So There's This Guy....

So there's this guy...
Every female in the world has or will meet him at some point in their life. I first met him in 7th grade. He was dreamy and cute and oh-so-charming and I flashed my smitten 14-year-old eyes at him like nobody's business. For weeks, I stalked him in the hallway, admiring his handsome face and perfect hair from a respectable distance. I even went so far as to inhale deeply if by some chance we passed in the hall, just to smell the aroma of his shampoo or deodorant or whatever the hell it was. I liked the way he smelled. Okay? It's not that weird.  I was sure I'd never have the opportunity to actually speak to him because, lord knows, I was never going to be brave enough to start a conversation.  This, of course, did not deter me from creating an entirely fictional relationship. I dressed in what I thought he'd like; I spoke of things he was interested in and even altered my personality to be more like the kind of girl I thought he might date. Considering my age, I was exceptionally elaborate about the changes I was willing to make to turn his head.
Sadly, I accepted that it was probably all just fantasy.
   But as fate had it, circumstances brought us together through a mutual acquaintance. We began our friendship as I believe all 14 year olds are required; with an exaggerated amount of teasing each other, followed by the world famous junior high version of going 'out'. This basically means you agree that the other person 'doesn't suck' and is okay to be seen hanging out with. This also gives your automatic consent to endure the verbal assault from your friends regarding their opinion of your choice of a mate.
This can be brutal but if you really like this guy, you deal and convince yourself that they're just jealous. 
   In the interest of time, let's skip ahead in the relationship a month or so. We talked on the phone every day, we sometimes hung out a little IN school and occasionally I rode my bike to the park where we met and talked, sometimes for hours. He was a nice guy...until...
   I wasn't aware of it at the time, but apparently boys carry around in their head, a calendar of how long it is acceptable to be gentlemanly before they are allowed access to your, we'll call it 'considerable assets'. He made it clear to me during one of our conversations that my time had expired and I was now expected to satisfy his curiosity about what my 'parts' felt like. I was flabbergasted because no one had sent me that memo. As I hang my head in shame of my 14 year old self, I will admit that, to a certain degree, I consented, all the while feeling like I'd just crossed a border into "Trampville" that I couldn't uncross. I felt cheap and deceived and can look back with absolute certainty knowing that this was where my self-esteem began its massive nosedive.  If that weren't enough, the next time I saw him in school and every time thereafter, he ceased to acknowledge that I existed.  Occasionally he'd call me after school, but I quickly learned it was only because he wanted an encore. I hated myself for doing just what I'd made plans to do; changing myself to attract a boy. It became a mistake I repeated throughout my life.  
  I met this same guy again and again. No matter how many times I moved or changed jobs he was always around.  Of course his name changed many, many times in each city which I found him, but he remained, nonetheless, the same selfish, arrogant ass. I'm sure, if you're a woman, you've also met him.  He's the most ubiquitous man I've ever known.  He makes you feel amazing right before he crushes your self-confidence and makes you question, not only your intelligence but also your attractiveness and femininity. With the awkwardness and eternal waiting period of an unreturned "I like you" text, you begin to question everything about yourself.   I know you can relate. You dated him too, probably more than once.  He gets around and he's not limited to just being a man you date. Sometimes he's a boss or a co-worker.  He can be a neighbor or a complete stranger in an elevator. Wherever it is that you find him, you recognize his perceived ability. With one condescending glance or his head to toe scan when you step in the room, followed by an arrogant smirk, he gives himself away.  He'll do his best to reduce your self-confidence in as few words as possible.  Oh, yes. You'll recognize him.
   I'm proud to say I'm now 53 years old and have finally learned to deflect this guy's attitude back to it's source.  It took a long time, and I still run into 'that guy', but I can boldly say I am not ashamed of any of the things that make me who I am anymore, no matter what he says or does.  I have daughters and granddaughters now; two of them are getting close to dating age (despite my husband's objections).
   I hope that I will be able to teach them to shield themselves against him. They are amazing, intelligent and beautiful girls and to their mother's horror I'm sure, I tell them the mistakes I made because I want them to make better choices.  I want them to know their worth does not depend on what a man or anyone else thinks of them. No one else has the right to determine your value and anyone who tries is revealing more about themselves than you.
   As for me, I refuse to ever again feel ashamed about the things I do or choices I make, even when they aren't ones other people support.  Who we love, how we dress, speak, behave, think and what we believe are our choices. No one has to agree with them, but they do need to accept us as we are, even when we have wrinkles, grey hair and cellulite. Because, Cosmopolitan magazine be damned, we earned them. 
   I am proud of myself and believe anyone I choose to allow in my life should be too. I promise that I will return the support.  If you have enough confidence to be who you truly are, then you've already conquered one of life's biggest obstacles. Be proud of who you are and don't let anyone take that away.
  If by chance you haven't quite got there yet, keep working at it...and once more, let me warn you: 
   So, there's this guy....

Cancer & Life Lessons

It was on this day, 18 years ago, a young man named Tom Cotter chose to save my daughter’s life by donating the bone marrow that sent her leukemia into remission.  For the year we waited to meet him, I thought I would easily be capable of expressing my gratitude for his sacrifice. But it wasn't until I actually saw him in person that I realized there are no words, no actions that will ever convey how thankful I was for his selflessness. Without him, she would not be here. Simple as that. It would've been a loss that affected an innumerable amount of lives because, to this day, she reaches something in the hearts of everyone she meets. How do you thank someone for such an incredible gift?  The only conclusion I've come to is that you remember it, every day. You say 'thank you' every day, even if you're saying it aloud to no one but yourself.

