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Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Priorities

I have decided that there’s a disturbance in The Force lately. Well, at least the force surrounding me. Electricity is going haywire. Today, after several days of electronic miscues and coughing starts, my car battery died. A few days ago my hair dryer sputtered, spit out one last heroic spark and gave up the ghost. The automatic sprinklers tripped off. The hot water recirculation pump timer went bonkers. It all started a couple of weeks ago on a Thursday afternoon.

I was doing a little laundry. The sheets were in the dryer and the towels were in the washer. I decided I needed a little snooze, so I stretched out on the loveseat in the family room and fell asleep. When I woke up an hour later around 4:00 pm, I headed to the laundry room. But first I stopped at the bathroom– the hall bathroom with no windows. I flipped the light switch and nothing happened. Damn, the light must be burned out, I thought. I left the door open and tended to my business, wondering if I had any of those spotlight bulbs that go in the recessed light fixture, trying to remember where the extender was so I could reach the bulb to change it. Annoying, I thought in my fuzzy just-woke-up-from-a-nap state. Prioritizing, I decided to deal with it after tending to the laundry.

In the laundry room, I took the dry sheets out of the dryer, put the wet towels in, shut the door and pushed the Power button. Nothing. I pushed it again. Nothing. I checked the dryer door to make sure it was latched. Yep. I pushed the Power button again. Nothing. That’s when it dawned on me that the power was out. Crap.

It’s funny what you think about when the power’s out. You’d think you would bemoan the lack of telephone or computer or TV or microwave. Apparently, my priorities are different. The first thing I thought of was the brand new package of ice cream bars in the freezer. I figured I’d better go have an ice cream bar before they all melted, because who knew how long the power would be out. I sat there eating my ice cream wondering if it was just my house or the whole block. After I’m done with the ice cream I’ll figure it out, I thought. First things first.

That’s when Gary came home and said the power was out at his studio, too. The electric company website was down. The City website was down. Clearly, this was more far-reaching than our little neighborhood. Gary found our hand cranked emergency radio in a kitchen drawer and started cranking. We couldn’t get any news, though, because President Obama was delivering his jobs speech early so as not to interfere with the NFL season opener. The country has its priorities, too. For me it’s ice cream; for the country it’s football. We listened to the president and occasionally cranked the radio until Gary realized it was also solar powered. He set it on the kitchen floor in a shaft of sunlight and magically the president kept on talking. I felt like I had been transported to the days before television, when whole families sat around the radio for their evening’s entertainment or for fireside chats with the president.

As the sunlight waned the radio did too, and we were back to cranking if we wanted an update on the power situation. Human error, the radio said. One maintenance guy in Arizona had made a mistake and unplugged millions in Southern California. We could be in for a long powerless vigil. I got out the candles and the flashlights and discovered most of the super duper flashlights I’d bought a few years ago had oozing batteries, and I didn’t have the right size replacements. Preparing for an emergency had obviously slipped from the top of my priority list.

I made sandwiches for dinner before the light dimmed too much to see what I was putting in them. After we’d eaten and I’d cleaned up the kitchen, I took a book out to the back yard and sat there reading. I couldn’t think of a better thing to do.

As I sat there, I realized how quiet it was. Without the power for all of the devices that populate our busy lives, the world was gloriously silent. I hadn’t realized how loud the underlying hum of modern life was until it wasn’t there anymore. Even after the sun went down and the moon began to rise, I sat and listened. That’s all I had to do. No decisions were necessary. No prioritizing begged to be done. It was so peaceful. I vowed to make it a priority just to be quiet and listen to the silence more often.

But as soon as the power snapped back on a little after 8:00 pm, the vow was forgotten. I slipped easily back onto the grid. I snuffed out the candles, reset the clocks, rewashed and dried the towels, checked email and caught the end of the football game and a couple of other shows before I went to bed, as if nothing unusual had ever happened.

Maybe that’s what The Force is disturbed about. Maybe all these glitches are meant as reminders to slow down and appreciate the world around me, pay more attention to my priorities. Just don't mess with my ice cream.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Oh Those Voices

Rebecca left the grocery store gently swinging the clear plastic produce bag with the thick stem of broccoli – the green she needed to go with her tilapia. She probably shouldn’t have taken the bag since she was going to soak the Broccoli in her high Ph water anyway. She had enough plastic bags at home to make her own Great Pacific Garbage Patch. She did own a variety of string and cloth bags, but they never seemed to make it into the car, and if they did, they generally didn’t make it into the store. Occasionally she would ask someone to hold her space, or ask the cashier just to wait and not bag her items until she got her ecologically conscious paraphernalia from the car, but she knew this usually caused tongue clucking and eye rolling from the cashier and other patrons. For one bunch of broccoli, it didn’t seem worth the disruption. At least she didn’t take another bag.

As she headed out to her car thinking about the plastic strewn Pacific, she noticed the unmanned makeshift booth with its homemade sign for The Falzy Residential Home, a place that helped unfortunate people get back on their feet. She’d been asked for money before from a sad looking man who collected the donations in a shabbily decorated tin can. She was glad nobody was there to pester her for money today.

Walking toward her car, Beth began thinking I should look them up on the internet. I’ll bet I find something about them that shows that they don’t exist or that they’re a bunch of unscrupulous thieves. Then she stopped herself. Why do I always do this? she thought. Why can’t I just let it go or think nothing of it or think something positive? Maybe it is a good organization; maybe they do good work for people; maybe it’s worthwhile to support. She took a breath and scowled her way into the car.

