My friend Gail and I were whispering about the weekend as we stood backstage Friday night waiting to go on for our five minutes of Beethoven. A week or so ago she asked if I wanted to go with her to see a one-man show about the life and music of George Gershwin. I said I'd better not spend the money.
As we were talking about my Saturday afternoon flight to L.A. for dinner (what a jet-setter!), she asked if I had packed. I said no, that I still wasn't sure what clothes I was going to take.
I mentioned that I had ordered a pair of jeans from Nordstrom but they hadn't come in yet. She, who was with me when I tried on my first pair of Not Your Daughter's Jeans at South Coast Plaza, said "you already have three pair of jeans." I retorted, "but these are black." She protested, "you have a pair of black jeans." "But," I replied, "those are cropped and these are long."
Her final thrust? "No wonder you can't afford concert tickets if you keep buying $200 jeans." "But they're only $100," I replied. Our whispered laughter died down as we parted and I went back to my place in line.
I knew she was teasing, and I know Gail cares for me, but it bothered me just a little.
Each of us has our own obligations, and we try to manage them to the best of our abilities. I pick and choose my expenditures. I keep TiVo, but I dropped HBO. I go out to eat too frequently but I'm frugal and healthful in my grocery purchases. I'm dropping my SpaOne membership so I can start really start saving for December, when my tenants will have moved out.
The bottom line? It's my business. It's personal.
What topics should be fair game for teasers? I maintain personal topics such as money, religion and politics may be off-limits. And areas over which one has no control, such as physical characteristics or personal situations, should have limits on teasing. And when the teasing borders on the barbed, the cruel, lines should be drawn.
I guess my primary focus on—and bias against—teasing comes from my brothers who (in my opinion) teased me with a total lack of love and affection.
Maybe I need to relearn how teasing is done with affection.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Attempting New Behaviors
I made meager attempts to practice uncruel teasing today. I had e-mailed the Biker yesterday that I was running out to get some highlights in my hair. When I got back home, there was an e-mail from him telling me not to make any changes. Again this morning I got an e-mail from him saying he hoped I hadn't done anything to my hair, and my response was that I had dyed it bright red.
Then we were e-mailing about what I was going to bring to L.A. He expressed concern that I was going to dreass really well and find some new guy on the plane. I told him I was going to wear the outfit that Hooter's waitress was wearing on Southwest when she was removed from the plane for being dressed inappropriately -- the white miniskirt, white tank top with lots of cleavage and tight sweater.
Do I get any points for trying, however lame the result?
Then we were e-mailing about what I was going to bring to L.A. He expressed concern that I was going to dreass really well and find some new guy on the plane. I told him I was going to wear the outfit that Hooter's waitress was wearing on Southwest when she was removed from the plane for being dressed inappropriately -- the white miniskirt, white tank top with lots of cleavage and tight sweater.
Do I get any points for trying, however lame the result?
Thursday, September 27, 2007
A Little Goes a Long Way
My entire shower time this morning was consumed, of course, with thoughts of teasing. I was remembering the man in Maryland who has offered to pop the question and buy me an enormous diamond, and would do so in a heartbeat, but will never get the chance because he has this overwhelming need to tease incessantly.
A year ago I posted about this man and his llama comments and what I really looked like at the time.
When I see this same issue popping up repeatedly over the course of time, I have to believe that it's a very important issue to me, and maybe not one that can be overcome.
When I was talking to Richard at Rio about it the other night, he said, "Just give it back to him. If he's wearing shorts, ask him what happened to the rest of the stork. Guys are sensitive about their legs." I told him that wasn't my style. Why would I find something someone is sensitive about and poke fun at that? I just don't get it. I don't get that as fun.
Would I rather be in a relationship that's filled with teasing or be alone? I'd rather be alone, thank you very much.
It's just cruel. Teasing = cruelty.
A year ago I posted about this man and his llama comments and what I really looked like at the time.
When I see this same issue popping up repeatedly over the course of time, I have to believe that it's a very important issue to me, and maybe not one that can be overcome.
When I was talking to Richard at Rio about it the other night, he said, "Just give it back to him. If he's wearing shorts, ask him what happened to the rest of the stork. Guys are sensitive about their legs." I told him that wasn't my style. Why would I find something someone is sensitive about and poke fun at that? I just don't get it. I don't get that as fun.
Would I rather be in a relationship that's filled with teasing or be alone? I'd rather be alone, thank you very much.
It's just cruel. Teasing = cruelty.
Teasing: Fun or Cruel?
Are there varied types of teasing? Am I the only person on the planet who doesn't like to be teased? Does the nature of the teasing depend upon the esteem in which the teaser holds the teasee?
I told the Biker that I have a hard time with his teasing. His response: I was raised in a family that teased. It was a way showing they cared about you. It wasn't cruel, just fun.
To me, teasing is cruel. Do I occasionally say something of a teasing nature to a friend. Yes, I guess I do. But it's not a constant thing, and maybe I'm sensing that with the Biker it's a constant thing.