       A huge debt of gratitude is also owed to the most amazing women in the world, who somehow, surrounded by sick and dying children, helped me find the ability to laugh in the worst of circumstances. Of all things I believe, the truest is that no stronger human exists than a mother who has buried her child and somehow finds the strength to persevere. I'm amused at the public and media's notion of super hero's nearly all being male because I've seen the real ones in action. They sleep on a 3-foot long hospital bench for months, going without meals because they don't want to eat in front of their constantly vomiting child,( who wants nothing more than to stop long enough to have a cheeseburger).  They endure attitude from other family members who can't understand why they can't still function normally at home (yes, this really happens). They stand toe to toe with doctors, refusing certain treatments because their mother's instincts tell them it's the right thing to do. And they are nearly always right.

     Brittany's leukemia was in remission for nearly 15 months. On a day she was due for a recheck and blood work, everything that could've happened to prevent us from making it to her appointment, happened. But I had a nagging feeling that something wasn't right, even though she showed no symptoms of reoccurrence. The car died, we were very late, and they almost didn't allow us to be seen. However, I was belligerent, as I’d learned to be, and she was checked by the doctor who was in charge of Pediatric Hematology/Oncology. (Who, just for the record, I did NOT like at all)  In his usual dismissive, condescending manner, he assured me that she looked great and urged us to go home and they would call us with the results of her labs. I politely declined and said we'd wait and he rolled his eyes, brushed me off and walked away. An hour later he returned and his face told me what I already knew. The leukemia was back. I hope, among other things that it taught him to never ignore mother's instincts. We can't leap tall buildings, or beat a speeding train but when it comes to that life we created, we know. I don't know how, but we just know. Images of super hero's should not be men in tights and goofy costumes. For one moment, look up and glance at your mom. THAT'S what they really look like. No cape, no silly wardrobe, (well, maybe they still have a silly wardrobe) just that woman who loves you like no one else ever will, no matter what happens.  That's a real super hero.
   Helen, Donna, Cathy & Jodi the memory of your incredible strength and love, along with your children will NEVER leave me.  You are my courage whenever I feel weak. Thank you, thank you for your presence in my life. You have all been such a gift and I am blessed to know you.
  As anyone who is touched by a loved one with cancer will tell you, it is a disease that leaves no one unaffected, especially when the patient is a child. Siblings are often temporarily lost in the shuffle of hospital visits for chemo, radiation and 2 a.m. runs to the emergency room because a temperature above 100.5 signals the beginning of life-threatening infections.
   School activities, dances and football games are replaced by fixation on how many white cells, segs, bands, and other indicators of our child's immunodeficiency are present.  We almost become the scientists we never thought we'd be when we were barely passing Biology in high school. It's amazing what you are capable of learning when the life of someone you love depends on it. But it takes its toll on the other siblings. My oldest daughter, Nicole and step-son, Eric sacrificed so much during our hospital stays. Forced to grow up too soon and handle things I should've been there for, they managed to become wonderful parents to their own children.  Even though I wish their childhood could've been easier, I'm thankful they grew to be the strong and loving adults I prayed they would. I'm extremely proud of them both.
  To Eric's mom, Cathy: I know people are often flabbergasted by our unique relationship (but sometimes that's just fun! Isn't it?) I don't know if I ever thanked you for your care and compassion. It exceeded all my expectations. You are a phenomenal woman. Never forget that. I'll admire you always.
  I can say with absolute certainty that Brittany's leukemia affected thousands of people. Bone marrow drives were held on her behalf by complete strangers. Hundreds were added to the National Bone Marrow donor registry as a result.  Who knows how many lives were saved in the process.  As devastated as I was while it was happening, hindsight has helped me see the positive that spilled out into other areas. There is a unique and strange pattern to the chaos. I will never understand it but I see it.
  I believe Nicole and Eric are the incredible people they are, in part because of their experiences at the hospital. They continue to amaze me with their unique personalities and ability to show compassion for others.
  Brittany continues to touch countless lives, often quietly and one at a time.  Now a nanny to two adorable little boys, she makes sure they experience the joys of childhood that cancer stole from her.  She is a modern day ‘Mary Poppins’ and they adore her.
  All of this, every bit of it, was possible because of a horrible disease, a handsome young man with a giving heart and the most incredible people in the world.  I try to remember that.  When I watch the news and see how horrible we are to each other, I try to keep the miracle of these exceptional human beings in my heart. Some days it's more difficult than others.  But not today.  Today, I am grateful. Exceptionally grateful for all the good in my life.

Broken engines & bullshit

I laughed as I hung up the phone.  A male friend spent an hour describing an argument he had with the serpentine belt of his car.  Apparently, unarmed with the knowledge of what the belt’s actual function was, he lost the fight and spent several hours stranded on the side of a deserted road.   After my obvious shock of learning of a man who is mechanically impaired, (I was not aware such creatures existed), I wiped the tears of laughter from my face. My dad was responsible for my enlightenment about the importance of basic car repair.  I remember my own experience with automotive rebellion.

In my early twenties, 'Lucy' was my teacher. She was a deep-maroon 1986 Reliant K with a 2.5-liter engine. Shaped like a cereal box on wheels, my little 4-door sedan was anything but sexy.  Even the 5-speed manual transmission (normally a feature that makes you feel at least a LITTLE sporty) could not change the fact that you felt as appealing as if you were barhopping with a nun.  There was absolutely no sensuality to this car.  One particularly wintry day, this Reliant (as in: derivative of the word 'reliable'-adjective:  having or exhibiting reliability, dependable...really, look it up) appeared to have forgotten its purpose.  Rushing out to the parking lot, late for work as usual, I turned the key expecting to hear the familiar drone of her engine. Hamsters exercising in their wheel sounded more powerful than this car. Instead, a low chorus of hub, hub, hub, pffftt assaulted my ears shortly before she gasped her final breath.  Trudging back inside, I made the call to my employer who felt it necessary to scream about my lack of reliability. Ironic, isn't it?  I hub, hub, hub, pffftt-ed at him and proceeded to hang up and look for a mechanic.  

