over for years.

So…my goal this year is to read a minimum of two books every month. I will admit that I mostly read nonfiction, since that is what I enjoy writing, but I’m going to branch out and see what else is out there as well. I’m happy to report that as of today, I have completed my goal for January and half of my goal for February. I plan to start my next book tomorrow and have chosen a fiction novel to read.

One thing that I have discovered since starting this last month was that I am enjoying the quiet time. I’ve always been a podcast kinda gal, but it’s difficult to quiet your mind when someone is yapping at you about some topic you stopped listening to several minutes ago. Now, I look forward to the stillness that comes with reading.

I’m also excited to build a really great collection of books that I’ve read. I’m picturing a cool bookcase with all of my literary conquests displayed. I’ll even be sure to put my OWN book on one of the shelves as a tribute to all my hard work. Who knows…maybe one day I’ll need TWO bookcases!

Scary dreams aren’t always nightmares

I have been very blessed over the last few months to be part of group that has changed me in ways I never expected. They have caused me to take an honest look at myself, and I have discovered strength I never knew I had. They have lit a fire in me that had yet to be ignited. Most importantly, they have helped me clear a path that’s allowing me to dream bigger than I ever thought possible. The truth is, my dreams are terrifying me, but just because a dream is scary doesn’t make it a nightmare.

I keep hearing the quote repeated, “If your dreams don’t scare you, they’re not big enough.” Many times we limit ourselves because we think that there is no way we could take it to the next level. That would require too much change or too much work. This limited thinking is what keeps us in a rut. It prevents us from achieving our true potential. It tells us that the status quo is all we can hope for and switches off the light shining on what we truly want in life. This fire I mentioned has been like a torch that is illuminating a new path…a different path than I’ve been on for most of my adult life.

For a while, I’ve felt the need to shake things up. I’ve gotten too comfortable with where I am and what I’m doing. I needed that nudge and the permission to dream big. Is there a risk of failing or losing something in the process? Sure! That’s a risk I’m willing to take. The difference is, I refuse to “what if” my life anymore. I would rather regret the things I’ve done than the things I haven’t.

I’ve had moments of second guessing myself. I bounce between being extremely excited and fighting back tears. Honestly, it’s a bit exhausting! I guess you could say I’m on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, but I keep reminding myself that I’m the one laying down the track. I’m pushing myself way outside my comfort zone. As I make it back to the station after a few loops and drops, I’m able to refocus and trust that things will work out the way they are supposed to.

I know I’m not the first person to do this, and I definitely won’t be the last, but I’m not going to let fear hold me back this time. The unknown can be scary, but imagine what you could accomplish if you removed the fear factor. Imagine what dreams you could chase if you simply removed the tether holding you in place. Don’t let your mind convince you a scary dream is a nightmare in disguise. Your life is an occasion. Rise to it!

 

Flights of Fancy

Today, while I was walking down the 13 flights of stairs to check the mail in my office building, my mind started wandering. About a flight down, I saw the same empty paper cup sitting on the railing. The two previous days I made the same trek, I walked by it figuring that someone from the maintenance crew would make a sweep of the staircase in order to remove any trash. I was wrong. Instead of walking by again, I stopped and picked it up to dispose of it once I reached the first floor. This got me thinking about sayings I’ve heard over the years that I do my best to try to live by. I thought I’d share some of them with you.

Always leave a place in better shape than you found it.
(This applies to staircases, jobs, and even Girl Scout campsites.)

You give what you get.

When someone shows you who they are, believe them!

Whether you think you can or think you can’t, you’re right.

Do or do not. There is no try.
(Yoda was one smart Jedi!)

Criticize in private. Compliment in public.

A closed mouth gathers no feet.

Anything worth doing is worth doing right.

I’m always on the lookout for my next mantra. I would love to hear your favorites as well.

So, I did a thing…

This has been a long time coming, but I’m excited to announce that on July 31st, I finally published my book, “We’re All Rubber Bands: Finding happiness with who you are.” This is a collection of some of my favorite blogs that I’ve posted over the years along with some additional comments following each chapter. As you will see on the back cover of the book,

Life can test you to your limits. Sometimes, it may even break you. We’re All Rubber Bands is about bouncing back to who you are at your core, learning to laugh at yourself, and finding strength with the beautiful, imperfect person that you have always been.

This has been a labor of love that has taken me many years to finally finish, and I’m happy to say that I was even able to self-publish it. I am excited to have created something truly mine, including the cover artwork. I have to say that it has been absolutely bizarre to see something I’ve done show up on websites like Lulu.com, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble.

As my earlier blog post mentions, it really does take a village. I wouldn’t have gotten here without the love and support of so many, and for that, I’m eternally grateful. It’s pretty amazing to be able to say you can mark something off of your bucket list.

The response so far has been pretty humbling in a fantastic way, so it makes all the work I put into it all the more worth it. I’m looking forward to a multitude of reviews and even have an idea for another book, which will probably take another few years to write. I’ve got a lot of exciting things in the works, and I am definitely looking forward to my next chapter. Here’s to turning the page.

 

The Safety of the Street Light

Whenever I misplaced something growing up, my dad would always tell me that, “it will always be in the last place you look.” Gee…thanks, dad! After all, who would keep looking after they found what they were seeking? What about the person who is searching for something nowhere near where they lost it just because it’s easier? It doesn’t make much sense, does it? This is what is known as the Streetlight Effect.

