The 3 Dog Night song is such a comforting little ditty - screaming out "One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do!!" and by some misfortune has been ringing in my head for the past several days. It started Friday night when my dinner plans with a friend fell through and I didn't feel like cooking for myself. I seriously contemplated going to Hoss's and just getting a decent, relatively reasonable meal and going home. But then I thought of all the times I enter a restaurant and the host/hostess looks at me and says, "JUST one?" Even when I initate and say "one" - they often respond with "JUST one?" Um yeah - unless you are going to start counting my various moods and personalities. Then we need a whole freakin banquet room! I really don't mind eating out alone...usually, but on Friday I was in the mood for some company. So better to go home than be "just one." So I breezed through the drive through of the KFC for some KGC and headed home with the dang song in my head.
Actually, one is not the loneliest number that I'll ever do. What IS the loneliest number is being 1 of 10, or 25 or 100 but not being noticed, acknowledged, appreciated. But I've moaned and complained about that before so I won't do it again. At least not in this post.
Someone commented to me recently "I am my own best friend!" He went on to discuss how he never has to guess what he is thinking, doesn't hold a grudge against himself, doesn't get into arguments with himself (wish I could say that of me), and doesn't have to worry if he's going to laugh at his jokes. Pretty good approach, I think.
So tonight I decided once again that maybe I would head to Hoss's since I went to Jazzercise and I felt like a good healthy non-carb meal as a reward for all that sweating. (Ironically as I type I am eating cheese and some very very deliciously starchy crackers that make my inner carb monster VERY happy). Fortunately the hostess did not say "JUST one?" It was a good start. I could now get very tangential and become a food critic because there was much I could comment on....but I won't. And the service was good, so I'll save my customer service (pro and con) rant for another day as well.
Being "one" in a busy restaurant allows one to become more of a people watcher, since there is nobody sitting across the table talking, eating and actually keeping me company. I get to see the gambit of the parental spectrum - from the people who pretty much ignore their kids and let them run amok, to the ones who think their child is the cutest, smartest, most endearing kid in the place and want everyone else to know it. No thanks...on both counts. I also get to observe the older couples who seem to still be really into each other.....and those who can't seem to stand each other. I get a kick out of trying to figure out what people might be on a date. (Note - if anyone were to take me on a date to Hoss's, there would be no subsequent dates. This is not a date-worthy place in this girl's book - just sayin'.)
Tonight I was really blessed because though I did not have an active conversation taking place at my table, but I could hear much of a conversation distinctly from some of my fellow diners. Two rows over. I couldn't hear the people at the table right next to me.....or the one in front of me, which incidentally had 2 children at it, but oh baby, I could hear the guy halfway across the room. Ok - maybe not the WHOLE room, but certainly across my section. I had to chuckle because the sound of it was much like what I might hear in the dialogue of The Big Bang Theory. And the girl had the most abyssmal mastication manners I think I've ever seen. (And boy have I seen some - particularly recently at Wegman's - I could probably do a whole blog post on people's horrible table manners - like anyone would care to read it) I am reminded of Michael Caine's line in Miss Congeniality, when he told Sandra Bullock he couldn't understand her with that "half masticated cow rolling around in your wide open trap." Wow. That's all I can say. Yes, table manners and etiquette are as big a pet peeve with me as is poor grammar. And by the way, since I've made a BBT reference, let me say that these two beings would fit well within the cast in appearance as well. Don't get me wrong, I love Sheldon and friends, I'm just trying to give context. So part of the conversation was about some books. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess The Hunger Games. Because isn't that what everyone is talking about? So the guys say something to the effect of, "I read the first one. And it didn't grip me like it did everyone else, so I wasn't ravenous for the second one." I would love to be able to tell you what her answer was...... but she was chewing. Later in the conversation he posited that the story was quite truncated. But I think he really captured her heart and mind when he described how thin her hair is. You know it's true, Ladies - that's what we wanna hear! Ignore those Prell commercials from days of yore.....waiting forever for the pearl to drop.....or anything nowadays that entices us to more volume, more shine......we want the guy in our life to desribe for us what we don't want to accept - that we have dull, lifeless, boring hair!
Thankfully, their departure took place about midway through my meal. And as they got up to leave, I realized why this guy looked familiar to me.......I know him! Well, not really. I know who he is, because I have seen him on stage. He wouldn't know me from a hole in the ground. Besides, he would probably think I was quite truncated.
So one is not really the loneliest number that you'll ever do.....
one is the ________________ what? I guess you could fill in the blanks any number of ways.....
One is the observantest number?
One is the annoyedest number?
One is the entertainedest number?
Or Emily Postest?
Or interestingest?
Amusedest?
Probably different for different people in different situations. Tonight for me, One was the incredulousest number.
