Susan Mary Malone's Blog: Happiness is a Story, page 29

THANK YOU FOR YOUR KINDNESS

I have the very best friends on the planet.  Truly—the absolute world champions!  How blessed I am to have a handful of very close women, whose love for me is never in doubt.   And when I need them, do they ever come through!

I’m pretty good at staying on track, working my spiritual/psychological program and facing whatever comes.  I bet you are too.  But you know how sometimes the stressors just seem sustained?  And when that happens, there’s never just one. Rather, they pile on like rats to cheese bait and always avoid the trap.  For weeks to months, the horizon always seems further down the road.

 

It’s been one of those kinda times.  Know what I mean?  When work has been a mountain (which is a good thing!), family issues abounded (which isn’t!) and beautiful Siren can’t seem to shake her infection—six weeks in (which if I’m not careful can send me over a cliff).

 

But the Source of this Universe always has the antidote.  And over the holiday weekend, that came in the blessed form of my fabulous friends.

 

I have to laugh too—sometimes it takes a village.  For Thanksgiving Day, my wonderful friends Charlotte and Sara brought much joy and laughter.  And ah, did we just feast!  Last year I cooked for ten. This one, we were small in number but huge in heart.  Sometimes an intimate gathering is just the ticket.

 

Friday I spent with my dog friends, one of whom, Cheri, always brings a calmness to my soul, just by her very presence.  A bigger group, we again laughed and supped and drank in puppy breath—the greatest elixir on the planet.

 

And then Saturday was filled with my sister-friend Suzanne, amidst the chaos of kids, two-legged and four.  But through it all we carved out much time to visit just the two of us.  She always brings me peace.

 

By Sunday, I was feeling human again.  Ah!  Guess God figured I needed the Triple Threat, one with the one-two punch! 

 

But now, as the stressors may wend up the road toward me again, I can face them with joy and laughter, peace and calm.

 

What more could a girl ask for?

 

As C.S. Lewis said, “Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives.”

 

Hm.  I would amend that.  I’m fairly sure it’s 99/100ths.  Yep, so much means enormous amounts to us.  Otherwise, those stressors wouldn’t matter!  But the concept of not having close friends never gels in my head, much less my heart or soul.  How on earth do folks live without them?

So, to my dear friends, thanks for your patience.  Thank you for your understanding.  Thank you for your perpetual kindness, for being present in the tough times.  And mostly, thank you for your love.  It sustains me.

 

How do your friends save you?

 

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ONE GRAPESTOMP AND TWO BOTTLES OF LIGHTCATCHER CHARDONNAY

Oh, I tell ya, having to do all this research for my new novel, set in a Texas vineyard, is just so tough.  But as they say, somebody’s gotta do it, and I volunteered me!

So, I’m doing lots of things, getting hands-on experience in every way I can think of.  And I’ve loved every second of it.  From picking wine grapes to searching vintners’ expertise (they’ve all been so willing and helpful!) to pruning vines, to this event that was truly just a hoot.

 

The Lightcatcher Winery, nestled away in the woods not far from Ft. Worth, is an especial favorite of mine.  I’ve dined at their bistro, sipping their wonderful wines many times.  Which reminds me—I need to schedule a day there soon with friends!  But again, I digress.

 

Caris, the winemaker, is quite gifted in her artistry.  She’s produced award-winning wines (I’m especially fond of the Remuda Red, a delicious blend of Cabernet and Merlot), and the cuisine there is always just marvelous.

 

As with all businesses, from writing books to selling pastries, the artist/entrepreneur must find ways to promote their products, and wineries are no exception.  In addition to having tasting rooms, sometimes cafes, etc., pretty much all wineries in Texas have events.  Since I’m not much of an event person (get my hands picking, pruning, measuring into the must, etc., and I’m a happy camper), I hadn’t attended those.  But figured hey, every oenophile needs to go to at least one grape stomp, no?  And at Caris’s place, it was sure to entertain.