This can best be described by a short story about a drunk man who has lost his keys. He is standing under a street light trying to find them when a police officer walks up and asks him what he is looking for. Upon telling the officer what he lost, they both begin searching together for the keys. After several minutes of looking, the officer asks the drunk man if he’s sure he lost them there. The drunk man points across the street into the darkness and tells the officer that he lost his keys over there in the park. The police officer asks him why he’s searching here, to which the drunk man replies, “This is where the light is.”

I pondered this for a while and wondered why is it in life we try to find the easy way out? Why do we search for answers in the wrong places? Why do we want the “get rich quick” scheme to work instead of focusing our efforts towards the target we’re trying to reach? It feels lately as if someone has discovered me crouched under a street light searching for what I seek most – happiness.

Sure, trying to be happy with what you have and what you’re already doing is a good thing, but trying and being are two completely different things. After all, wouldn’t you rather spend time doing some real soul searching if it meant you would find what you seek? Wouldn’t it be worth it to step away from the view and safety beneath your street light in order to find your keys to happiness? Remember what my dad said – you’ll always find what you seek in the last place you look. It’s a good thing I’m smart enough to grab my flashlight.

My Spiralized Life

Not long after I started my current job, I was introduced to a nifty kitchen gadget called a spiralizer. In case you’re not familiar, this tool takes a vegetable, such as a zucchini, and turns it into long, thin noodles. It does so by turning it while it’s being cut. When you’re finally done, the resulting pile looks nothing like what you started with, but it sure can make for some good meals. This got me thinking tonight. My life is a lot like a spiralized vegetable.

I can go along for months or years feeling like my life is solid and stable. For whatever unforeseen reasons, every so often, my life can put me in a spin causing things to get all out of whack. It feels like I’m not sure which end is up and I’m just holding on for dear life. What I usually find is that after all is said and done, I come out happier and healthier on the other side. It’s a kind of personal metamorphosis. The trouble is, when the spiralizing is taking place, I’m never sure how long it will last.

I guess I feel like I’m in one of these topsy-turvy times right now. I know I will feel an awakening after it’s ended, but until then, I’m hoping that the view isn’t too dizzying.

Gandalf Lives!

It’s been said that all women need two people in their lives they can trust: a hair stylist and a mechanic. I’m happy to say my hair has been taken well care of by the same person for the last 17+ years. The mechanic part…well…let’s just say I haven’t been as lucky. I thought I had that one taken care of years ago but instead got ROYALLY screwed as the result of his dishonesty. I’ve now had Gandalf with me the last 5+ years. He’s a gray Kia Rondo, and I plan to drive him until he falls apart. I thought the end was in sight this weekend, but instead, my eyes were opened to yet another dishonest mechanic.

It’s been on my bucket list to take an automotive class so I’m better equipped to handle things myself, or at least discuss them with some knowledge. Hell, I’ve changed the oil in my car before and even, under the guidance of a good friend, changed out Gandalf’s brakes and rotors. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty, but there are some things that are too involved for me to do. That’s when I leave things up to the experts.

A few months ago, I was having some issues with Gandalf, so I took him in to have him looked at in hopes the issue could be corrected. I wasn’t able to go to my usual mechanic, as they are no longer open on the weekends. Instead, I went to a place, a chain, that my parents have used for as long as I can remember. I felt I was in good hands since it was like keeping it in the family, so to speak. It was discovered that the catalytic converter was shot and it needed to be replaced. (I am now questioning if that was even the case.)

The part was ordered, and when it finally came in, I waited at the store for several hours while the job was completed. Upon being checked out, and after all the work was done, I was told then that they didn’t realize that the part that was ordered was going to cause some noise that sounded much like I was driving a hot rod. I was told by the manager that if it bothered me to let him know and they’d order the other part and replace it for me.

After two days of driving my 17-mile-one-way commute, I called and told them that it had to go. How people drive a car with that racket is totally beyond me! They ordered the part and said they’d call me when it came in. I waited almost two weeks. Finally, after having to call multiple times, they confirmed the part was in and my appointment was scheduled. I waited, again, for several hours while they removed and replaced the catalytic converter, and all seemed fine.

This brings me to last Saturday.

It has only been a few months since the replacement of the catalytic converter when I began hearing some noise when accelerating that sounded much like a knocking or rattling, It was almost like someone was spinning a lottery wheel hoping to land on a good prize. It was extremely annoying, however Gandalf seemed to drive fine despite that. There was no oil light on. There was no check engine light on. Regardless, I called and made an appointment with the same place and was sure to describe the issue. They agreed that it was probably the heat shield and they could look at it on Saturday morning.

I got there right on time for my appointment. Once Gandalf was examined, this is what I was told by the manager. He said that the problem is that there was no oil in the car. Apparently there was an oil leak and no oil was showing on the dipstick. He then said that whoever did my last oil change “owes me a new engine.” (His exact words.) The knocking sound was one of the rods in the engine that was broken and that the only recourse was to buy a new car or completely replace the engine on a model they don’t make anymore. He and the other manager both felt like Gandalf wouldn’t last very long, and I shouldn’t wait to start looking. Nothing was repaired, but they did put in about 2 quarts of oil at no charge to bring me up to 4 ½ quarts. It turns out that just because there is no oil on the dipstick doesn’t mean there’s no oil in the engine. I was due for an oil change, but after being told Gandalf was done, I didn’t figure I should bother with that added expense.

