Attention All Shoppers

Image by Status Frustration via Flickr

Have you ever noticed how the self scanner at the grocery store yells at you?

I use the self scanner line because it’s supposedly faster, but I always feel a little intimidated when I have an “UNIDENTIFIED ITEM IN BAGGING AREA.”

Okay, so I accidentally set my purse down. Do you have to announce it to everyone in the store?

And I get a little miffed when I press ‘okay to pay’ and she shouts “CHECK YOUR BASKET FOR UNSCANNED ITEMS, THEN PRESS ‘OKAY TO PAY’.”

Hey, I’m not a shoplifter! And if I were, I’d shoplift something better than eco toilet paper. And furthermore, I didn’t see the garlic clove stuck in the corner of the basket.

What I fear in this increasing techno-age is that Screamy Scanner Lady will start having opinions. Here’s what I imagine in future grocery store hell.

“Welcome to our store. Please scan your first item. Red leaf lettuce 1.99. Brussels sprouts 3.99. bananas 1.50, APPLE FRITTER, 790 Calories, including 37 g of fat, ! 69 cents, nonfat Greek yogurt 3.99 . . . PLEASE REMOVE UNIDENTIFIED ITEM FROM BAGGING AREA

“That’s better.

“Organic chicken, whole $7.99, coQ-10, $5.99, HERSHEY’S WITH ALMONDS —THE REALLY BIG ONE. $1.99. (Just because it’s on sale doesn’t mean you should eat it.) . . .

“CASHIER TO SELF SCANNER #4 TO REMOVE GIANT CANDY BAR FROM CUSTOMER TOTAL.

“Can you please up your mind Ma’am! . . .

“Skim milk 1.55, diet coke 1.99. DIET COKE? WHO ARE YOU KIDDING! Do you drink that with your Häagen-Dazs™! Don’t think I don’t see you in here just before closing.

“Hey, aren’t you a little old to be acting all menopausal. Okay, so leave, but not just yet . .

“PLEASE CHECK YOUR BASKET, THEN PRESS ‘OKAY TO PAY’

“Ha, ha bitch (or should I call you ‘binge’). You pressed ‘Okay to weigh‘ and look at what you’re standing on!

“THE WOMAN AT SELF-SCANNER #4 WEARING A PURPLE TURTLENECK AND MOM JEANS WEIGHS ONE HUNDRED AND BLANKETY-BLANK POUNDS. WELL ABOVE NORMAL BMI.

“How do you like them apples honey? Which, if you don’t mind my saying, you should be eating more of.”

***************

Sunshine in London remarked about self-check-out in her blog today. She gets credit for inspiring me to bring these thoughts, which I’ve pondered for years, into fruition.

But what about our baby?

Image via Wikipedia

Apparently my most outstanding quality is my complete lack of impact.

Last Saturday night I attended a Chinese New Year’s dinner with about 40 people at a local restaurant. The people responsible for planning the event are part of a group who share and interest in good food and wine and regularly dine out together. I said hello to several I had met a few years ago when I attended a dinner in the company of a member of their group, a man I’d been fixed up with and went out with three times.

Rollie* and I parted ways shortly after meeting and moved on with our separate lives. No heartbreak or recriminations, no particular glaring defects–simply our mutual interests and attraction weren’t strong enough to keep anything going. We never had romantic interest or involvement. That being said, I certainly recall where we went and what we did.

So Saturday evening I was seated at a table with five friends from work and a couple of their husbands when Rollie walked by. I wanted to say hello and I called his name. He came to our table and I said “Hi Rollie, remember me, Elizabeth.” He looked at me, didn’t smile, and said, “Vaguely.”

What does one say to something like that? I said something lame and he left with not so much as a friendly word. I turned to my friends and said, “And people wonder why I don’t date.” They laughed and commented on his lack of social skills.

Then I thought of what I should have said, thus the title of this blog.

In my twenties or thirties, I would have been mortified if this had happened.  Particularly  with my friends witnessing how little I meant to someone, especially someone who clearly wasn’t a chick magnet and didn’t have all that many women to forget.

Apparently I’ve I’ve matured enough that my ego is isn’t threatened by what someone I don’t care about thinks (or doesn’t think) of me. It’s a reassuring realization.