 

OMG—all these people dressed up like Lucy!  I mean, how do you get that many folks out there acting a fool in their tied-up skirts and bandana-capped heads, stomping through big vats of purple grapes, juice splashing everywhere and laughter filling the patio?

 

My friends and I didn’t dress up, sadly.  Next year I surely will!  But of course that didn’t diminish our laughter and fun.

 

And, ah hum, perhaps more than two bottles of their chard was consumed.  Well, it was a really hot afternoon (summer in Texas, you know), and there were several of us.   And they had a great jazz band (they often do), and the music, the grape stomping, the laughter, the food (scrumptious cheese, fruit, and cracker plate!), well, all that helps more wine to flow.  And of course, with it, more of our words.

 

As Robert Louis Stephenson said, “Wine is bottled poetry.”

 

Couldn’t have possibly said it better myself.   Although my main character in the new novel is prone to these sentiments, finding bursting taste sensations and starshine in sips of pinot noir.  When she’s not fending off greedy relatives trying to steal her vineyard, or stashing an abused runaway in her cellar.  All while testing brix and sugar in grapes, those near-ready to burst on the vine, awaiting picking time.

 

But then again, I digress!   It’s a habit of mine.

 

Next year at the grape stomp though, I’ll be prepared.  As Lucy.   I’ve got my eye on the prize!

 

How do you celebrate wine?

 

 

 

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4 WAYS TO EASE YOUR MIND

Sometimes stress gets the better of us (especially this time of year, with the holidays flying in fast!). We all at some point get anxious or sad or mad or any number of fear-based emotions. And then finding peace and happiness can be a trick for us all.

Even the big hubba-bubba spiritual gurus go through this. Which always makes me feel better. Not that they’re feeling bad, but just to know they’re flesh and blood like the rest of us. That they too sometimes question how to find peace of mind.

 

I so admire the Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh. His sweet spirit comes through with every step taken, every word uttered, every smile from his eyes and lips. But I remember a story where he was speaking at a church about peace, of a need that lay unmet, and he got heckled severely and finally walked off the stage. When asked why he did so he said anger arose in him. And he couldn’t be effective when angry.

 

That comforted me on so many levels. And I think of that now when I’m ready to snap, and most of the time I can walk away. Okay, a lot of the time. LOL.

 

Of course we all know ways by this point to calm ourselves of whatever emotion is getting the better of us. Deep breathing is always the first step. Walking away is another—whether literally or figuratively. But some circumstances require more than that.

 

So, what’s a conscious person to do? Four things:

1. Meditate. I know it sounds corny, but it’s the sure-fire fix for me. And it’s not just the breathing, which helps. And not just the beginning with prayer, whether to a deity or just repeating a peaceful thought. Although that helps. But the connection that goes from right brain to left and back again is strengthened through meditation. And that makes you calmer.

2. Call Somebody. If the first things don’t do the trick, call someone close and vent. Say it out loud. Get it off the old chest. I have very close friends I can do that with—and they with me—and sharing makes it easier. This is a tenant in 12-Step Groups and there’s a reason for that—it works.

3. Scream at the sky. WARNING: This must be done when no one will hear you and get hurt!

There’s an old spiritual text that I just love called Right Use of Will. It’s tough to follow (exacting-wise) and takes a strong warrior’s heart to practice. But man, does it refashion your backbone and help you to forge a better path. But anyway, a major premise is to get your anger out. Yell and scream and tell god or the trees how angry (insert emotion) you are and how right you are to feel this way. Yada, yada, yada. The only caveat is to do this without doing harm to yourself or anyone else. Funny thing too, it’s catharctic. When finished you feel washed out but cleansed.

4. Wine. When done with everything else, a nice glass of Pinot at the end of the day is delicious, relaxing, and joins you with Bacchus in a celebration of how good you did by letting all that loose. Of course, I think you should have a good glass of whatever you like at the end of the day anyway. And have I told you about this wonderful Merlot/Syrah I found at the Red Caboose Winery . . . .