The manager also mentioned that the reason that their oil changes take an hour is because they take the time to look at the car in case anything else is wrong. He said that had they done the oil change, they would have found the leak and fixed it then. He said that the lack of oil in the engine ruined it. It was broken…and so was my heart.

I spoke to the manager and district manager for the prior service center, both at the suggestion of this shop’s manager. I got nowhere. They said they noted it on the ticket. I then told the district manager that it’s ridiculous that they’ll verbally upsell you on every service under the sun, but when there’s a physical problem with your car, they simply “make note” for you. Poor Gandalf.

After leaving the mechanic, I sat, dumbfounded for a while trying to figure out where to start. Thanks to suggestions from several friends, I spent the rest of the day, until 9:00 pm, looking at cars. At a minimum, it was going to cost me around $16,000 for a pre-owned vehicle. I had not planned to spend my entire day doing this, but after the grim news from both the managers, I felt I didn’t have a choice.

Yesterday, a good friend took a look at Gandalf, and then we took him for a short drive. He seemed to think that the sound wasn’t coming from the engine, but he did notice that there was oil sprayed on the underside of the hood, so that could have been part of the issue. After his examination, I felt the need to get a second opinion, as I was not happy about having to shell out $16,000 for a car.

Today, I took Gandalf into an auto repair place I have used in the past. They have been very honest about their work and I trust them completely. Again, the only reason I wasn’t going to them was that they weren’t open on the weekends. Fortunately, I was off work today, so I was able to schedule an appointment. Pretty quickly, they noticed the oil leak, but realized that it can be fixed by getting a new front crank shaft seal kit. This runs about $15 for the part and $585 for the labor, as it’s a very involved process…which they fully explained.

Regarding the knocking, it was discovered very quickly that it was NOT coming from the engine. In fact, it was nowhere near the engine. I stood with them under the car and saw for myself the source of the sound. It was coming from the REAR catalytic converter. It was BEYOND obvious that was what was making the noise…even to me! They confirmed that the issue is either with the heat shield or with something that was knocked loose when the front catalytic converter was replaced and is now rattling around inside. The cost to fix this would be no more than $562 for the part. Given the location, it was much easier to replace if need be, so the labor would be much less. Because they may not even need the part, it could be an easier, and less expensive fix.

My gratefulness to these guys was diminished in part by the pure FURY I had for the prior shop. HOW ON EARTH can someone who works on cars day in and day out not be able to locate the source of a noise that is not only BEHIND the front wheels but is located in the middle of the car with nothing around it?!?! The other shop almost cost me $16,000 (at a minimum) when the cost to repair these FIXABLE issues won’t cost more than $1500 for both the catalytic converter and the oil leak. The technicians who looked at Gandalf today were dumbfounded as to how this was missed. They simply couldn’t explain it given how obvious it was. All I can say is that this place now has a loyal customer for life!

I have already reported this to the Better Business Bureau and will be posting a negative review on Yelp and any other place I can find. I have emailed their area manager with all the details as well. I will never step foot back inside that place again, which is sad given that my parents have always been loyal customers for as long as I can remember. How this was missed is totally beyond me. I put my trust in that company and in people who clearly do not know anything about cars or how they work.

I couldn’t be happier that it now appears that Gandalf and I will still have many happy years together. He has been a great car, and knowing he’ll be well taken care of makes me beyond happy. In addition, I am currently completely out of debt and plan to stay that way for as long as I can. I now know that I need to start planning for the day when this weekend’s events become a reality. Until then, I will be forever grateful for great family & friends with not only amazing advice and support, but incredible senses of humor!

In My Dreams

He came to me last night in a dream. I awoke in tears. It has been so long since I’ve seen him, so this vision of him caught me completely off guard, even in an unconscious state. Our last visit together was nothing but loving and a bit bittersweet, but it’s a memory I will always cherish.

I’ll never understand why certain things or loved ones show up in my dreams, but this vision was so vivid. Even now, I get choked up thinking how unfair it is that I won’t ever see his face again and how real everything felt. Loss is very different for many people. We all react to it in different ways. My friends and family mean everything to me, so to lose someone I love is absolutely heartbreaking.

In my dream I was at a friend’s house talking when I looked outside across the yard. There, coming out from behind the fence, I saw him. He looked just like I remembered. I turned to my friend and shockingly exclaimed, “Is that Max?!”

Without a hesitation, I knew it was my sweet boy, and ran for him calling his name. He saw me and ran to me. I was happy beyond words to get to see his beautiful face in front of me. Upon connecting, I walked with him towards a bench, my hand never breaking our touch, so I could pet his head and love on him once more. When we got to the bench, he had changed into a human form and I was able to hold him in an embrace that I never wanted to end. It was then that I woke up.

 

My three-letter tradition

You’ve probably heard of many traditions over the years. Some are religious in nature, some have to do with family, but I doubt any involve peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Well, my friends, that is all about to change. Tomorrow marks a very significant day for me, as I will be getting the key to my next home. My actual move-in date is Friday, but tomorrow evening I will be dining on PB&J’s as I start the process of creating new memories in a new place.

I didn’t just choose this childhood delicacy randomly, but rather I specifically chose to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to continue my tradition of celebrating my independence. This all stemmed from the fantastic 80’s movie, St. Elmo’s Fire.