Now, any female will tell you there is NOTHING worse than trying to find a mechanic. This becomes especially unnerving when you are attempting to explain the problem to some guy in a blue shirt whose name patch looks like it says 'Mary' because there is so much grease covering it.
 

I replicated the noise I heard for 'Mary' as he looked at me dumbfounded. For a moment, I envisioned his eyes rolling back in his head just before he viciously attacked me with an exhaust pipe.  As the cigarette dangling on his lip released a long stream of ashes that fell squarely into his pocket, I could not help but feel completely clueless and totally exposed as a female. I tried to comfort myself by imagining how vulnerable he would feel if he were to walk into a gourmet kitchen (my ‘hood’) but the dunce cap I imagined on my head would not go away.
 

'Mary' looked at me in wide-eyed wonder before pulling his ash-covered pen from his breast pocket, taking my name and telling me to have a seat.
"It's gonna be at least an hour before we're done diagnosing it." Smoke escaped from his lips with every word, mingling with my expensive perfume and soaking me in that bar-chick smell.  I'd never felt more attractive in a cheap-bowling-alley way.
 

Amidst stares from the rest of the fraternity brothers gathered in the waiting area, I grabbed a seat in the furthest corner and hid my face behind the first magazine I found. 'Car and Driver', the summer issue from 1972.  I'd been looking forward to reading that one.  No chance of finding a copy of Cosmo or People magazine at that dive.
 

Minutes ticked away like hours.  ESPN blared the latest football scores and re-played game highlights.  The good old boys in the waiting room discussed athlete's salaries and became belligerent about who-deserves-what.  Their conversation got louder by the minute.
 

"It's a fuckin' game, damn it!"  A few heads turned in my direction. I assumed they were waiting for me to comment on their language but I'm not stupid.  Objecting would have the equivocal consequences of walking into an NFL locker rooms and screaming, "Football is for sissies!"
 I ducked quietly behind my magazine and read about the 'amazing new Ford Pinto' with eager anticipation.

"Buncha pampered asses… don't know how good they got it!" The conversation raged on.  All I could think was,  'I want my Dad'.
 

Seventy-two minutes later, 'Mary' called me to the counter.
"You got a bad carburetor. Need to replace it.  You’re probably looking at about three-hundred bucks when you add labor." He growled at me with an evil smirk.
 I twisted my face into a knot. Something didn't add up."My carburetor," I asked, "How can that be?"
He laughed a 'holier-than-thou' laugh.  "Yeah lady, you got a vacuum leak. Do you know what that is? It means you gotta replace your carburetor." He turned to the brothers who were hanging on every word and rolled his eyes. They smiled in conspiracy.
 "Yes, yes, I know what that means.  I just have one question."
 He looked at me with disgust.  I could almost see him gloating over his imagined superiority.
"What's that, doll?"
 I took a deep breath, summoning all my courage.
"My car is fuel injected, Mary, so how can it need a carburetor?"  His eyes took on a deer in the headlight look as I continued. "1986 saw the end of the 2.6 liter engine and the addition of fuel injection on the 2.2.  The five-speed manual became standard, and a 2.5-liter engine was standard. This 2.5 had single-point fuel injection.”
At that point, the cigarette fell from his mouth.
 

"A carburetor supplies a pre-emulsified froth of fuel and air into the engine at a preset ratio while fuel injection sprays droplets of fuel at the proper air-to-fuel ratio all the time. NEITHER of these have anything to do with a vacuum leak.  So tell me again. Why do I need to replace a part that my car does not have in the first place?"
 

'Mary's' brothers in arms deserted him suddenly, heading for the coffee machine with untold speed.
 

"Uh, um, I must've looked at the wrong work order, Miss."  He stuttered with newfound humility.  "I'll check that out and be right back."  He slithered timidly back to the shop area.
 

When I left the building, I had a new vacuum hose in place, 'MARV'S' sincerest apologies and a greater respect for my Dad.  He was a car salesman for over twenty years.  He encouraged me to learn what I could about my vehicle so I would not be taken advantage of by mechanics looking to make an easy buck.  Bless you, Dad.  If you are up there listening, thank you very much.  That knowledge came in handy ten years later when I rebuilt the cylinder head on my Ford Probe...by myself.  The guy at the auto parts store wasn't very helpful.  I think his name was Roberta, but I'm not sure.  His shirt was pretty greasy.

30 Things Driver's Ed Never Taught Me

I was lucky. I had a great driving instructor in high school. He was patient, funny and had nerves of steel. Anyone who knew him will tell you the same story. He was well known for his introduction at the beginning of every semester; "My name is Frank Liller. My friends call me Frank. YOU are not my friends."  He always did his best to look as stern as possible but once in the car with him, his sense of humor took over. Some of my best high school memories are from those Saturday mornings spent in the driver's ed car with him and a varied mixture of other wannabe drivers.  

Now, thirty seven years later, I find myself talking to my oldest granddaughter who will soon be learning to drive, and I can still hear Mr. Liller's voice in my head. I always try to give her the same advice he gave us and I hope she'll be a safe, considerate and responsible driver, but I've also learned after all these years on the road, that we weren't exactly given ALL the information.

So I've come up with some of my own rules and I felt compelled to share. Please feel free to add your own in the comment section. I'm sure there are a lot I've missed.  Happy driving everyone and always, ALWAYS be safe.

Vicky's Rules-Things my driver's ed course never taught me.

1. I have a confession: Sometimes I won't use my turn signal just because I'm lazy. I have noticed I am not alone in this behavior. Consider yourself warned. I have also noticed that I (and others) occasionally use the turn signal continuously. I have been known to forget to shut it off and be completely oblivious as to why people are waving, flashing their lights and honking at me in an attempt to point out my idiocy. I am now 52 years old and somewhat forgetful at times. I plan on sticking with this excuse for my lapses in judgement for the remainder of my life. Suck it up!  I'll do what I want.