 

Woops! There I go again, off track and on the wine path!

 

And here’s one of the reasons I love, Thich Nhat Hanh, as he encapsulates this so poetically:

“Fear keeps us focused on the past or worried about the future. If we can acknowledge our fear, we can realize that right now we are okay. Right now, today, we are still alive, and our bodies are working marvelously. Our eyes can still see the beautiful sky. Our ears can still hear the voices of our loved ones.”

 

How do you ease your mind?

 

 

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BANNING BOOKS, SO MISGUIDED THAT IT BOOGLES . . .

This isn’t a new thing.  Books have been (insanely) banned for centuries, for a host of reasons.  We sort of laugh about it in publishing, knowing that a banned book will be read by gazillions of folks because of it.

Highland Park High School, in Dallas Texas, has taken this to true insanity. Books now needing permission slips from parents include:  The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain, The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne and A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway.  These are for 11th-grade Advanced Placement English students, who elect to take the college-level course.  This resulted from parents deeming books too mature for teens.

 

Seriously?  They offended parents’ sensibilities, in one way or another, and adults literally had one book jerked while the students were reading it—which meant the teachers couldn’t discuss the themes in their classrooms. 

 

The debate grew so heated that in September, the superintendent suspended seven books, then reversed the decision after heated backlash.

 

And while I do rejoice that the parents at least knew what their kids were reading, and were involved, and parents should have a say in what their kids are taught, this banned list is so misguided that it boggles the mind.  Especially one. 

 

The Art of Racing in the Rain?!?!  A book about what it means to follow your dreams, about true compassion and love.  About fighting for those you love, against astronomical odds.  Truly, about the art of living. 

 

And those same kids are watching The Real Housewives of Nekkid City, the characters drunk half the time, boobs hanging out, cursing like sailors, without a moral fiber between them.  Don’t tell me kids aren’t—I hear them talking about it.

 

When my nieces were teenagers, I was a lifeline for them.  They could tell me anything—and did. Dear God, what I learned.  As my niece’s friend said, “We can talk to you, Aunt Sue, ‘cause you’re not really an adult.”  I took that as high praise then, and still do.  Because by being able to tell me anything, we got through some fairly perilous times.

 

The teenage passage is a tumultuous one, filled with demons and ogres at the gates.  It’s complicated, although adults often laugh that off.  But the journey is fraught with perils, with the potential of lifetime mistakes at every curve.  Many of which can produce lasting results of ruin.  Yep, sounds a bit purple.  But true.  And it never ceases to amaze me how adults get teenage amnesia, burying so deeply their own troubles from the time, believing their own kids are skating through.

 

No one skates through. 

 

One thing I know for true is that old saying: “Your children are leading very different lives from the ones you think they are.”  Yeah, buddy.  Even the goodiest two-shoes of the bunch is well aware of what’s going on, and dealing with it.  So let’s jerk works of wonderful literature from them and replace it with platitudes and BS.

 

A sophomore from Highland Park High School said it best, in an NPR interview: “We’re dealing with so much more than what’s in these books.”  Out of the mouths of babes.

 

Far Beit that we challenge them with thought, dissecting moral issues, presenting them with quandaries from which they grow. Oh, no.  Instead feed them television pablum—and worse.

 

So today, get a banned book for your teenager to read.  Read it as she does.  Talk about it.  Listen to her thoughts about what happens, choices made, moral decisions.  You just might learn something about what’s actually going on in her world.

 

But don’t get too excited about that.  She’ll still keep her secrets.  And hopefully, she has an old Aunt Sue to tell them to . . .

 

How do you get your kids to talk about issues?

 

 

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THE JOY IS IN THE WRITING

Almost all writers do other gainful employment to put food on their tables. It’s just a fact of this business, along with most of the arts. The old statistic was that 3% of published authors (meaning published by reputable houses) made their living writing. The other 97% had another job via which they ate.

