Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Do Go Changing

You know that song that has the lyrics about not changing to try and please him?  The ones where he loves you just the way you are?  Its here in case you don't.

I was thinking about this song today, because I secretly like Billy Joel AND because its not true.  The song should really say something along the lines of "I'd prefer it if you'd go ahead and change, but that's probably not going to happen so I'll love you anyway."  I'm not sure it has the same ring to it, but it sure rings more true to me. 

In reality, there are plenty of people we "love" but would love even more if they would just be exactly the kind of person we want them to be. Is that really too much to ask? I don't mean little stuff, either.  I have broken my husband of quite a few annoying little traits that I won't mention here.  But, I'm talking about the kind of people who you don't know well enough or they won't love you unconditionally enough to change FOR you. 

I was talking to my mom about someone today, and we both agreed that we wish they would see the unfair things they do that are so clear to us.  That rang a bell about some other people that I spend a good deal of time wishing would change but don't seem able or willing to.  So, it takes us to a crossroads.  These people are not going to change for us.We have to be the changers, and change the way we react to the things they do.  If not, it will stay stuck in our craw (to use a good ol' southern phrase) and they will stay going right on along doing what they're doing.  They don't suffer... we do, because we stew.  But, stewing is a lot easier than a craw removal.

I can talk the talk, but I struggle to accept things I cannot change.  I'd be a terrible AA member.  I want to be able to talk through the issue and let them see the light.  However, that has blown up in my face quite a bit.  Usually its because the thing I am seeing just isn't seen.  Apparently, my light is not universal.  Who knew?  Other times it could be because they see it, but they don't care enough to change.  Another shocker!  People might actually not want to mold themselves into my perfect image of them. Wacky.  So, I am trying to change myself.  To let things go.  Put them down.  Recognize that I cannot change people and make them who I want them to be. What I can change is how much room they take in my head, in my heart and how much time they take up in my day.  I can change that, I think.  But if not, I may need a recommendation of a good craw surgeon in the future.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

I Am Old

I am not the kind of person who fears getting older.  Hitting 30 was not a trauma, I welcomed it.  Of course, I had already pretty much hit my milestones by then.  I built a successful career (and then walked away from it, which was kind of fun, too).  I got married (for the first time so far) and had kids.  In fact, by the time I hit 30, I was good. I celebrated with pink hair extensions.  No sadness there.  Each year after that has been just an other candle on the cake.  After all, getting older sure beats the alternative, right?  But, suddenly as I am within weeks of 35, I am feeling O L D.

I am not sure its even the date that is morphing my Google searches from combat boots to orthopedic shoes, but the fact that I feel old.  I am the oldest 34 year 50 week old on the planet.  Case in point (or points):
  • My birthday and Christmas wish list for my parents and husband includes a Shark Steam Mop and a Dustbuster.  Hello, Middle Age.  My name is Lynn, but at least I'll be clean.
  • I have plantar fasciitis.  While that is a foot thingy, it just sounds like the scientific term for "old."
  • When I stand from a seated position, there is a cacophony of sounds from creaking ankles, cracking knees, and a guttural groan from the exertion.
  • I seriously look forward to the days where I can wear elastic waist pants (but I blame it on work.)
  • When my friends came over on Halloween with their little baby, I spent a great deal of time discussing my ulcer and trying to determine if my friend has one, too.  Once you stop talking current events and gossip and start comparing ailments, its all down hill from there.
  • I have gone from being the youngest in the group, be it at work or the neighborhood, to not.  I work with a 24 year old and my next door neighbor is one, too.  For those of you doing the math, I am a decade older than my peers.  So, when I talk to my friend about how I was in middle school when she was graduating college.... there are now people who can say that to me!  TO ME!!!!
So, the long and the short of it is that I'm old.  I am turning 35 and I am moving like an old person, shopping like an old person, talking like an old person.  I am an old person.  And, if I am this old at only 35...  God help us all when I hit 40!

Saturday, November 9, 2013


Every month I get together with a group of women to play Bunco.  Its a funny thing, because number one, they all joked about me blogging about them last night and now I am doing it  and two, because when I was first invited, I scoffed about it.  I thought it was a game for old ladies and I didn't know most of the other women well, if at all.  I am not a good "make new friends-er" and I was hesitant to join the group.  But, my desire to abandon my husband and children for the night won out and I went.  

There is absolutely no reason why this group works.  We are all women who live in the same neighborhood, but the similarities stop there.  I am a pretty liberal lady, and the woman who started the group is anything but.  Last night's hostess was an animal lover to put it mildly with three rescued dogs, some number of cats and rumor has it there was a guinea pig in the house somewhere.  Others were cringing at the furry visitors as they came by.  There are mothers, marrieds, singles, divorcees, grandmothers, career professionals, stay home moms, public schoolers, home schoolers, health nuts and some are just plain nuts.  But, we come together on the second Friday of the month and we play a silly little dice game of luck and we talk... and we laugh... and we learn from each other anything from recipes to health plans to how to get my new dog to stop pooping upstairs.

It is odd to think that a group like ours could forge friendships with people who have nothing in common, but it did.  We are a melting pot of women who don't get together and worry about competing.  We cheer the other team as they score higher points and the usual female cattiness is left at the door.  Its a weird thing, this Bunco.  Its brought together a group of neighbors and turned us into friends.  Maybe the world would be a better place if there was a little more Bunco going on.