2. If you follow me too closely I may tap the brakes every few seconds, just to piss you off. When I'm not in a hurry, no one else is allowed to be either

3. Contrary to rule #2, if I am following you and you continually hit your brakes for no apparent reason, I reserve the right to loudly declare you an idiot, pass you, and then proceed with acting out rule #2.

4. If you come speeding up next to me when there was a huge sign saying your lane is ending, I have the right to ignore you and then giggle uncontrollably when you are forced off the road. Similarly, if you approach a construction zone where everyone is CLEARLY waiting in line to merge and it is obvious you're going to attempt to cut into the front of the line, I am allowed to pull just far enough out of line to prevent you from passing us. I will not have to worry about regaining my place in line because the other drivers have seen what a jerk you are and will gladly allow me to re-occupy my spot.  The rule is 'wait your turn and suffer like the rest of us', you jackass.

5. If I see you stuck by the side of the road because you've run out of gas, I will not stop and pick you up. If you're not smart enough to remember to put gas in your car, you have no business driving one.

6. Headlights, bumpers and windshield wipers are VITAL  parts of your vehicle. So are doors. If you are missing more than two of these items, please see a mechanic or do not drive it. Also, please be advised that cardboard, plastic and duct tape are not suitable replacements for a window. ESPECIALLY a rear window.

7. Discovering your exit is coming up next on the right while you are in the far left lane, does not entitle you to cut off 3 or more lanes of traffic to get to it.   

8. Additionally, if you missed your exit because you were too busy talking on that cell phone that is illegal to use (without a hands-free device), the rest of us are required to not only keep you from exiting there but to prevent you from getting off the freeway anywhere for the next five miles.

9. The people from the Guinness Book of World Records are not following your vehicle. So it is not necessary to try and set any records for multi-tasking while driving. No one is impressed that you can eat your egg McMuffin, drink your coffee, check your email and call your office while driving perfectly. The reason we are not impressed is that you SUCK AT IT! You are weaving all over the road, you pompous ass! Put it all down and DRIVE!!

10. Every scratch and dent on my car was put there by Asian women drivers. This is not racist or profiling, this is FACT. No matter where I am, if I see an Asian woman driving anywhere in my vicinity, I WILL take evasive action. Please do not be offended.  Because of these incidents, my mechanic has been on several luxury vacations so I am now convinced he has these drivers searching me out because he wants to take his family to Jamaica. I may have to take a second job to keep him in the lifestyle to which he has become accustomed.

11. Roll your windows up if you're going to blast your music while driving in the city. I am not impressed that you're 55 years old and still remember the words to "I can't get no satisfaction."  I like the Rolling Stones too, but I would rather hear THEM singing it.  If you do not have a Grammy, please don't serenade us. It's a red light. We're trapped there with your horrible voice and no aspirin.

12.  I am not impressed when you 'peel out'...especially if you're doing it between stop lights that are two hundred feet apart so 30 seconds later you're next to me at a red light...again

13. If I'm trying to merge on to the highway and there is no one on the other side of you, please move over and let me in. I promise I'll stay behind you for that hundredth of a second you will save by cutting me off.

14. Pulling out into a busy road and not sure you have enough time to join traffic? Do us all a favor and count to 10. If it's clear, pull out. If not, you probably just saved yourself and someone else from a life flight ride to the hospital because of your impatience.  Way to go!

15. The surest way to make me slow down to a crawl is by tailgating and honking your horn at me.  My husband taught me this. Unless you or someone you love is bleeding profusely, dying or something is on fire, you're just going to have to wait. If you're so late for work or your kids soccer game/birthday party or a date, that you have to go 85mph, chances are whoever is waiting for you is already pissed, so why be in a hurry to get yelled at.

16. When waiting in line, I will usually let you go in front of me...unless you're that idiot who just forces his way in by nearly hitting my car. I drive an older model vehicle which has already been abused by the aforementioned Asian woman in rule #10. I also live in a 'no fault insurance' state. So I have no problem allowing my beat up car to mark it's territory on your shiny BMW or Jaguar. I also carry the minimum car insurance necessary, so my rates won't go up because you're a dick. Think about it. You have a lot more to lose than I do.

17.  Passing me on icy roads going 60 mph will lead to my hysterical laughter and a congratulatory "nice driving" wave when I pass your car in the ditch a few miles up the road.

18. If I allow you to merge in front of me and you don't give me the 'thank you' wave, expect me to cut you off the first chance I get, you ungrateful bastard. Didn't anyone teach you manners?

19. I'm happy you love your Rottweiler, poodle, insert-pet-name-here. I also don't care. Please don't feel the need to litter the back of your car with stickers proclaiming your love. It's distracting and truthfully a little disturbing. I love my dogs too but I don't plaster it all over my vehicle.

20. I'm glad your bumper sticker says you're proud of your honor student. Have you told your child that or is it just your intention to make the other parents who don't have honor students feel like failures? I have to wonder about your motives. .

21. Parents whose bumper stickers say 'My kid can beat up your honor student' should be commended.  Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, you twisted individual. See a therapist immediately!!

22. If I see you've taken up two parking spaces by parking diagonally so no one will hit your precious car, I will assume you are blind, take the appropriate action and have your car towed.

23. As previously mentioned, my car is full of dents and scratches because well, I DRIVE it, I don't coddle it. I would rather coddle the PEOPLE in my life, not the material things. That being said, don't be surprised if, when you leave me 6 inches of space to open my door, I reciprocate by leaving YOU a little something on YOUR door.

24. Please do not be tempted to use twine and tape to re-attach any parts that have fallen or been knocked off your car. No good can come of this and it speaks volumes about you to other drivers. Also do not, under any circumstances think that coloring your missing brake lights with a red sharpie or your daughter's Crayola is an acceptable replacement for buying a new bulb.  Seriously.

25. Putting makeup on while driving. The only thing this will accomplish is to make you look good at the morgue. Stop it!