Many of you may be unfamiliar with this movie, but it is one I highly recommend. It features the brat pack – Judd Nelson, Ally Sheedy, Andrew McCarthy, Rob Lowe, Emilio Estevez, Demi Moore, & Mare Winningham. It was a scene with Mare Winningham, who played Wendy, which started this whole thing back in 2012. Wendy was the daughter of rich parents. Her problem was that they wanted to run her life. When she finally stood up to them, they cut her off financially. This meant she had to learn to fend for herself for the first time ever. She managed to get herself her own apartment without the aid of her family. One night Billy, played by Rob Lowe, came by to see her. As they’re talking, Wendy says,

“Yeah…ya wanna know what’s great? Last night I woke up in the middle of the night to make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich…and ya know, it was my kitchen, it was my refrigerator, it was my apartment…and it was the BEST peanut butter and jelly sandwich that I have had in my entire life.”

This scene was burned into my brain. When I finally moved into my very own place for the first time ever back in 2012, something about this quote came to the forefront of my mind. After all, I had gone from living with my parents, to college roommates, to being married, but never during that time did I live alone for a significant amount of time. That all changed once I got divorced and moved out on my own.

When that happened, I had to find a way to support myself. I had to learn that, despite the fact that I had (and still have) an INCREDIBLE family, I needed to be able to stand on my own two feet. There was a lot of fear that came with that discovery, but there was also an immense sense of accomplishment with every milestone I reached. THAT is why peanut butter and jelly sandwiches serve as a powerful symbol of strength and a reminder of what I’ve accomplished on my own. This is one tradition I’m proud to continue and will do so with each bite.

Celebrity Sightings

I recently went out to dinner with some girlfriends. As two of us we were walking towards our dining destination, we passed by the window of another restaurant. Sitting there at a table was someone I immediately recognized. It wasn’t a friend or someone famous, but I do consider these encounters “celebrity sightings.” The man I saw was someone I had chatted very briefly with after receiving a message from him years ago online. The reason he stood out to me was the nature of what he was looking for in a relationship.

Now…to each his own. I get that. I guess though, if I’m being honest, I’m just more of a traditional girl. It turned out that I got a message from him and started chatting with him before first reading his profile. BIG MISTAKE!! I quickly discovered that the guy is married, but they have an understanding, as he is a dominant and is looking for a submissive. Upon learning this, I immediately wished him luck on his search, but withdrew my application to further the conversation.

These types of sightings happen to me all the time. What’s funny is that despite the fact that I live in Austin, TX, I have only had one real celebrity sighting since I moved here back in 2000…and it took me until a whole day later and a lot of internet searches before I realized who the actor even was. The majority of the time, my encounters have included running into someone who I’ve either gone out with, chatted with, or avoided like the plague.

A few years ago, I was at one of my favorite karaoke spots having a fabulous time. I was there with a large group, mostly people I didn’t know. If you know me, you know that I rarely meet a stranger, so it definitely made for a fun night. It wasn’t until I got home that I noticed I had a message waiting for me from another potential suitor. When I opened it, I had to laugh. The message was from one of the guys I’d been hanging out with that evening. He told me that he’d been staring at me all night trying to figure out how he knew me. The minute he logged onto the dating app, it hit him. He just wanted to say hi and that it was nice meeting me in person. Well…whaddaya know?!?! I was the celebrity this time!!

I guess when you’ve spent years perusing dating profiles from various sites that this is bound to happen. Some encounters bring back funny memories, while others make me glad I dodged that bullet. There have been times that I see a guy and initially think, “Wow! He’s attractive!” Then my mental Rolodex reminds me that I actually went out on a date with him several years ago, and I remember why it didn’t go anywhere.

There are times that a celebrity sighting happens, and I can see the guy staring at me trying to figure out why I look so familiar. That happened one time while shopping in HEB. As I walked past the poor pensive person, I start giggling to myself because I immediately recognized him as the 24-year-old who made a pass at me after I’d met his girlfriend the weekend prior.

I will admit, there are some men I’d like never to see again and others I’d enjoy bumping into from time to time. I guess that is one good thing about online dating. It gives you the opportunity to meet people you wouldn’t otherwise run into during the course of your day. Maybe these are just a way of keeping my mind sharp as I get older. After all, I definitely don’t want to make the same mistakes twice.

Ummm…you’re not all that!

I’ve gone on my share of dates over the years. Sometimes you have an amazing connection, while other times you may not feel that spark, but the person you’re with is just fun to be around. With the latter, you may become friends, otherwise you both cut your losses and move on. There are instances, however, when you meet someone and begin trying to figure out how quickly the date can end. That was the case this time.

It had been a long week at work, and I was looking forward to the weekend. I had started talking with a new guy online and we decided to meet up Friday night for one of my favorite pastimes – shooting pool. I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, but I can definitely hold my own. During our conversation, he mentioned that he had his own pool cue. I was excited at the thought because it made me think that if he owns his own cue, he must play often. If he plays often, he’s probably pretty good, and I’m the type who would prefer to play with someone better than me in the hopes that I might up my game.