And this was before the e-book explosion. I don’t know the statistic now, but it is less.

 

And now too it’s funny—writers spend as much time marketing their work as in creating it. That’s always been somewhat the case, but more true today than ever before.

 

So why the heck do we do all of this? What insane bug bit us long ago, injecting a creeping poison to snake its way through the bloodstream, keeping us up at night? Not to mention taking time away from family, friends, Labradors (okay, so mine are all around my feet as I write this. But insert any other hobby)? Why do we do the things we do?

 

We love to write. The play’s the thing, as the Bard would say. Or the novel, or short story, or memoir, or whatever it is one writes.

 

Sometimes my life gets out of kilter. That’s when I’m focused almost solely on the business of editing other people’s work (which I love) as the workload gets so backed up I just stop and do only that. I feel responsible to my writers. They’ve trusted me with their babies and are anxious to get them back. I know exactly what that feels like, so empathy causes me to stop my own and work on theirs.

 

Which is all well and good. IF that’s only for a time. Because if too much time passes before I get back to my stories, I get stopped up like a clogged drain. Dry. Irritable. Snappy. And trust me—the last thing any writer wants is his editor feeling that way!

 

No—you want your editor happy and satisfied. Blissful.

 

And the joy is in the writing.

 

It’s kinda tough to explain to those who aren’t infected with this virus. Probably like explaining how it felt to have Ebola to the rest of us. There just aren’t the right words (even for wordsmiths) to describe the feelings.

 

Writers just know they need to write like they need air.

 

I wrote this morning—well. I’m back into the new novel, transported every morning to a hot summer day in the middle of a Texas vineyard, as all sorts of mayhem arises. The characters keep taking me down roads I didn’t know existed, facing odds that would terrify the real me. But off we go, running against the wind, the very breath of the gods filling our sails. Exhilarating. Purposeful. Bringing the meaning of the ancient myths to bear.

 

Ah. There is nothing like it. Nothing in the known world, anyway. At least for me.

 

As the poet Rainer Maria Rilke said: “Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depth of your heart; confess to yourself you would have to die if you were forbidden to write.”

As would many of us.

 

Why do you write?

 

 

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STUMBLING ON HAPPINESS

Okay, now, this really tweaked me. Researchers from Harvard Medical School and the University of California, San Diego, in a study with the British Medical Journal, found that if you’re happy, thank your friends and family network!

The study showed that happiness occurs in a collective group, and then spreads through social networks like a virus. The good kind of virus. Seriously. It actually spreads.

 

The happiness of 5,000 individuals was studied over twenty years, and researchers found that when an individual is happy, the network effect is measurable up to three degrees. In other words, if you’re happy, that causes a chain reaction to not only your friends, but to their friends’ friends, and their friends’ friends’ friends. And this happiness stays around for a year!

 

Wow!

 

“We’ve found that your emotional state may depend on the emotional experiences of people you don’t even know, who are to three degrees removed from you,” said Harvard Medical School Professor Nicholas Christakis.  He along with James Fowler from the University of California, San Diego co-authored the study. “And the effect isn’t just fleeting.”

 

I mean, how cool is that?

 

They did find the closer in proximity you are, the stronger the effect. Which makes sense. But that it happened no matter where folks were.

 

I’ve believed for a long time in the quantum-physics idea that all life is energy fields. And while this study didn’t say that (and the researchers might cringe from my deduction!), and I know there’s a sociological phenomenon going on here, still.

 

But the main thing is, my goodness. We truly are connected, be it through a spiritual belief, an energy field, or sharing a cup of coffee with the neighbor next door. And how we feel, spreads. The idea that I can cause you to be happy by being so myself just warms my soul.

 

Thank goodness they did find that feeling sad didn’t spread the same way! One thing I know for true is that when a friend is depressed or sad, I can respond with compassion, and that helps. But the essence of that is also that no matter what horrors occur in the world to people I know or don’t, my feeling bad doesn’t help the situation one whit. In other words, I cannot possibly feel bad enough to make them feel better.