26. If you are not comfortable driving on the freeway, stay off of it! Merging with 70 mph traffic while going 35 mph should be considered reckless endangerment. I am convinced a large amount of accidents are caused by people not keeping up with the flow of traffic. I'm all in favor or a Zen-like lifestyle, but if you're going to meditate, please don't do it in traffic. I have no doubt Buddha would agree with this.

27. Some genius decided traffic signs would be helpful. It's also helpful if you READ them. They're even more helpful if you don't wait until the last second to do what they tell you.

28. Occasionally my car decides it's tired and wants to rest for awhile. You wouldn't be swearing because you're stuck behind me if you hadn't thought it would be fun to see how close you could get to my bumper. What? No, I would never fake a stalled car just to get back at someone for tailgating....(wink, wink.)

29. If you cannot parallel park a self-parking car, run, do not walk to the licensing agency nearest you and surrender your license. Really. Do it. Someone obviously made a serious error in judgment.

And last but not least...

30. If you're riding in a limo for some reason, it is mandatory that you lower a window and allow the cars surrounding you to see if you're someone famous or influential.  Some of us might think you're an Oscar winning director who looks at us plain folk in the car next to you and says "That face! It's perfect for my next film and I'm going to make her rich and famous!!"

Okay, well maybe that last one's just me.

What SHE said.."I just KNOW"

My youngest moved back home from Virginia and was living with us while she waited to get into college.  She'd  been gone for a while so one of her friends came to spend the weekend with her.  Both young women are in their early twenties.
 
 Apparently, her new love interest consumed a large portion of her life because I swear that's all she talked about for two days.  On and on she went about what's-his-name this, and what's-his-name that. I thought my head was going to explode.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all for sappy, gooey, frequently nauseating young love; I just have limitations as to how much I can take.  (Really...I sat through the movies Twilight & New Moon. If I can handle all that spewing of overly-dramatic-I'll-die-if-I-can't-be-with-you crap, I can handle anything.) You can't have a weak stomach and go see those movies. You'll bring up your lunch.

 As we were driving down the road, with her in the passenger seat, she started yammering on about how she knows "He's the ONE".  Blah, Blah, Blah, she continued on, listing all the plans SHE was making for their future together. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I cleared my throat as loudly as possible, interrupting her incessant chatter.  I heard a quiet giggle from my daughter, who sat unassumingly in the back seat.  She knew what was coming.  She was well aware of her mother's penchant for trying to open a subject up for discussion.  She also knew how bull-headed and short sighted her friend was.  Although an intelligent young woman, she had a reputation for being an immovable rock when it came to her opinions. As far as she was concerned, she was always right. End of discussion.  To me, this attitude was an irresistible invitation. I adore people like that. "Let the games begin", I thought, smirking at my daughter in the rear view mirror.  She smiled, bracing herself for the storm.

"How do you know?", I spouted, stopping her mid-sentence.
She looked at me, dumbfounded that I would interrupt her. "How do I know WHAT?"
I furrowed my brow, putting on my best concerned-parent look.  "How do you know he's the one?"
"I just know," she stated defiantly.
"But HOW do you know." I repeated.
She looked confused. "I don't understand what you mean. I KNOW he's the one I want to be with forever."
"But what makes you say that," I continued.
She was getting tense and fidgety.
"Because I can FEEL it," she insisted, assuming the conversation was over.
I was just getting warmed up.
"Well, WHY do you feel that way?"
She scowled, obviously irritated.  "Because he makes me feel good."
Now, those of you who read my previous post (Perfect advice, yeah right) will know my opinion of someone making you feel good.
"How?" I continued.

She snorted, and I could see the frustration on her face.
"I don't know," she almost yelled, "he just DOES! He's sweet to me and we like a lot of the same things..."
I threw my head back and laughed.
"Ha! You've just described the relationship I have with my mailman, but I don't feel that's grounds to marry him!"
She threw her hands up in the air. "Well, I don't know how to describe it."
"Why not," I probed. " You should. I can give you a list of things I love about my husband and what makes us perfect for each other."
"I dunno," she stammered, "He's cute and nice and...oh, I dunno."
I shook my head disapprovingly.  "You should be able to tell me exactly what it is you love about him, if he really IS the one."
Clearing my throat, I began my list.
"I love that my husband is kind to me, even when my hormones make me a raging lunatic. I love that he is a man who keeps his word if he promises you something.  I love that he loves my daughters and granddaughters as if they're his own.  I love that he always believes in me, even when I don't believe in myself.  I love that seeing the kind of compassionate person he is, makes me strive to be better."
She stared forward in complete silence; a first for her.

I continued. "I love that he knows all my worst traits and loves me anyway. I adore how he makes me laugh, even when I don't want to.  I enjoy how I can't stay mad at him for more than 30 minutes.  I love how, without effort, we immediately become a team when we're faced with adversity."  
She started to speak, but I raised a finger to my lips and shushed her once more.

"These are the things you should know," I instructed. "I may be the queen of divorce, but they've not gone without lessons.  A relationship can't just be about you. Because you're going to be mighty disappointed if that's the only person you're looking out for.  Be prepared to sacrifice, to disagree, argue, laugh, love, cry, struggle and run an entire gamut of emotions..together.  Be ready to occasionally be disappointed in each other.  We're only human, we're not mind readers, it happens.  Don't EVER assume that what you're thinking is what HE'S thinking.  They're hardwired in a completely different manner.  Don't ever sit and stew about something he's done without telling him you're upset.  Chances are, he doesn't even know he did it.  Women are complicated, irrational, emotional, extraordinary creatures. We do so much more than we give ourselves credit for. But one thing we do NOT do is make it easy to live with us."
I looked at her and could tell some of her 'fight' had dissipated but not all.
"KNOW what it is about him that you love and appreciate it every day.  Remind him what you love because whether he admits it or not, he needs to hear it.  And if you ever feel you need to do something different to 'hang on' to a man, then it's time to let him go.  No one who truly loves you will have to be convinced to stay.  There will be no other place they'd rather be than by your side."