We both arrived at the pool hall at the same time and ended up greeting each other in the parking lot. Upon meeting him, I realized that while you can find someone’s pictures attractive, they don’t always seem the same in person. Maybe it’s how they carry themselves. Maybe it’s seeing them at a different angle. Maybe it’s their personality. Most of the time it’s the whole package that just tells you it’s not a fit. What’s weird is that I know from experience that you can have great chemistry with someone online, via text, and over the phone, but it just doesn’t translate in person. I’ve been on both sides of this coin, so I know what it feels like. It’s not something I can really explain, but when the mutual connection is there, it’s obvious. When it’s not, you know it pretty quickly. It became very apparent in this situation that the attraction was one-sided…and I was on the wrong side.

We walked into the pool hall, him with his case in hand, and we quickly found a table towards the middle of the room. We talked for a few minutes and decided to start our first game. It didn’t take long for me to realize that owning a pool cue does not automatically mean you are skilled in the ways of billiards. I’ve been playing on occasion for several years now, so I typically study the table, think about how one shot will set up the next, carefully aim, and hope for the best outcome.

My date couldn’t have been more the opposite. He awkwardly walked up to the table and, without much aim or planning, quickly made each shot. He fumbled with the cue a few times, almost dropping it. He missed the cue ball a few times and just didn’t seem to be very confident in his playing. All this came as a surprise given he had his own billiards equipment with him. Part of the way through the second game, his cue tip broke, which got him pretty flustered. He took the cue and just threw it in the garbage.

What made this encounter more awkward was the fact that after his shots, he would come up to me and put his arm around me in an affectionate manner. I really couldn’t have been more obvious with my body language that I didn’t reciprocate his advances, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. Each time he’d attempt to be close, I would conveniently find an amazing shot to take from the other side of the table. I didn’t do this in a rude manner, but I was very surprised he wasn’t reading my stiff, closed off stature. I guess I was doing my best to be perfectly clear that I didn’t feel the same. The conversation was a bit awkward as well. Maybe it was his nerves, which I get, but, again, lack of confidence in a man is something I have a hard time with on a date.

We played a few games, and then he suggested we switch to darts. I was ready to go home, and had been for a while. In all honesty, I was actually pretty tired, but I wanted to be nice, so I agreed. He seemed like a decent guy, but unfortunately that extra something just wasn’t there for me. After a few games, I told him that I was really getting tired, as it was approaching midnight, and was ready to head home. If the night wasn’t awkward at that point, it was about to take a nosedive into the land of awkwardness.

Despite the fact that we’d been chatting, sort of, all night, he said he’d like to just talk for a few minutes. Ugh! I just wanted to go home already! They have several couches all around the pool hall, so we headed towards the ones near the bar. I was hoping this would be short-lived, as I was pretty exhausted, but I was willing to give him a few more minutes of my time.

We sat down on the love seat, him to my left. Before I could say anything, he grabbed my legs and laid them across his knees. He then took my hand to hold it, but did the “interlocking finger” manner, which seriously caught me off guard. Then to top it off, he laid his head on my shoulder. He was all cozy and comfy, and I could not have had stiffer posture unless I was petrified. I felt a bit bad for the guy, as he obviously was looking for a connection with me. The problem was, it just wasn’t there…AT ALL!!

After about five minutes of this insanity, I mentioned again that I was really tired and should be heading home. In a very disappointed manner, he sat up and removed my legs from his lap. We gathered our things and headed out the door. He walked me to my car, and I managed to dodge a kiss goodnight. Again, the guy was nice, but I just wasn’t feelin’ it.

I got home a little after midnight and sent him a text to let him know I made it. I said, “Thank you for a fun night. You’re a fierce competitor.” I figured that was my way of saying thank you, but not giving the hint of another date. I crawled into bed and zonked out.

Twenty minutes later, I was startled awake when I got a text from him that said, “That’s good to know.” I briefly looked at it and put my phone back down. I was out again in about 30 seconds.

Twenty minutes after that, I was startled awake again when I got a text from him that said, “I’m free Saturday afternoon or Sunday evening if you’d like to get together again.” I honestly didn’t read the text then because I was just too tired and figured he’d fall asleep soon too.

Wrong!

TWENTY MINUTES LATER – it is now after 1:00 am – I was startled awake for the last time by him with a text that said, “But I don’t know if you want to see me.” It was then that I realized that I was unfortunately going to have to let him down easy or he was not going to stop. Through sleepy eyes, I texted him back to tell him that I really appreciated the offer, but I just didn’t feel the same connection that he obviously did. I said that didn’t mean we couldn’t hang out again, but I just wanted to be clear of my feelings. I was hoping that would be the end of it.

NOPE!

THE DUDE BLEW UP MY PHONE!!!

I got text after text from him.

“What do you mean you don’t feel the same connection?”

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s got to be something wrong!”

They kept coming. I replied back and said that there was nothing wrong. Sometimes it just doesn’t translate in person.

He insisted, “What’s wrong?! There’s got to be something wrong! I was married for eight years. I don’t understand.”

OY VEY!!

I very calmly replied back and said again that there was nothing wrong. I told him that I just didn’t feel the same attraction for him that he felt for me.

His response floored me!

He said, “No attraction?! Good luck finding better!”

I replied and asked him what he meant.

He said, “Ummm…you’re not all that! Good luck!”

I stared at my phone like Ferris Bueller would stare right into the camera.

REALLY?!?!

If I’m being honest, I had a bit of a chuckle at this one, but I was so beyond tired at that point that I put my phone down, turned it to silent, and zonked out.

I guess I can now rest assured that I don’t have to put too much pressure on myself moving forward since I’m not all that. Whew!