“I want to be a nice person” she whined to the empty car. “I really do.” She let her head fall onto the steering wheel and silently screamed afraid that a verbal scream would have to be explained. Her facial expression would have scared anyone who looked at her had she made that face available to scrutiny. Frowning and making a ‘hut hut hut’ sound in her throat, she said out loud “I can’t stand all of these fucking horrible thoughts that go through my head all the time. It is soooo frustrating and I don’t know what to do.”

A voice from the backseat said “Get over it. You’re such a drama queen.”

She flipped her head around kinking her neck “Owww!” There was no one there.

“Great. Now I’m hallucinating.”

She started up the car and had to drive by the grocery store entrance to leave. A slightly disheveled man was now stationed by the makeshift booth. Before she got to it she stopped the car, reached into the glove-box and took out four of the quarters that otherwise would have been deposited into a parking meter. She rolled down her window, smiled and nodded her head to the man by the booth.

She dropped the coins into his hand. “God bless you,” he said exchanging her fake smile for a genuine one.

Beth raised the window, took a deep breath and drove to the street.

“I am such a sucker,” she said to herself. “Good thing I have caller ID.”

Monday, September 5, 2011

More Purple

Foreclosures, job losses, anti-Semitism, hate speak, divorce, amber alerts… Too much horrible stuff, and unfortunately, that seems to be what most of the media and many people want to focus on. One could be led to think that nothing good is happening anywhere, and yet there is good – lots of it. Many people are happy; even if their life situations aren’t idealic or even, in some cases, good. Two recent events have proven to me that I have grown, that I have actually been able to take past unpleasantnesses and turn them into the proverbial lemonade.

The first was a youth production of Les Mis Company in Los Angeles. In the production was the 16 year old daughter of my ex-husband’s second ex-wife (I am the first). Attending the performance were said ex-wife, our mutual ex-husband, and his wife-to-be number three. The actress’s biological father was in attendance as well, though his current wife was not there as she had already seen the production and only the biological parents are required to attend all 400 performances.

There was lots of laughter and happy bantering and one would think we were just a collection of good friends out for a nice afternoon. Which, I guess, we were. We are a motley crew who like each other and get along. We have defied the odds.

The second event was the wedding of communal ex-husband, who has proven his desire to keep trying this well-worn institution. Ex-Wife Number Two will more than likely marry again as they are both incurable romantics who want to be in relationships. I am an incurable hermit who actually enjoys being alone.

When my ex-husband called to tell me he was dating someone who he discovered I knew (though not well), I was excited and happy for them both. I liked this woman a great deal when I met her a year earlier. When he called again months later to say they had decided to get married, I, in a moment of insanity, invited myself to their wedding (I did NOT attend wedding number two – too close – not enough time had passed).

After hanging up and realizing what I had done, fear, regret, and nervousness began to bubble up. Several days later I finally called back, apologized, and offered to rescind my self-invitation. I did not want to cause any unpleasantness. I was told that because Third-Wife-To-Be liked me, she was fine with my attending. Her parents were a little confused, but not so uncomfortable they couldn’t accept it.

Despite the tangled web of relationships, all the players from all the various marriages do get along. After my divorce, the most important factor to me was that whatever woman Ex-Husband dated and perchance married, MUST love, appreciate, respect, and enjoy our daughter. It is an added bonus, through lots of personal growth work that I was determined to get along with them as well (though I didn’t have to LOVE them).

Ex-Wife Number Two liked and still likes our daughter. They still spend time together in person and on the phone. In the early days that made me a neurotic and jealous. What if Offspring liked Wife Number Two better? But the loving, kind, and thoughtful relationship which was, I had to constantly remind myself, a requirement of mine for a second wife for Ex-Husband was a much better option than the alternative. There are a plethora of examples of blended families that are disasters, and I have heard too many stories of blended families who appear to be doing fine, but when un-blending occurs, leave behind casualties called children. Children who have been thrown into a difficult situation to start with, but then come to grips with it because they are kindly embraced by the new spouse should not then be abandoned by said EX-spouse. It is horrible.

The 16 year old daughter of Ex-Wife number two has known my ex since she was three. They lived in the same house for many more years than his biological child had. Ex-Step Child is still important in both Ex-Husband and Offspring’s lives. Ex-Step Child is the only sister Offspring has known, and even though they have neither parent in common, which if fairytales are to be believed should be a difficult and disastrous relationship, they get along. They love and appreciate and enjoy each others’ company. Ex-Step-Sister flew to New York for Offspring’s college graduation and we all had a fantastic time together.

Ex-Step Child was, of course, also at the wedding though her mother was not. Too close. Not enough time had yet passed. The wedding was fantastic. It was fun and enjoyable to spend time with old friends, and to enjoy this new familial blending.

Ex-Step Child wore purple which is the preferred color of the bride. In a conversation in her and Ex-Husband’s apartment she said to me “There is not enough purple in the world.” When she made that statement, there was a look of pure delight on her face and true joy in her voice. Purple to her is an indication that all is right with the world. Purple is the proof that all is well.

Offspring, who was listed in the wedding program as ‘the best person/daughter’ also wore purple as did the mother-of-the-bride and the matron of honor, though the bride – because this is her first and hopefully last marriage – wore white.

I donned a purple blouse because I agree, we need more purple in the world.