She stammered, trying to think of a snappy retort, I'm sure.  
"I just know...", she uttered, staring blankly out the window.
I nodded my head, hoping some of what I said had reached her.
"Okay...just think about it and get back to me," I said.

I glanced at my daughter in the back seat.  She'd heard this speech many times and she was smiling.
Hopefully, for her friend, 'just knowing' will be enough.  I want her to be happy, really I do.  I just thought I could make all those years of huge mistakes useful by teaching someone else what I've learned.  
Who knows if females will listen to me? Maybe I'm old fashioned about some things but I don't think repeated mistakes always make you a moron.  Sometimes, they make you an expert.  

Even Thomas Edison said:  Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.

Well said, Mr. Edison. 

Perfect Advice (yeah, right)

Is it just me, or is everyone feeling pushed to run their relationships like a small business?  At at doctor's office yesterday, I casually flipped through one of the magazines and found myself getting slightly miffed at the number of "Do this....to find happiness" articles.  Have we really become that pathetic that we have to resort to taking relationship advice from complete strangers?  Do we really feel we can't trust our own instincts regarding how someone inspires us to feel?
 Now, you'll notice I didn't say how someone MAKES us feel, because the only one who ever MAKES us feel anything is, well..us!  We choose to react and in what manner we react.  Sure, others can inspire certain feelings but that doesn't mean we have to allow it. Our emotions shouldn't control us, it should be us in control of them.
 
 Don't get me wrong, I'm no expert on this.  I'm probably the oldest, slowest student enrolled in the course. My emotions ruled my world for many, many years and we're still battling each other for complete control. But I'm gaining ground, I just know it. Now, I'm going to jump around a bit, so bear with me, okay?
    I've wasted the better part of my life letting other people's actions determine my reaction. I've hidden my emotions, my intelligence, my opinions and even my physicality because I feared how I would be interpreted. I feared being categorized and labeled based on first impressions, or worse, inaccurate ones.  I suppose deep down, my inner 'bleeding heart' always wanted to believe that people were decent enough to see past exterior appearances and find the inner truth. Unfortunately, I was partially wrong. A person is decent and forgiving, PEOPLE are cruel and heartless. A single human-being will exhibit compassion, kindness and understanding; all the best things connected with being more highly evolved. Together, we portray an entirely different animal.  I don't know the science behind 'mob mentality' but I've seen and felt the effects of it. In what appears as a struggle for establishing superiority, a crowd can become critical, hateful and even abusive.  Within the setting of a virtual 'feeding frenzy', groups will single out what they perceive as the weakest individual and descend on them as if they're prey to be consumed.

This isn't breaking news, we KNOW this about ourselves. It's been documented and studied. Articles have been published, lectures given and psychoanalytical babble formed around the phenomena. We KNOW how vindictive, jealous and mean we can be as a whole so why on earth would you trust anyone else's advice on how to run YOUR life? EVEN ME!  First of all, you can't expect to find your perfect match if you don't have a clue who YOU are. Do you know yourself?  Have you really sat down in front of a mirror with a paper and pen or a tape recorder and had a heart-to-heart with yourself about what it is that you want?  How can you take positive steps toward your future if you don't know what you're looking for?  Buy yourself a latte and a blueberry scone and plan some steps to get you where you want to be. Find someone who has what you want and learn from them. Most people love to teach and want to tell their success story to someone willing to listen. Just ask. If they say no, look for someone else to ask.  Some doors will close but  in the process, others will open (and they're usually much nicer doors).

Take a long honest look at yourself. I know there are a lot of people out there who, like me, struggle with self-image. We rarely have a kind word to say to ourselves and when we do, it's usually followed by some grim reminder of a past failure.  We flog ourselves on a regular basis and fight to maintain a sense of self-worth.  We gaze at the happy people and long to become one of them, sometimes taking extreme measures to incorporate them into our life. Yet somehow, if  we're especially challenged, we just worry that our attitude is going to ruin them as time passes. ( I know this from experience.  I married one of the happy people and he just mystifies me. His positive outlook is an enigma I struggle to attain. )

But even his appearance in my life didn't happen until I'd decided that I was okay by myself. As the Anti-christ on how to have a successful marriage, I would NEVER give relationship advice.  I've been married four times and I am my husband's third wife.  We are HARDLY the Siskel & Ebert on how to run a relationship.  But we do agree on a few things.

1.  You have to be comfortable and love who you are before you can expect anyone else to do the same.  I once heard the author Lisa Nichols say that she always tries to remember that she is the first example of how she is to be treated.  In other words, people who are just getting to know you may treat you as you treat yourself.  If you're self-depreciating and cruel to yourself, you may inspire them to act accordingly, thus attracting cruel people into your life.  Abusive men/women don't gravitate towards positive, confident individuals, they single out the insecure, vulnerable people. They want someone who can be controlled and manipulated.  A great sense of self will repel that kind of negativity.

2.  If you want to date/marry/cohabititate with someone who is society's idea of perfection, then you better make sure YOU'RE perfect.  Is someone 'perfect' going to think you're good enough?  So let's settle that right away...NO ONE is perfect. Say it with me and know it's true.  The only thing we all are is human (well, as far as I know...but we can delve into those theories another time).  You can not go into a relationship thinking you're going to change them.  Unless you're in possession of a magic wand or some really potent prescription drugs, you aren't going to modify their behavior.  So if there's something about them that drives you into the arms of Jack Daniels, either dump them and move on or learn to accept it.  Read my lips, you can't change someone who doesn't want to change.