*not his real name

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted. My mother died in November (a Boomer reality) and the months leading up to her death and the time since didn’t leave me with time or energy to write. Now I feel the muse tugging at me again. If there is anyone still listening, please stay tuned.

Workin’ on the chain blog

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This one’s for you Sunshine.

My international blogging friend Sunshine in London recently tagged me to answer the following questions and tag another blogger or two to do the same.  A new sort of chain letter only without a wish coming true.

1. If you could have any superpower, which one would you have and why?

Only one choice? My first thought was time traveling. But that would be time consuming. I barely have time to keep up with today much less other centuries. No, time travel will have to wait until I retire.

Next I considered the ability to fly. I’ve flown in dreams and know exactly how it feels—it feels just like flying! It could be a convenient way to get to work and the hospital where I’m employed has a heliport, so landing wouldn’t be a problem. But if I were flying, I doubt I’d bother to stop off at work. I’d just fly around enjoying new perspectives, land on a few mountain tops and visit some friends in remote areas. Flying, while exhilarating, would interfere with my financial well being. Flying will also have to wait until retirement.

What I settled on is an ability that would really be useful. I would like to create silence. I’ve been aware for some time that one noisy person can break silence, but one silent person cannot stop noise. It seems like a powerful silence should stop noise, but it hasn’t worked for me. And believe me I’ve tried. At church before the service begins, in the library, sometimes at work. I would like to be able to enter a room and have it fill with calm silence. Now that would be useful and peaceful.

2. Who is your style icon?

I wear scrubs to work, which I love because it’s like going to work in my pajamas. Very comfortable. I also try to have a few decent outfits to wear when I’m going someplace more visible than Target.

Until I had to answer this question, I didn’t think I had a style icon, but I realized that I do. In the 60s (I’m a boomer, remember), I was very taken with Jackie Kennedy. But I also liked hippie clothes when they became popular. So I guess what I ideally aim for is what Jackie Kennedy would wear if she were Janis Joplin.. Elegant but comfortable and flowing. With boots.

3. What is your favorite quote?

“Argue for your limitations and sure enough they’re yours.” Richard Bach, Illusions

“Dont expect applause.” Buddhist lojong teaching in Start Where Your Are by Pema Chodron

What is the best compliment you’ve ever received?

Maybe not the best, and maybe not even a compliment, but funny and impactful.

“But I’m a happily married couple!” blurted my ex-husband upon hearing I thought our marriage had problems.

I no longer wait ten years speak up for myself.

5. What playlist/cd is in your CD player/iPod right now?

Remember, I like silence. But today, John Lennon.

6. Are you a night owl or a morning person?

Morning, morning, morning! I tend to fall asleep by 9pm.

7. Do you prefer dogs or cats?

I like dogs but I love cats.

I have two rescue cats. Fanny and Van Go.

Fanny is a long-haired calico who, with her black mask, looks as if her father was a raccoon. She is both timid and regal and she’s very talkative.

Van Go is a short-haired gray cat, like a Russian Blue.

He is a man of few words who knows what he wants and goes after it. Both are much loved.

8. What is the meaning behind your blog name?

Well, I think my choice of blogger name is obvious. What I can share is my choice of header image. For those of you who don’t know the significance of a ’64 Mustang grill, that was the year that cars changed in looks and there was nothing cooler than a Mustang. My mother was a single mom and in my senior year in high school, she was going to buy a new car to replace our 1959 Rambler station wagon, one of the most uncool cars ever. When she told me she was going to buy a Ford Galaxy, I burst into tears and told her she was ruining an opportunity to get a Mustang so we could finally be cool. This was very unlike me and I think we were both surprised by my vehemence and passion. Unlike her, she did as I asked and purchased a beautiful deep turquoise 1964 Mustang. The first night we owned  it, I drove it to McDonalds (47cents for a three-course meal—hamburger, fries and a drink) to show off. My experience that night met all my expectations–a rarity in high school.

You’re it, Brix!

Planet Brix

Sixty-three is the new ninety

Image by George Eastman House via Flickr

Nothing says “old” like being called spry.