 

Do I Need To Be Here For This?

Someone once asked me what’s worse on a first date – no attraction or nothing to talk about. In my opinion it would be the latter. To me, there’s nothing worse than an attractive man who has nothing to say. There is one exception to that – when my date is doing all the talking and the conversation is completely one-sided.

A few years ago, I began chatting online with a very attractive man who fortunately didn’t live too far from me. It wasn’t long after that before we scheduled our first date. We met at a sports bar to have a drink and visit for a while. I liked the atmosphere of the place and had been there before. It had a good energy yet wasn’t too loud for good conversation.

I met him just inside and was very pleased, as he looked just like his pictures. We found a table inside close to the door for the outside patio. We each ordered a beer and he ordered a burger and fries, as it was closer to dinner time. We continued our conversation that had started that afternoon, and it all seemed to be going well…

Very quickly, the conversation took a turn, and it began to revolve around my date’s ex. Let’s just say he did NOT have nice things to say about her. This continued for a good 15 minutes before I tried to steer the conversation in another direction by asking about his family.  He followed my detour, but apparently the conversation cruise control clicked on and we were back to talking about his ex again.

My interest in this conversation was so over. At no time was I asked about myself, my interests, my work, how my beer was, or anything remotely off topic. He seemed very angry, and I began to wonder if I even needed to be there. After all, he could have the same conversation with himself, and I could go do something else like bang my head against the wall or play in traffic.

The painful visit finally came to an end. Any attraction I felt for him upon meeting was long gone. In fact, I found him rather ugly at this point. Personality really does make a difference. We said our goodbyes, and I breathed a sigh of relief that the date was finally over. The best part about that night was that I knew I would never have to see him again.

Ken Without A Barbie

I don’t know why I do, but I remember the first four men I met online. After that, I’ll be honest…it’s a blur, but the first four are still very vivid in my mind. Of them, the one that stands out the most was Ken aka “#3.” This is not because of an amazing connection we had or how he swept me off my feet but rather because my date with him was the worst date I’ve ever had.

Shortly after we started talking, Ken told me that his best friend and his best friend’s wife were going to be in town and asked if I’d like to join them Saturday night on a double date. The plan was to go to dinner and then dancing downtown. In an effort to be adventurous and to meet new people, I said sure!

The afternoon before the date, he texted me while he and his friends were at lunch and said, “Missing you!” I thought, “Ummmm…dude…we haven’t even met yet.” I let it go, as I was doing my best to keep an open mind. The plan was for us to meet up at his apartment and then we would ride together to dinner and then downtown. Ken didn’t live too far away, so I had no trouble making it to his apartment in plenty of time.

Now, before you say anything, I know that going to his place was not the smartest idea, but I am still here to tell this harrowing story, so let us move past that snafu.

At the beginning of the night, I had high hopes for the date given that he was two years older than I was. I figured it might be nice to go out with someone older and more mature than the previous guys I had met prior to online dating. I knocked on his door, and when he opened it and greeted me I realized he didn’t quite look like his pictures. He was quite a bit heavier and shorter than his pics made him out to be. Now, I have no height requirement when it comes to dating, but I do ask that your pictures are current and your profile is accurate. It turned out that Ken was shorter than me which caught me off guard. Again…this fact was not what was listed on his profile. After all, I’m only 5’4 ½” and was wearing a slight heel. What made it even more awkward was the fact that his buddy was at least 6’4”. Talk about the odd couple.

The other thing that set off a red flag was the fact that his best friend and his wife who were joining us were in their early 20’s. They were a very sweet couple, but I thought it was odd that someone who was 40 was best friends with someone who was barely legal to drink. Two things popped into my head upon meeting the other couple – 1. They were very mature for their age, or 2. My date wasn’t. Take a guess which is the right answer.

We all headed to a Japanese restaurant for some sushi before heading downtown. I enjoy sushi, so again, I was giving him the benefit of the doubt that I’d be proven wrong with my hypothesis. We ordered a couple rolls and Ken decided to partake of some sake. I felt trapped, as I was at the mercy of this man who was our driver for the night, and I quickly realized that he was drinking a little much that soon. I’m not much of a drinker, so going out with someone who feels they need to drown their feelings is not my idea of a good time.

The food really was good but we ordered a bit much, so a to-go box was filled with the leftovers. Ken paid the check and we all headed back to his truck for phase two of our evening. Now I need to give you an idea of the area where this restaurant was located, as the reason for this will quickly be revealed. We were in a very highly developed shopping area. There were stores all around us like a Bed Bath & Beyond, Barnes & Noble, Old Navy, etc. You know, your typical suburbia. The reason I say this is because after I had climbed into the truck (thank goodness!!) and despite this being a paved, somewhat busy area, my “date” decided it would be appropriate to pee next to his truck. Yes ladies…this was my date!

We all headed downtown and parked in a lot that was a bit out of the way. Fortunately, being in a truck made parking easy since it was almost like off-roading. We proceeded to walk to our first bar and in the process, Ken’s belt broke. He had a huge belt buckle (it is Texas after all) and it apparently pissed him off. He pulled off his belt removed the buckle and threw both of them into the shrubs. His buddy, who had given him the buckle dug through the greenery to retrieve it as he figured his buddy would want it the next day when he was sober.