3.  Respect, for yourself and your partner. This one's simple.  My husband and I have known each other for almost thirty years but we've only been married for seven, yet we've learned from past mistakes that without mutual respect, there's not much basis for a relationship.  Personally, we couldn't be two more different people.  He's happy, fun-loving and has a dedicated yet sometimes frustrating work ethic.  He'd have to be in a coma or dead before he'd miss work.  But he possesses such an amazing sense of humor while putting you completely at ease, that everyone is drawn to him.  We lovingly joke that 'everyone loves Max'. But they do!  I, on the other hand, lean more towards the critical and worrisome side of life.  Critical of myself and abilities, I am learning from him to see the other side of things.  I believe in spirituality and quantum physics.  I have casual attitudes towards things like bills and little necessities of life because I almost lost a child to cancer and it forever altered my perception of what's important.  He's very pragmatic and responsible so I'm sure my flighty attitude sometimes makes him crazy.  But the bottom line is he supports my every interest.  Even if he thinks I've gone off the deep end, even if he doesn't understand why I choose a particular path, I always have his emotional/physical support.  Yes, we fight, but unlike some of the arguments I've heard from others', we are never disrespectful to each other.  We don't feel the need to call each other names or spew profanity at each other to get our point across.  No matter how different we are, we always respect those differences.  They are, occasionally, the things that make us function at our best.

The biggest factor that's made us successful without having to rely on questionnaires in Cosmo to pull us through, is trust.  I love and trust him implicitly.  We both used to dig through relationships as quickly as Jenny Craig clients at an all-u-can-eat pizza buffet but found ourselves unsatisfied when we got what we thought we wanted.  The void we tried to fill always remained empty.  It wasn't until I'd ended a marriage and resolved to be alright on my own, that he reappeared back in my life.  I wasn't looking for anyone because I had finally come to accept that I could be successful on my own.  Oddly enough, it was eerily similar to a time when my daughter was on life support and I was fighting for her with everything I had.  There came a moment, among the beeping monitors and her labored breathing and remembering the fight she'd had for two years, that I decided to let her go. Ignoring all my brain waves that screamed 'save her', I chose instead, to heed the small, inner whisper that pleaded, "let her go". I can't explain why but it was shortly after that, her condition began to improve.  Her doctors' were (and still are) stumped as to what happened.  Her condition had been deteriorating for 2 weeks and I'd actually been sent in her room to say goodbye but it was like I'd spoken magic words.  She was out of the Intensive Care Unit and home within 7 days of that moment.  It was almost as if someone/something was just waiting for me to stop fighting and trust in what the future held, because once I did, it completely switched gears. With my love life, when I let go of my fear of loneliness, and accepted my future would be great even if I was single, I was sent my perfect partner.

So beware of the magazines and columns that offer the perfect solution to your relationship problems. Read them if you wish, take a few notes but remember that if you want to find your soul mate, first you have to find your own soul.  Get to know that person inside and learn to love them.  Find out what it is you want and be very specific. You'll be amazed at how having a clearly defined goal attracts exactly what or who you want. Then let go of the 'hows' and work on loving yourself. Realize that the only person who can make you happy is the one wearing your skin. Be a good example when you're showing others how to love you. Be good to yourself and others and everyone else should follow suit. And buy yourself a blueberry scone, really, you'll love it.
Give yourself a hug from me.  End of lecture.  I'll step down from my soapbox now.

FireWalker

If you check out my Twitter profile @VickyAkins, you’ll see this bio:  “@Midliferoadtrip travel, writer and marketing chick. Avid cook & baker, & Fire Walker Extraordinaire.”  I get a lot of questions about that last one.  “Did you really do it?  Is that just a metaphor? What did it feel like? How hot was it?” But my personal favorite is “Why in the hell would you do that?”  My answer is always “Why not?”

My nature does not lean towards the adventurous side.  On the contrary, I consider myself a big wimp.  For example, my husband’s idea of a great time is pitching a tent somewhere in critter infested woodland and roughing it for a few days.  I, on the other hand feel no need to revert back to a lifestyle that our ancestors worked so hard to improve upon.  It seems downright disrespectful to shun all the great modern conveniences they’ve developed just so we can cook over a fire and pee in the woods.  No sir, I intend to show my gratitude by doing my ‘fire cooking over a gas stove or barbeque in my back yard. As for peeing in the woods, I prefer my toilet paper sans the tree sap and moss.  So looking for extreme activities is not normally my cup of tea.

Our invitation to this event was sheer serendipity.  A friend called offering free tickets to a motivational speaker’s conference because I had recently begun a new & unfamiliar career. Not until we were on the plane and I was reading the brochure he’d sent, did I see the ominous paragraph announcing the activity that concluded the evening.  I read it once, then again to be sure, then a third time just to verify I wasn’t delusional.  In my calmest tone, counting on my husband’s usual ‘filter’ when it came to my voice, I said, “Hmmm..at the end of the first night we all walk across hot coals.”  Cringing, I waited for his response. “Cool,” he said without so much as a glance in my direction. Relieved that his ‘wife silencer; was still intact, I relaxed knowing he hadn’t heard a word of it.

When you arrive at the conference, you are given a piece of paper with instructions to write your fears on it and then told to toss it into a fire and let it go.  A nice symbolic gesture, I thought. The next several hours are spent whipping a crowd of thousands into a collective positive emotional frenzy.  Music is blared at concert volume; people are singing, clapping, dancing and hugging strangers. Instructions are given for changing thought processes and expectations. Changing mindsets and expanding possibilities are the topic of the evening. It’s loud and overwhelming but you can’t help but get caught up in the spirit of enthusiasm.  Even my husband was enjoying himself until the instructions came for the fire walk we would all take. My husband’s eyes grew wide with disbelief when he turned to look at me. I could only timidly mutter; “I told you on the plane…” He shook his head as if to say ‘no, I’m not doing it.’  Another few hours went by as we were all mentally prepared. ‘Power words’ and ‘mind over matter’ were discussed.  Holding visuals of walking across cool moss was suggested.  If ever there had been a moment when I doubted my own sanity, it was then.