At least it wasn't boring.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Held Together By a Paperclip
Did you ever feel like some aspect of your life was being held together by something as small, untrustworthy, and awkward as a paperclip? Like, your temper? Your health? Your family? Your finances? Your career? Your mental health? How about your wardrobe?
Yeah - that last one was supposed to be in there. And of course, there's a story.
Last week I was running behind (now there's some news!) trying to get my tookus into town and see some clients. You'd think that since I really don't have anything else going on in my life in terms of activities, I'd be able to allot myself ample time to drive to Pixley from this lovely hamlet of Hooterville (if you don't understand that reference, you are way too young), dodge students randomly crossing the street in front of me even when they clearly have the big red hand on their "walk" lights, get the car parked and get down to the office. Before the clients do, that is. But as is typical I was, as I said, running behind. Probably due to the competitor in me not being able to leave behind a game of Words With Friends before I made a stellar move. But I digress. So I am under the gun, and trying to find some clothes that fit. (And that's another story.) So I grabbed a camisole top I received for Christmas but have never tried on, threw on my oh so stylish (read approximately 8 years old) blouse over top of it and a pair of pants. .....only to find that the cami is rather large and because of it, rather more revealing than anything my clients would have the stomach for. So I set about scavenging for safety pins to shorten the "straps" thereby covering regions needing cover. I found one safety pin quite easily - it was on top of the refrigerator. OF COURSE IT WAS! Because that's where safety pins belong, isn't it? Don't even ask. I thought the other one was on the coffee table - the second most logical place for a safety pin, as you know. Nope - not there. As the big hand on the clock was creeping ever more steadily to the point of ridiculously late, I grabbed the only thing I could find which was.....you guessed it - a paper clip! Clipped that baby right up, threw the blouse back on and hightailed it to town. I don't THINK I ran over any students on my way up College Avenue. I wish I could put my "Get out of my way - I'm in a huge hurry" face onto the hood of my car. Maybe it would help. Probably not. So I squeal into the parking garage and make my way to the office building, in the door, up to the office, turn on the lights, unlock the closet so that my necessary supplies are at hand, and go back down to the door to let the clients in. And all the while I'm thinking, my clothes are held together with a paper clip. I wonder if they can tell? The session begins and I'm doing my job but a little voice inside my head is saying "look at you all calm and smiley - you're being held together by a paperclip!!! They think you have the answers....you look all professional (well not really - not in THAT outfit) and wise - and YOU'RE BEING HELD TOGETHER BY A PAPERCLIP!!" It's an annoying little voice, actually.
But that's not the end of it. I grabbed that same shirt the next night to change into because I had a dinner date after a meeting. You'd think that I would have taken time that day to 1. stitch the shirt into an acceptable position. 2. throw it in the dryer to shrink it 3. find the other stupid safety pin. 4. gotten out the duct tape. But NOOOOOO. I went out to dinner still being held together by a paper clip!
In the aftermath of those little events I got to thinking that life sometimes feels like that's all that's holding us together, doesn't it?
I have a friend who is battling breast cancer. I bet she feels like that sometimes. Despite the countless prayers and encouragement she is receiving from family and friends and her very strong faith, I can't help but wonder if she feels like she is relying on a teensy little piece of metal to get her through.
There are people whose plates are so full and the stress and the rage are boiling very close to the surface. Angry words are spoken, feelings are hurt, damage is done. Enough temper there to melt something so insignificant as a paper clip.
Someone comes close to losing their job over misconstrued interpretations and every attempt to address the problem becomes a further descent into a muddy pit. The devastation and discouragement are barely held at bay and fear is creeping in and grabbing hold.
You can probably think of lots of things families encounter. Marriages where there is no love left, if it ever was there in the first place. Kids with behavior problems. Caring for elderly or ill parents. A loved one struggling with mental illness. Coming home with the pink slip. Even a surprise invoice from the mechanic. Any number of things can make us feel like we are just one paper clip away from disintegrating into a million pieces.
And we press on. Trying to look cool, calm and collected in our spiffy blouses and snazzy suits with carefully coiffed heads and manicures - or whatever speaks "I've got this - I'm good" to each one of us......and trying to smile and be positive, because we are told that nobody likes to be around negative people......and we are hoping that nobody else can see our paper clip.
I really like the thoughts of a couple therapists I know.
One said "We enter this life screaming from the womb and we enter the grave still screaming. And somewhere in between we try to find a way to do some good, to make a difference." (to avoid any hint of plagiarism, that is a paraphrase of what he said and I don't even know if it was his original thought, so be gentle with me).
The other one said, (again, probably a paraphrase from someone else) "This life is like a big pasture. And we are here to help each other stay out of the cow plops."