We made our way into the first bar and ordered drinks. We didn’t stay long and soon made our way to a country bar complete with a raised dance floor and mechanical bull. For whatever reason, Ken felt it would be appropriate to try to shove ice down my shirt. Yeah…he’s a classy guy! He also made a rude comment to a woman walking by. Upon hearing his remark, the woman stopped and turned to give him a very deserving look to which he replied, “What are you looking at, bitch?” I. Was. MORTIFIED!!

Ken’s buddy was nice enough to ask me to dance, but being that he was a foot taller than me, it proved to be a bit challenging. We took a few turns around the dance floor, as I tried to avoid my date as much as possible. It was finally time to call it a night, and I was breathing a sigh of relief. Ken was in no shape to drive, but thankfully his buddy was sober. The three of us walked back to the truck while Ken staggered as best he could. I got into the truck and buckled up and then it happened again. Yep…that’s right…Ken peed next to his truck yet again. He finally climbed into the cab, unfortunately next to me, and his buddy and his wife got in the front seat. I was glad to be in good hands as far as driving goes, but Ken was trying to be affectionate in the back seat. I was having NONE of that! He figured since he had a snack sitting there that he’d finish the rest of the leftovers from dinner. The thought of him eating after not washing his hands made me a bit nauseated.

We got back to his place finally. I thanked his buddy for driving and said it was nice meeting him and his wife. I waved goodbye to Ken from afar and quickly got into my car before I became the third location of him relieving himself. I had never been so happy to be home in my entire life!

The next day I was going about my day and got a text from Mr. Pee-body. He said, “Hi there. How are you feeling today?” It was as if he thought I might have had too much to drink or something the night before when in fact I was STONE SOBER when I left his company. In fact, after the first bar I had nothing to drink but water in case I needed to drive us back. I didn’t dignify it with a remark and quickly deleted his texts. I could not believe I actually thought that with age comes maturity. The sad part of all this is that I discovered a year later that he got married. I can’t imagine what kind of woman would marry someone like him, but I guess I figured if even HE could find someone then there has to be hope for me.

Swiping Catfish

Let me paint you a picture. You swipe through a plethora of pictures on an online dating site. Every so often, you come across one that you find attractive. You view all his pictures, read his profile, and then, and only then, do you swipe right. This is to indicate that you are interested in this person. You continue on most of the time, going through pictures of a myriad of men. Every so often, when you finally swipe right, you are instantly notified that it’s a mutual match. Sometimes you’ll find out later that’s the case. Either way, this is typically when the conversation between two people begins.

You go through the typical questions – What do you do for a living? How long have you lived in the area? Where in the area are you located? (Most of the time it is RARE to meet someone who lives anywhere close to you.) How is the site treating you? What do you do for fun? The list goes on and on. It usually feels like you’re at a job interview, but, this time, the job you’re applying for is girlfriend.

If things go well, you eventually exchange numbers because it’s a pain in the ass to keep logging into an app to communicate with someone. Texting is soon initiated, however there are times you go “old school” and end up actually talking on the phone. I know…crazy! In my opinion, you definitely don’t want to date someone whose voice annoys the hell outta you, so a phone call is warranted.

As things develop, you both decide you’re comfortable enough to meet. In my case, you make sure you look and smell nice. You arrive on time and have one thought running through your head as you are about to meet this person – “Please, for the love of G-d, let him look like his pics!!” You’d think this wouldn’t be an issue. After all, you’ve viewed his profile, talked to him, and now will actually meet in person to confirm everything is as it should be. Here is where the EPIC FAIL occurs. This might shock you, but PEOPLE ARE DISHONEST ABOUT WHO THEY ARE AND WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE IN THEIR ONLINE DATING PROFILES!!!

When your date doesn’t look like their pictures, this is referred to as “catfishing.” It’s that old bait and switch trick. They lure you in with pictures that depict them at their prime. In some cases this can be 20+ years ago. The problem is, you have no way to know until you arrive. What fascinates me is that when you match up with someone and things go well, you will eventually MEET THEM IN PERSON. Do these idiotic people (both men and women) not think you’ll notice?! Do these idiotic people not think you’ll mind being lied to & deceived before you’ve even met?

I have always been honest about who I am and what I look like in my profile pictures. I’ve been told many times that I either look just like my pictures or better than them in person. Well DUH! The reason is because my pictures are current. They were not taken by the Bigfoot photographer. I do not have five people in my pictures causing them to guess which one is me. I’m not wearing sunglasses to hide my weird-looking eyes. (That’s happened too many times to count!!) I’m not wearing hats in all my pictures to hide my hair, or lack thereof. (..and to clarify, I find bald men very attractive, but don’t get me started on the fantastic mullets I’ve seen.) The list of picture “don’ts” could go on and on. The point is, be the person you represent yourself to be online and this process would be a whole lot easier.

There are many more dating shenanigans that I’ll be posting soon, but I wanted to give you some insight into the world of single life today. It is NOT an easy thing. It gets exhausting being rejected over and over. It’s sad how many times you are completely disrespected on a regular basis. I don’t date a lot. When I am told that I’m trying too hard, I want to slap someone. One date in two months is not trying hard. I don’t date just to get a meal. I am one of the few actually looking for something worthwhile. To be told that the right one will come along when I least expect it may seem like good advice, but it trivializes the effort I put in each time I meet someone. Again, I’m honest about who I am and what I look like. I’m an open book and am happy to discuss any topic as long as the person is talking with me and not at me. What you must realize is that most people aren’t like that. In addition, I am never approached in public by any men, which means that the only way, most of the time, to even meet a guy is online. Do I like it? HELL NO! In today’s world, however, there is no online dating…there is just dating. The online portion of it is just the reality that allows two people who would not have otherwise crossed paths to get to know one another.