“We were talking about you the other day,” remarked a younger colleague of mine at work, “and we want to be as spry as you are when we’re your age.” Mind you, I’m 63. I didn’t know whether I should thank her or hit her over the head with my walker.

I thought you had to be 90 or so to be spry! And I’m probably insulting some ninety-year-old somewhere just by making that comment. Have you noticed how younger people always assume anybody older is somehow different? It’s a form of hidden ageism and I’m sure we all practice it.

In my head, I’m somewhere in my thirties to forties. I’m certainly wiser and less impulsive than I was then, but many of my attitudes and opinions are basically the same. Also, I became wiser precisely because of my age and experience.  Don’t get too excited–I’m not going to entertain you in this post on just how I got my wisdom. Suffice it to say that good judgment is often a consequence of bad judgment.

I’m sure many of you have been the recipient of ageist prejudice, but it’s a rude awakening when you first encounter it. When I was 46 and new in Dallas, a raffle was held at the hospital where I worked for a “Dinner date with a Dreamboat.” Several of the male residents volunteered to be the Dreamboat and tickets sold rapidly. It sounded like fun and I bought a few tickets myself. I was out of town for the drawing but when one of my tickets was drawn in my absence, the person in charge decided that I would rather have a rapidly donated, used, 13” B&W television set! To make the incident even more disheartening, the television didn’t work.

It was a gradual and sometimes painful emotional process to become comfortable with the invisibility, unconscious exclusion, and stereotyping that comes with age. These days, I can laugh at such remarks as, “you’re on Facebook!” or “my grandmother can’t program her phone either,” or “you’re too old to see this (referring to something sexual online).”  As if!

The most jolting was a few years ago when I went to Target to purchase some Pampers for a friend. I asked a salesperson where the diapers were. She looked at me and hesitated, then said, “For . . .  . a baby?”

None of these remarks was intentionally hurtful or insulting. In fact, such comments reveal far more about the speaker and our culture than they do about the recipient. We are a culture where youth and beauty are idolized. Experiences, not to be confused with experience, are valued. But younger people beware, you too will grow older.

In the meantime when you’re at work sharing stories with your coworkers and assuming people my age aren’t a part of your world, I won’t even notice you’re excluding me. I’ll be writing, gardening, reading, going to movies, hiking, biking, traveling and having fun with my other spry friends.

I’ll be retired.

Teleshrink

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The other day, I was feeling kind of low and decided perhaps I should talk to a therapist, so I called the local County Mental Health for a referral. The phone was answered by a recorded soothing female voice.

Sit down and relax. Take a deep breath . . . . There now. Please press the number on your telephone that corresponds to the information you seek.

If you are calling about yourself, press 1.

If you are calling about your spouse or partner, press 2.

If you’re GBLT (not that there’s anything wrong with that), press 3.”

Raising one eyebrow, I pressed 1.

“If you are calling about relationship problems, press 1.

If you are calling about trouble with your boss, press 2.

If you are calling about depression, press 3.

If you are calling about addiction to illegal substances, press 4.

If you are calling about the futility of life, press 5.

If you are calling about feeling of paranoia, look behind you! . . . . Ha, ha, just kidding. Press 6.

If you are calling about that empty feeling, press 7.

If you are calling about two or more of the above, press 8, unless it includes illegal substances, then press 9.

If you want this message to repeat, press 0.”

Unsure of how I felt now, I pressed 7.

If you are the first-born child, press 1.

If you are the middle child, press 2.

If you are the baby, press 3.

I pressed 1.

If you are an Aries male, press 1.

If you are an Aries female, press 2.

If you are a Taurus male .  .  .  .

All right already! I pressed 2.

If you have trouble sleeping, press 1.

If you feel shame because you double-dip when nobody’s looking, press 2.

If you become easily irritated, press 3.

I pounded on 3.

“You don’t have to get nasty .  .  .  .  If you attended Catholic school, press 1.

If your mother never hung your artwork on the refrigerator, press 2.

If you were never allowed to have a dog, press 3.”

Oh, come on!

If you want to speak to a therapist personally, press 4.”

At last!   4.

If you have found this recording to be meaningful, press 1.