When the time came we were partnered with a stranger and sent outside where several 12 foot long beds of hot coals waited for us. As we walked out, I noticed that many people stayed behind, choosing not to participate, but my husband stayed next to me, still looking at me like he was unsure. It was after 11 p.m., so the field where this took place was lit up like 9 miniature runways. Both excitement and fear filled the air. Although we were supposed to stay with our unfamiliar partner, somehow in the crowd I lost him and my husband.  Before I knew it, I was herded into a line of 5 other people standing in front of one of the fiery paths.  To my surprise, I really wasn’t frightened, but I think it’s because I was seriously annoyed at having been separated from my husband.  I thought about how this was supposed to be a ‘fresh start for our life’. It was something I’d wanted us to do together to represent the new beginning we’d found in each other after both of us had come from bad marriages.  I was a bit sad to find myself alone in a crowd of thousands but I knew this was a step I had to take even if by myself. 

Within minutes I found myself facing a glowing path of heat laid out twelve feet in front of me. Without having any particular thoughts, I heard someone yell "Go” and off I went.  It seemed only seconds and I was being stopped on the other side and told to wipe my feet.  Amidst the pats on the back from strangers, I looked around for a familiar face, but found none.  My heart was racing and so was my brain. Had I missed it? I hadn’t felt a thing, not an inkling of heat.  Surely I’d strayed off the hot path seconds after my first step. Another conference attendee patted me on the back. “Congratulations!” he said. I just stood there in disbelief, watching others walk the path. Dozens of them, all smiles, hopped easily across the hot coals

When I found Max, he was still pretty wired from his own walk. As we left the conference we shared our stories. The experience was both surreal and exciting yet a little less life changing than it was hyped up to be. The one thing I did take away from it was an intense sense of accomplishment and pride. I did something I never thought possible and it helped me re-evaluate my capabilities.  It also served as a reference for when I’m letting fear of failure get the best of me.  I walked on fire and if I can do that, who knows what other possibilities await in the future.  That’s a great memory to call on.  Besides, now I can forever call myself a “Fire Walker” and that’s a pretty cool title to have.

The Sweet Life: La Dolce Vita

*On a recent Pacific Coast Highway trip with Midlife Road Trip (www.midliferoadtrip.tv) we had the honor of being invited to dinner by the owner of La Dolce Vita; a restaurant rich in Hollywood history. What follows is the experience.



On Santa Monica Boulevard,  a little Italian restaurant sits unassumingly since 1966. While outwardly it’s unremarkable, inside it is the keeper of stories of some of Hollywood's most notorious characters. Restored to it’s original glory during a 7 month hiatus, owner Alessandro Uzielli, clearly passionate about this rare treasure, resurrected the decor and menu that contributed to its previous success.


Walk through those doors and you’ll hear "Welcome home.”

Ruben Castro, La Dolce Vita’s 40 year maitre’d, is a delight from the moment you arrive; greeting you like you’re family. The staff follow his lead, beckoning you to your table, anticipating everything you need before you even know you need it.  Once seated, you can see by the photo’s adorning the walls that it once regularly hosted the likes of Frank Sinatra,  Sammy Davis Jr,  Dean Martin, & Don Rickles, among others.  Sit at one of it’s fourteen tables and you may be sitting in the same chair once occupied by the Reagan’s, Jackie Gleason, Gregory Peck, the Bloomingdale’s, Douglas’s or any U.S.President since the Kennedy administration. Ruben smiled knowingly as he relayed that at our particular booth had once sat Howard Hughes.   

We settled in, soaking up the ambiance and Ruben’s charm, waiting in excited anticipation. We were in “Rat pack” territory and their spirit was evident in every corner including the soothing tones of Sinatra playing in the background.
Courtesy of our host, after a wine was chosen an assortment of appetizers began arriving. The food put us on a cumulative high, as each item got better and better. We were hard pressed to choose a favorite among  the roasted pepper, gorgonzola ravioli, baked clams oreganata, & chopped Italian salad that was presented to us. They were all equally wonderful. The food is an event to be enjoyed, encompassing all of your senses. Like the finest wines, you breathe in the aroma and detect just the right amounts of spices.  The silence was almost spiritual as we found ourselves closing our eyes to experience the first bite, savoring all the flavors. The pride and love put into every morsel is omnipresent in each dish.

As we basked in the afterglow of our dinner, superb wine filled our glasses & disappeared just as quickly.  We lost ourselves in stories of La Dolce Vita's rich Holywood history, told eagerly by Ruben, it's most loyal resident & self appointed caretaker.  He even told us the tale behind the Cadillac Frank Sinatra gave him.  As he speaks, you can see in his eyes and facial expressions, the genuine love he has for those bygone days and all the generations that have since passed through those doors.When asked about the pictures adorning the walls, he lovingly points out in which booth it was taken and if there was a story behind it.

After a phenomenal meal and a sampling of the finest array of desserts we'd ever seen or tasted,  we asked Ruben if we could have our picture taken with him. He quickly ran back into the kitchen, re-emerging with a giant 'Mad Men' poster. "This will be great for the picture, right?", he said laughing.  He is truly a joy to listen to and the experience was only enhanced by his presence. He is as much a part of the La Dolce Vita story as the building itself.


When we finally left, saying our goodbyes to several members of the staff who waved to us as if we were family, I could not help but think of my dad and how much he would’ve loved it there. Like many others from the baby boomer generation, Frank Sinatra, the ‘Rat Pack’ and the era that La Dolce Vita represent, stand out fondly in my memory.  The days felt longer, people seemed friendlier and the worst thing you had to fear was not getting home before your mom called you for dinner.  In an age where nearly everything is available instantaneously, it’s comforting to know there’s still a place like this where you can go and the world slows down, if only for just a little while. You can walk through those doors and be among friends or sit down, share some great wine, food & conversation. If you’re really lucky, maybe Ruben will tell you a story or two.