My sense of the teasing I received as an adolescent and a teenager is that it was cruel. A little cruel teasing goes a very long way and is emotionally abusive, in my book. It's bullying. Isn't it?
I told my boys at Rio the other night that my trip to Long Beach this weekend will either be the first date of the rest of my life or the very last date of my entire life.
I told the Biker that I have a hard time with his teasing. His response: I was raised in a family that teased. It was a way showing they cared about you. It wasn't cruel, just fun.
To me, teasing is cruel. Do I occasionally say something of a teasing nature to a friend. Yes, I guess I do. But it's not a constant thing, and maybe I'm sensing that with the Biker it's a constant thing.
My sense of the teasing I received as an adolescent and a teenager is that it was cruel. A little cruel teasing goes a very long way and is emotionally abusive, in my book. It's bullying. Isn't it?
I told my boys at Rio the other night that my trip to Long Beach this weekend will either be the first date of the rest of my life or the very last date of my entire life.
Serendipity
Last night I was sitting at the bar at Rio Café all by myself for a while. I had dropped in after rehearsal and didn't have my standard crossword puzzle with me. So to pass the time while Eduardo was fixing my appetizer of bacon-wrapped dates, I started going through my wallet.
I was actually looking for the phone number of a coworker. She had given me her personal info just before we all moved from building 9022 to building 9032. She is a fellow beader and we wanted to keep in touch. While looking for her number, I explored every nook and cranny of my wallet. As I was examining each card, I discovered a card for Acura Roadside Assistance. I bought my Acura TL in 2004 and had completely forgotten that this feature was part of the purchase.
I also have roadside assistance as part of my Verizon cell phone package, but don't have any idea how to access it and had been thinking recently that I needed to research that and make a note of it. So I was thrilled to see this Acura card.
Guess what? I walked out of rehearsal tonight to my car, parked on Church Street in front of the Tucson Convention Center. And it wouldn't start. Dead battery. I whipped that card out of my wallet and quickly dialed Acura Roadside Assistance. A nice young man was at my side in 15 minutes and fixed all my problems.
The whole time I was waiting for him, I was thinking how grateful I was that somebody or something, God or the Universe or my karma or whatever - something was looking out for me. For me to have discovered that card last night after it's been sitting in my wallet for over three years, and then to have needed it tonight.
Believe what you will. I'll believe what I will.
And to put the icing on that proverbial cake, when I started the car and turned on the radio, the Fauré Requiem was playing. You believe what you will. I believe John was telling me he was watching out for me.
- - -
Oh, I forgot to tell you the funny/annoying part of the story. I had just come out of dress rehearsal with the Tucson Symphony Orchestra Chorus. We're performing the Beethoven Choral Fantasy on Thursday and Friday nights. If you're not familiar with the Choral Fantasy, it's basically the same tune Beethoven used for the chorus in the Ninth Symphony. It goes around and around your brain, pedantically driving you crazy. I picked up my iPod so I could listen to something else and get this Beethoven drivel out of my brain while I was waiting. And my iPod battery had run out of juice right alongside my car!
I was actually looking for the phone number of a coworker. She had given me her personal info just before we all moved from building 9022 to building 9032. She is a fellow beader and we wanted to keep in touch. While looking for her number, I explored every nook and cranny of my wallet. As I was examining each card, I discovered a card for Acura Roadside Assistance. I bought my Acura TL in 2004 and had completely forgotten that this feature was part of the purchase.
I also have roadside assistance as part of my Verizon cell phone package, but don't have any idea how to access it and had been thinking recently that I needed to research that and make a note of it. So I was thrilled to see this Acura card.
Guess what? I walked out of rehearsal tonight to my car, parked on Church Street in front of the Tucson Convention Center. And it wouldn't start. Dead battery. I whipped that card out of my wallet and quickly dialed Acura Roadside Assistance. A nice young man was at my side in 15 minutes and fixed all my problems.
The whole time I was waiting for him, I was thinking how grateful I was that somebody or something, God or the Universe or my karma or whatever - something was looking out for me. For me to have discovered that card last night after it's been sitting in my wallet for over three years, and then to have needed it tonight.
Believe what you will. I'll believe what I will.
And to put the icing on that proverbial cake, when I started the car and turned on the radio, the Fauré Requiem was playing. You believe what you will. I believe John was telling me he was watching out for me.
- - -
Oh, I forgot to tell you the funny/annoying part of the story. I had just come out of dress rehearsal with the Tucson Symphony Orchestra Chorus. We're performing the Beethoven Choral Fantasy on Thursday and Friday nights. If you're not familiar with the Choral Fantasy, it's basically the same tune Beethoven used for the chorus in the Ninth Symphony. It goes around and around your brain, pedantically driving you crazy. I picked up my iPod so I could listen to something else and get this Beethoven drivel out of my brain while I was waiting. And my iPod battery had run out of juice right alongside my car!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
On Taking Things Too Seriously
I do. Yes, I do. I know I do. But that doesn't make the trait disappear.
And I do know how to laugh. And I know I don't do it frequently enough.