If you have found this recording annoying, press 2.

TWO!!! A clicking sound was followed by a soothing male voice.

“Your personal computer diagnosis finds you to be experiencing feelings of alienation, anger and powerlessness. We suggest you seek help from an actual person.”

If you wish to be referred to a woman, press 1.

IF you wish to be referred to a man .  .  . Click .  .  .  .  Click .  .  .

I’m sorry, your 50 minutes with Teleshrink are up. We feel that this session has been very productive. Please call back at this time next week for your next session. The $150 you owe Teleshrink will be conveniently added to your phone bill. We expect prompt payment. Thank you.”

I have skin like a teenager

Image by juggzy_malone via Flickr

Sometime during the years between menopause and this morning my skin took on a life of her own.

During my 50s, I grew accustomed to the mirror and learned not to jump when my mother stared back. I eventually accepted that those bags under my eyes weren’t due to lack of sleep. Today I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about something more profound.

Without me really noticing day to day, my relationship with my skin changed.  Like an agreeable twelve-year-old turning thirteen, she suddenly rejected my values and became insolent and overly sensitive. She no longer cared for my preferences. She disdained my advice and guidance. The ultimate disrespect came when she outgrew me. Literally! Unlike my jeans, she’s now too big.

She also decided to become creative and has taken to wearing a sort of colorful paisley rather than the pale ivory we enjoyed together for years.  I never cared for paisley during The 60s and I like it less in my 60s. My best features are now obscured by this mutinous renegade.

Most of the time this doesn’t matter because women my age are generally invisible, which can come in handy once you get used to the idea.  But there are times I might be noticed and you may wonder, esteemed reader, how a woman past a certain age copes with such times.

Fall and Winter are not a problem. It’s the warmer weather that requires vigilance and adaptation. To begin with décolletage has been replaced with decoupage. Layering is made for us. The cute skimpy little top now covers a spandex high-necked skimmer. Capris (menopausal shorts as I call them) are just the ticket. And those filmy jackety things from Coldwater Creek do wonders for tired triceps. You just have to hope that the sweat from being too warm will provide an attractive sheen rather than a drippy mess.

For evening wear, you can pick up a lot of tips watching the Academy Awards. See what Meryl Streep and Sofia Loren are wearing. You’ll note sleeves and gossamer things placed in strategic locations. I don’t know what they do for shoes, but shoes deserve their own post. Please return again for “I miss you FMP”

Bathing suits? What can I say? Your therapist would suggest that you just accept yourself as you are and don’t deny yourself things you enjoy. Uh-huh. Here are the guidelines:

1. When you’re invited to something that requires a bathing suit, unless everyone else is your age or older, just don’t go.
2. If you really want to go and it’s during the day, claim sun sensitivity, which of course is true, keep those capris on and wear a cute hat (not one of those damn red ones!)
3. If you really want to swim, wear a coverup that fastens with Velcro around the chest. Easy to take off, fast to put on. Take it off a just as you jump in. Swim until darkness falls, then emerge and reclaim your coverup.
4. If it’s just family or your girlfriends, these guidelines don’t apply. (In this case, however, your gay male friends don’t count as girlfriends—they will judge.)

Single? At our age, it’s unlikely we’re dating anyway, but if that’s a potential, I don’t need illuminate the threats other than the lights being on. A long, black silk robe and a bunch of candles are useful .  But there’s a much easier way to alleviate this problem. On the off chance someone offers to fix you up on a blind date, just require that he’s actually blind.

Joking aside, I’ll have to accept that, like grown children who never leave home, my teenager will continue to bite the hand that feeds her as we share space forever. I suppose as I age, however, other insulting infirmities will take precedence and my skin will become a non issue.

Until that time, I’m grateful for capris.

The dearth of noncommittal greeting cards

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You’d be surprised by how few greeting cards just leave it at “Happy Father’s Day.”

Father’s Day was always a predicament when my dad was alive. Unfortunately for both greeting card writers and me, after my early childhood my father was no longer around. He wasn’t my mentor. He didn’t make time for me. He wasn’t there for me when I needed him. He couldn’t be relied upon. He wasn’t my best friend. He didn’t give his family the love they needed.

