Sunday, October 1, 2017

Unwitting observance

Celebrating Yom Kippur unwittingly. Observance involves the following 5 conditions, which can be met either on purpose for holiday practice, OR by accident, when planning a funeral. #sucks #starving


. . .


The traditions are as follows:

  1. No eating and drinking
  2. No wearing of leather shoes
  3. No bathing or washing
  4. No anointing oneself with perfumes or lotions
  5. No marital relations

A parallel has been drawn between these activities and the human condition according to the Biblical account of the expulsion from the garden of Eden.[9] Refraining from these symbolically represents a return to a pristine state, which is the theme of the day. By refraining from these activities, the body is uncomfortable but can still survive. The soul is considered to be the life force in a body. Therefore, by making one's body uncomfortable, one's soul is uncomfortable.[9] By feeling pain one can feel how others feel when they are in pain.[10] This is the purpose of the prohibitions.




(Sent from my phone)

Sunday, September 17, 2017

Relationship milestone

"That may be the first time in the history of life that anyone ever discussed creating a will while undressing."

(Sent from my phone)

Sunday, September 10, 2017

Watching girls / GIRLS

Me: "Okay! I'll be upstairs. I'm going to watch GIRLS and exercise."

Hubby: "I wanna watch girls and exercise too!"

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

The fine print on authenticity

"Be authentic!" people say. The message, so very fitting of our kale-eating, yoga-pant-wearing times, screams at us from "lifestyle guru" tweet streams and other various social media.
From Fluffycatheven

 We like this idea. You mean... just be myself? Awesome. I always wanted to be me.

What they don't tell you is the fine print on authenticity. That you'll have to get comfortable with disapproval and hurting people's feelings and righting incorrect notions.

Source
 A few hours ago, I finished up at a work conference and packed up to leave. On the way to the exit, I ran into two coworkers on the cocktail line.

"You're not staying for happy hour??" they asked, aghast.

"No," I said.

They looked at me blankly, waiting for a proper explanation. The weight of the expectation was heavy: how could I justify not staying for happy hour? Drinks were free, for chrissake!

Source
If I were honest, I would have shared that I don't even like to drink, and that I wasn't in the mood for socializing. That I just wanted to get home. That I had 10 hours of sleep in 2 days and my stomach was twisted in knots and I wanted to be curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around me watching the rain. That the noise was too much.

I didn't want to share any of that because half the time sharing truth seems to open the door to further questioning and I didn't feel like being challenged.

No, really, I don't like to drink. I don't know why. I don't want to socialize right now, no. I have enough friends, thank you, and I know how to be bubbly and friendly and appreciate the value of meeting strangers, but not right now.

Why do we have to justify ourselves so much? It's exhausting. Humans are inquisitive primates poking verbal sticks at anyone outside the norm (whether it be the norm of the moment or the year or the decade).

Yes, allow myself to explain my species. I'm from a North American subtype of middle-aged female that is missing the taste buds for alcohol. They've been replaced with ones that respond only to chocolate. No, I don't know why. It's not personal. I promise, when I don't make you feel less self-conscious by joining you in having a glass of wine that I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. Can't we just toast your drink to my brownie?

Source
Why do people need so much approval from each other? How can we be authentic if we aren't the same, but sameness is so prized? Mimicry is the highest form of flattery but difference invites curiosity, disapproval, misunderstanding. It's very vulnerable to be different amongst a herd species.

I was inauthentic yesterday too.

A friend offered a glass of wine. "No, I'll have to go home soon and I can't drive, even on one glass," I explained.

That is true, and is also simpler than adding that I don't even really like it.

I took some seltzer water.

She seemed shy at drinking alone so I offered a recent discovery I made two days ago: that chocolate wine is the BOMB. I tasted it and thought "wow, a wine I really like!" I shared this with her.

"OMG! I love it too! I have a bottle, why don't you come over some eve? We'll share it and have a great girl's night out. Oh if you can't drive... oh, we will have a sleepover! That'll be soooo much fun!"

The following horrid thoughts instantly went through my unkind head. (I said none of them.)
Source
  • A whole bottle?? I mean, I said I liked that wine, and I meant it, but I still had the tiniest of servings. I had TWO shot glasses. That's huge for me, but probably not even HALF an actual real glass. I'm definitely NOT your "share a bottle of wine with" kind of gal, unless you want most of the bottle. (Which could be a very happy arrangement for the right person.)
  • I hate sleeping at other people's houses. I shared how much I hate guest rooms before, and said it more than once. I need to be in my own bed, with the pillows just so and the temperature just right and the room especially dark with my custom room-darkening curtains. I want my husband next to me. I want to awaken to the way he grabs me and pulls me close and tells me how crazy he is about me while still half-asleep and lingering in a dream state of honeymoon bliss. I want those butterflies to linger in my belly as I curl locks of his hair around my fingers and disregard our morning breath. I want to know where the bathroom is when I wake up in the middle of the night. (I can't even find the light switch in her bathroom during the day. I'll die in there at night!) I want to sleep in my own bed.
  • Oh and I'm allergic to cats. Just because I let them sniff my hand doesn't mean I want to spend 24 hours inhaling dander.
  • I'm trying to lose weight, I do not want or need alcohol's empty calories!
I didn't know how to share any of this. It felt mean.

Source
It made her so happy to think about having a girl's sleepover downing that bottle of chocolate wine together. So I nodded and said it sounded like fun, someday.

Authenticity is easier in private....

Friday, August 18, 2017

How the "never again!!" conversations go

Brain: Get up. She'll be here any minute.

Body: But it feels so good to lie here on the floor.

Brain: You should probably login too and be productive before she gets here.

Body: But the floor... maybe I could just sneak in a nap.

Brain: Also you were going to clean.

Body: But the floor...

Brain: You should at least text her to tell her you're home.

Body: But I live here now, on the floor. It's glorious. I'm never getting up. 

Brain: FINE!! We are NEVER inviting anyone over after work again.

Body: Yay!!

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

But how DO you tell someone you have herpes? (a lesson in NOT clicking links)

So, someone wrote into an advice column that they discovered they had herpes and wondered what to do now that they were dating. They wanted permission not to tell anyone because, after all, they were only having casual sex, so why bother letting anyone know? (Yes, that is absolutely horrid, but I've ceased being surprised by terrible people ever since this last election.)

Well, I got sucked into the article and the comments and someone replied with a link to an article called "HOW TO TELL SOMEONE YOU HAVE HERPES." I thought, huh, that sounds interesting, how DO you tell someone you have herpes?

So I clicked on it, read the article and went back to work.

Later I realized FUCK. That was on my WORK. COMPUTER.  Now the entire IT Department will think I have herpes. Great.

I'll bring in brownies and they'll be all "oh, don't touch those, that girl with the open sores made them."

::facepalm::

My only defense is weak. When I am ACTUALLY researching a disease I think I have, I SCOUR the fucking internet for hours. Not one click. But imagine trying to explain that!