(Good friends are those with whom you automatically laugh about the nothings of life. I stopped at Rio Café after rehearsal last night and giggled with Eduardo until Richard said, "You two are just alike. Two peas in a pod." And that made me laugh even more.)
So, because I take everything so seriously, I loved today's poem from the Writer's Almanac. I hope it makes you smile on this Wednesday morning.
(And I have to preface your reading of this poem by admitting that one of my greatest pet peeves is when people tell me to breathe. By God, if I'm having a crisis, you can respect my crisis and emit soothing sounds or just shut up. Don't, for crying out loud, superciliously tell me to "breathe.")
Poem: "To the Man in a Loden Coat" by Deborah Garrison, from The Second Child. © Random House, 2007.
To the Man in a Loden Coat
Hey, mister
man in a loden coat
standing in front of me
on the escalator and blocking my
way—
I know
I'm self absorbed,
particularly at this hour,
5:22 to be precise and I need
to make the 5:25 home—
don't you know that in this city,
in this life, we
walk on the left,
stand on the right?
Don't tell me to chill out,
don't tell me to "breathe,"
I hate breathing
I mean unless it is happening
without my knowing it,
which is, thank God, most of the time,
and don't tell me life is long
because it actually isn't
it's all I can do not to
give you a sweet shove
on your rich loden back,
same as all the bottled-up
left-lane travelers
behind me want to do
to my own navy-clad shoulder,
a nice blue to your green,
like water for the earth,
sky for the forest,
green and blue a tea for two,
etc., among the vistas
that call me home now,
at 5:23, about to miss the bus,
so would you please
MOVE OVER?
And I do know how to laugh. And I know I don't do it frequently enough.
(Good friends are those with whom you automatically laugh about the nothings of life. I stopped at Rio Café after rehearsal last night and giggled with Eduardo until Richard said, "You two are just alike. Two peas in a pod." And that made me laugh even more.)
So, because I take everything so seriously, I loved today's poem from the Writer's Almanac. I hope it makes you smile on this Wednesday morning.
(And I have to preface your reading of this poem by admitting that one of my greatest pet peeves is when people tell me to breathe. By God, if I'm having a crisis, you can respect my crisis and emit soothing sounds or just shut up. Don't, for crying out loud, superciliously tell me to "breathe.")
Poem: "To the Man in a Loden Coat" by Deborah Garrison, from The Second Child. © Random House, 2007.
To the Man in a Loden Coat
Hey, mister
man in a loden coat
standing in front of me
on the escalator and blocking my
way—
I know
I'm self absorbed,
particularly at this hour,
5:22 to be precise and I need
to make the 5:25 home—
don't you know that in this city,
in this life, we
walk on the left,
stand on the right?
Don't tell me to chill out,
don't tell me to "breathe,"
I hate breathing
I mean unless it is happening
without my knowing it,
which is, thank God, most of the time,
and don't tell me life is long
because it actually isn't
it's all I can do not to
give you a sweet shove
on your rich loden back,
same as all the bottled-up
left-lane travelers
behind me want to do
to my own navy-clad shoulder,
a nice blue to your green,
like water for the earth,
sky for the forest,
green and blue a tea for two,
etc., among the vistas
that call me home now,
at 5:23, about to miss the bus,
so would you please
MOVE OVER?
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Do I? Don't I? Dare I?
With each failed almost-relationship, and with each someone-new, it becomes more difficult to screw up one's courage to . . . . To what? To believe? To dare to believe? To think the Universe will deign to smile on you and bring you some happiness again?
Sometimes I envy those people who are perfectly content to go through the rest of their lives alone. I'm not there. I don't even know if I could ever get there.
Lee took me to breakfast on the beautiful blue Honda Goldwing Sunday morning. He's renovating his house, a long protracted project. He said if he ever meets a woman who has the potential of becoming his life partner for the rest of his life, she'd better love this house and be willing to move into it because he's put so much sweat equity and thought into it.
I suggested they could have separate houses and retold the story about all the [older] couples in Tucson where the man lives in the guest house and the woman lives in the main house.
"Not interested," he immediately replied.
He then quoted me to me, the phrase about wanting to wrap my leg around the warm body of a loving man lying next to me in bed.
Am I willing to relax some of my standards or polish some of my rough edges to be able to have that intimacy day-in and day-out? Dare I believe that's even possible?
Sometimes I envy those people who are perfectly content to go through the rest of their lives alone. I'm not there. I don't even know if I could ever get there.
Lee took me to breakfast on the beautiful blue Honda Goldwing Sunday morning. He's renovating his house, a long protracted project. He said if he ever meets a woman who has the potential of becoming his life partner for the rest of his life, she'd better love this house and be willing to move into it because he's put so much sweat equity and thought into it.
I suggested they could have separate houses and retold the story about all the [older] couples in Tucson where the man lives in the guest house and the woman lives in the main house.
"Not interested," he immediately replied.
He then quoted me to me, the phrase about wanting to wrap my leg around the warm body of a loving man lying next to me in bed.
Am I willing to relax some of my standards or polish some of my rough edges to be able to have that intimacy day-in and day-out? Dare I believe that's even possible?
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