Although we maintained a relationship and I tried idealize him, I could never find a card that expressed, “Contrary to the reality of the situation, I’d really like it if you actually were my hero.” “You were a great dad for my first seven years.” “Despite everything, I still want to wish you a Happy Father’s Day.”

Mine, like many others, was a dysfunctional family. You can find dysfunctional family cards on the Internet, but they’re too blatant. “You put the FUN in dysfunctional” isn’t my idea of subtle or suitably (pseudobly?) acceptable and besides it wasn’t all that much fun.

I need greeting cards for the dysfunctional-family-in-denial. I’m looking for the card that makes the recipient feel as if s/he is receiving a conventional card, but in a court of law, you could defend that you didn’t say what they thought you meant.

I know I’m not alone in this predicament. There are thousands, perhaps millions, of us who get a knot in our stomach as Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day or anniversaries approach. The problem has has been compounded as more “Days “are foisted on the public. Now, there is Bosses Day on October 15 and Employee Appreciation Day on the first Friday in March. In Arizona of all places American Family Day, an official state holiday, is celebrated on the first Sunday in August. I can’t help but wonder if an ID is required when buying a card to celebrate that holiday? But I digress.

As the dreaded day approaches, you procrastinate as long as you can and then go to the store at the last minute only to discover that all the remotely applicable greetings have been snapped up by those less in denial. All that remain are are the sickeningly maudlin and the flagrant prevarications. Then you have to go to Whole Foods and buy an attractive blank card and compose something you can live with. That takes a lot of time and energy.

What I propose is the Noncommittal Card Company. NCC cards will be beautiful and expensive, printed on good card stock with lovely, but elusive, artwork or photographs appropriate to the occasion, The company slogan will be “When you still care enough to send anything at all.”

Here’s a sample of NCC greetings:

“Mom, On this special day, I remember the ways, that you are a mother, unlike any other. Happy Mother’s Day”

“To my husband, We’ve been together 20 years, Our life has brought me smiles and tears. Happy Anniversary”

“Dad, Credit should go where credit is due, My self-reliance is due to you. Happy Father’s Day.”

The last one is kind of a stumper.  I’ll just stick with “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Thank you Mr. Peepers

Image via CrunchBase

This blog is the product of an e-lationship gone bad.

Following a month of emails trying to get to know an old acquaintance who contacted me on Facebook, I became frustrated with the difficulty in getting a conversation going.  You know, the kind of conversation where both parties take part.  The kind where one party makes a remark or reveals something personal and the other party responds to what has been said or reveals something back.  The kind you have with your girlfriends and gay men.  That kind of conversation.

Our exchange was fun,  a witty repartee full of one liners, non sequiturs and various monikers.  It was so fun, in fact, and I was so taken that somebody was interested in getting to know me, that I failed to realize for a time that he didn’t really seem interested in much of what I had to say about myself.   He didn’t acknowledge several important personal things I shared and didn’t respond to many of the ideas I discussed.

After clarifying a  remark I thought he might have misunderstood, I mused on the potential pitfalls and misconceptions posed by email communication. His response to my thoughts felt like a one-sentence reprimand. I’d forgotten how it can be like pulling teeth trying to converse with some straight men of my generation.  How can one explain anything when clarifications aren’t welcomed?

He later explained that the intent of his remark wasn’t to reprimand me, but rather to assure that “clarification from you isn’t necessary.”  The irony didn’t negate my irritation.

Although I pared down the lengthy response-in-my-head to what I thought was a balanced expression of the essence of the issue,  I made the mistake of attempting to close my email with our customary humor.

My advice to you: Don’t try to be funny when you’re angry.  It comes out sarcastic and mean-spirited.  Now he thinks I’m deranged.

What I left out of the essence-of-the-issue email was, “If I’m going to put all this time and energy into what seems to be a monologue, I’ll write a blog.”

This brings me to you, esteemed reader.  You may also think I’m deranged, but at least I’m putting my monologues where they belong.  If you found anything of interest or shared experience in these musings please come and visit again.

Future random thoughts include

Just when I finally became interesting, nobody’s interested

How to cheat on your diet and not get caught

The dearth of noncommittal greeting cards