I say, it's ok that you're having a paper clip day. But if you need me to, I'll find your other safety pin. And set your clock 15 minutes ahead for you. Because most likely, I need someone to do the same for me.
Yeah - that last one was supposed to be in there. And of course, there's a story.
Last week I was running behind (now there's some news!) trying to get my tookus into town and see some clients. You'd think that since I really don't have anything else going on in my life in terms of activities, I'd be able to allot myself ample time to drive to Pixley from this lovely hamlet of Hooterville (if you don't understand that reference, you are way too young), dodge students randomly crossing the street in front of me even when they clearly have the big red hand on their "walk" lights, get the car parked and get down to the office. Before the clients do, that is. But as is typical I was, as I said, running behind. Probably due to the competitor in me not being able to leave behind a game of Words With Friends before I made a stellar move. But I digress. So I am under the gun, and trying to find some clothes that fit. (And that's another story.) So I grabbed a camisole top I received for Christmas but have never tried on, threw on my oh so stylish (read approximately 8 years old) blouse over top of it and a pair of pants. .....only to find that the cami is rather large and because of it, rather more revealing than anything my clients would have the stomach for. So I set about scavenging for safety pins to shorten the "straps" thereby covering regions needing cover. I found one safety pin quite easily - it was on top of the refrigerator. OF COURSE IT WAS! Because that's where safety pins belong, isn't it? Don't even ask. I thought the other one was on the coffee table - the second most logical place for a safety pin, as you know. Nope - not there. As the big hand on the clock was creeping ever more steadily to the point of ridiculously late, I grabbed the only thing I could find which was.....you guessed it - a paper clip! Clipped that baby right up, threw the blouse back on and hightailed it to town. I don't THINK I ran over any students on my way up College Avenue. I wish I could put my "Get out of my way - I'm in a huge hurry" face onto the hood of my car. Maybe it would help. Probably not. So I squeal into the parking garage and make my way to the office building, in the door, up to the office, turn on the lights, unlock the closet so that my necessary supplies are at hand, and go back down to the door to let the clients in. And all the while I'm thinking, my clothes are held together with a paper clip. I wonder if they can tell? The session begins and I'm doing my job but a little voice inside my head is saying "look at you all calm and smiley - you're being held together by a paperclip!!! They think you have the answers....you look all professional (well not really - not in THAT outfit) and wise - and YOU'RE BEING HELD TOGETHER BY A PAPERCLIP!!" It's an annoying little voice, actually.
But that's not the end of it. I grabbed that same shirt the next night to change into because I had a dinner date after a meeting. You'd think that I would have taken time that day to 1. stitch the shirt into an acceptable position. 2. throw it in the dryer to shrink it 3. find the other stupid safety pin. 4. gotten out the duct tape. But NOOOOOO. I went out to dinner still being held together by a paper clip!
In the aftermath of those little events I got to thinking that life sometimes feels like that's all that's holding us together, doesn't it?
I have a friend who is battling breast cancer. I bet she feels like that sometimes. Despite the countless prayers and encouragement she is receiving from family and friends and her very strong faith, I can't help but wonder if she feels like she is relying on a teensy little piece of metal to get her through.
There are people whose plates are so full and the stress and the rage are boiling very close to the surface. Angry words are spoken, feelings are hurt, damage is done. Enough temper there to melt something so insignificant as a paper clip.
Someone comes close to losing their job over misconstrued interpretations and every attempt to address the problem becomes a further descent into a muddy pit. The devastation and discouragement are barely held at bay and fear is creeping in and grabbing hold.
You can probably think of lots of things families encounter. Marriages where there is no love left, if it ever was there in the first place. Kids with behavior problems. Caring for elderly or ill parents. A loved one struggling with mental illness. Coming home with the pink slip. Even a surprise invoice from the mechanic. Any number of things can make us feel like we are just one paper clip away from disintegrating into a million pieces.
And we press on. Trying to look cool, calm and collected in our spiffy blouses and snazzy suits with carefully coiffed heads and manicures - or whatever speaks "I've got this - I'm good" to each one of us......and trying to smile and be positive, because we are told that nobody likes to be around negative people......and we are hoping that nobody else can see our paper clip.
I really like the thoughts of a couple therapists I know.
One said "We enter this life screaming from the womb and we enter the grave still screaming. And somewhere in between we try to find a way to do some good, to make a difference." (to avoid any hint of plagiarism, that is a paraphrase of what he said and I don't even know if it was his original thought, so be gentle with me).
The other one said, (again, probably a paraphrase from someone else) "This life is like a big pasture. And we are here to help each other stay out of the cow plops."
I say, it's ok that you're having a paper clip day. But if you need me to, I'll find your other safety pin. And set your clock 15 minutes ahead for you. Because most likely, I need someone to do the same for me.
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