My advice is be kind to the single population. It takes a great deal of strength to put yourself out there time and time again. I, for one, am taking a break for a bit. If someone comes into my life and dazzles me, then I’d be open to it, but I’d rather be single and happy than dating and frustrated.

 

Wisdom Beyond Their Years

As adults, we tend to rely on our elders for advice and knowledge. We know that with age comes wisdom, as people are the sum of their experiences. This isn’t always the case, but I’ve found that it’s true more often than not. It never ceases to amaze me when I encounter someone with wisdom far beyond their years, especially when that person is a young child or teenager. I was lucky enough to be surrounded by not one, but many young people this last weekend, and it reminded me why it’s important to let those voices be heard.

For those of you not familiar with a Bar Mitzvah, this is a Jewish rite of passage as one goes from being a boy to being considered an adult in the Jewish community. For a girl, it is known as a Bat Mitzvah, but it is the same transition as it is for males. Typically, they are 13 years old when this happens. For those going through this process, it can include a year’s worth of studying and preparation as many prayers are learned as well as blessings and passages in Hebrew.

The Bar or Bat Mitzvah leads the congregation during the service and gets to read from the Torah, the first five books of the Bible. The portion that they read and study is based on that week’s lesson, as the entire Torah is read during the Jewish year. There is a different lesson to be learned with each portion, so depending on when it will occur during the year will determine what is studied. It is a huge undertaking and even bigger celebration. I celebrated mine…way back when. To this day, I can still remember the passages I had chanted and prayers I had sung.

The one I attended last weekend was a bit different, as it was two young men going through it together. In this case, it is referred to a B’nai Mitzvah. They both took turns leading the service and doing their readings. Each was extremely poised and confident as they went along. I watched each of them and thought how at ease they both seemed as if they spoke and sang in front of large crowds regularly.

Despite the fact that they each studied the same Torah portion, their interpretation of how it related to their lives was as unique as they were. I listened as they spoke from their hearts. Their thoughts were quite profound, and I had to remind myself several times that these young men were only 13 years old. You could tell they’d spent time putting their thoughts into words. It made me realize that wisdom comes from all ages, and we should always open our ears and minds when speaking with others, both young and old.

A tradition following their speeches is for each Bar/Bat Mitzvah to have a private conversation with the rabbi (or rabbis in this case) followed by a blessing from him or her. As I watched the conversation unfold, I listened to the beautiful song being sung by several congregants. I could only see the interaction between the young men and their religious leaders, however I felt touched as I thought back to my own conversation with my rabbi, whom I still hold very dear. I could see the attentiveness with which each Bar Mitzvah showed throughout the discussion, and it was that – a discussion. Each young man took turns responding in unison and individually as they were addressed. I could tell they had something to say, and I knew they were being heard by each other as well as their elders. I sat thinking how I hope they remember this moment just as I have all these years later.

That evening, both families celebrated together with an incredibly fun party complete with a fantastic DJ who had us all dancing and participating in some hilarious games, a casino night complete with roulette, blackjack, and craps tables, a photo booth, cupcake & candy bar, and amazing food and drinks. This was the time for everyone to cut loose and celebrate all the hard work that finally paid off for these young men. This was the first time in a very long time that I had been surrounded by this many young adults and kids. It was so much fun to watch their interaction with family, friends, and even complete strangers. It was a very joy-filled night and one I’m sure we’ll remember for a very long time.

In this day and age, we all forget sometimes that our differences are a good thing. We even overlook a child’s thoughts and ideas simply because of their youth. Many of the most amazing, thought-provoking ideas have come to me from people in their early stages of life. Some have overcome things I hope never to have to experience, while others see things more clearly simply because the burdens of life have yet to influence their outlook on it. I encourage you to stop and take some time to listen, truly listen, to what others have to say. We can all lose our sense of wonder, but a reminder is always out there if we are open to receive it.

Showering Thoughts

A while back I wrote a blog referring to my discovery about brushing my teeth called Short, Sweet, Pointless. Today, thanks to an article I read, I now have a new pondering thought that I’d like to pose to you. While showering, into which category do you fall?

1. Face the showerhead
2. Face away from the showerhead
3. Both face it and face away from it evenly throughout the showering process

Now, when choosing a category, I want you to pick the answer that pertains the majority of your shower. As with most situations, people tend to think that everyone does the same thing. After all, only weird people would do something different, right?! As for me, I face away from the showerhead. It has never made sense to me that one would face it. Doing so makes it hard to breathe unless you’ve somehow eaten some Gillyweed and have grown gills. (Where are my Harry Potter fans?!)

I have further wondered if the choice above is dependent upon the below categories:

• Gender
• Length of hair
• Height in comparison to location of showerhead
• Water pressure

I don’t really know how I made the decision of which direction to face. I guess it’s like choosing a side of the bed. Why I sleep on that side is a mystery. It’s not as if it is more comfortable than where I normally sleep, yet it feels odd to have the edge of the bed on the other side. I guess what this boils down to is that in the shower I don’t want to drown while in my bed…well…I’m just weird.