 

But, I can now feel good enough to make them feel better. Amazing!

 

And it gives new meaning to the sentiments of Behavioral Science Academic and author Steve Maraboli:

“Holding a grudge & harboring anger/resentment is poison to the soul. Get even with people… but not those who have hurt us, forget them, instead get even with those who have helped us.”

 

By being happy ourselves, and passing it on.

 

So, next time you become unexpectedly happy, check with your friends. LOL. You just may have stumbled onto happiness via your network. And what a great lesson as well. When we become happy and joyous, we help our friends. And their friends and . . .

 

How will you pass it on?

 

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NIGHT DREAMS AND MYTHS

Dreamtime figures into so much of my fiction. I just love dreams, don’t you? I love playing them back and figuring them out and seeing what they’re trying to tell me. I Just Came Here to Dance opens each chapter with a night dream of the main character, each building upon the last until the end.

Because they’re always trying to tell me something. When I don’t get it, they recur and recur and recur, sometimes getting more frightful until I stop and pay attention.

 

As I was starting my writing career, lo all those years ago, I began having a dream that I was 5-meter tower diving. Now, I wasn’t a diver in real life, but a swimmer. Never could even do a somersault. But there I would find myself, atop the tower, in the finals of the Nationals or Olympics. In the finals!

 

With the wind whipping and the water oh-so-far down below, there I stood. And about that time I remembered I couldn’t dive. Pure terror!

 

Now, it didn’t take Freud to decipher that one. Visceral fear of what I was taking on. Although apparently I had the talents, I didn’t know I had them.

 

Unfortunately for me, this dream persisted it seemed for decades.

 

Because you know it’s funny, when you remember and write down your dreams, and associate the symbols to what means something to you, you start to see what experiences are significant for you, and those you weren’t paying attention to. And then the next dream will come along, with another piece.

 

Carl Jung, the noted psychologist, spoke of two orders of dreams—the personal ones and the mythic. You interpret the personal dream as above, but once in a while a dream comes along that is pure myth—it carries the mythic theme, which can help us all.

 

I somewhat doubt Dr. Jung would categorize this dream he had as mythic, but I would. He dreamt once that he was trudging in total darkness, into a brutal wind, exhausted and disheartened. He carried a candle in one hand, protecting the flame with the other from being extinguished. Now, this was a time in his life when his work was going poorly, he was fighting an uphill battle, spent to the bone.

 

And when he awakened he knew the meaning. He was to protect the internal/eternal flame as he trudged on. I.e., continue onward in the face of all odds, protecting the flame. Which he did. And of course we know what happened after that—his breakthrough works.

 

That dream was his own but it has always comforted me in dark times. I always remember it, am soothed by its meaning; it helps me to soldier on, as keeper of the flame.

 

As Joseph Campbell said, “. . . a dream is a personal experience of that deep, dark ground that is the support of our conscious lives, and a myth is the society’s dream. . . . If your private myth, your dream, happens to coincide with that of the society, you are in accord with your group. If it isn’t, you’ve got an adventure in the dark forest ahead of you.”

 

I do believe Jung’s was both. But first he had to traverse that dark forest.

 

Oh, and my diving dream? Decades after it began, I had it again. Only this time, as I stood atop that wind-blown tower, diving in the Olympic finals, I knew I had this. I had the skills, the experience, the preparation. Calmly and quietly, I raised my arms to dive . . .

 

What do your dreams tell you?

 

 

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APPRECIATE LIFE AND OTHER BS

You know, some days are just annoying. And some, kinda awful. And sometimes, rotty stuff lasts for more than a day or fourteen . . .

Despite best efforts, now and then (hopefully only now and then!) a sack of manure gets dropped on your doorstep.  Happens to us all.  And even in the midst of it when we know this too will pass, and we work all of our spiritual tools, well, at times you just want to take a gun and blast something.

 

Okay, so that may be a bit harsh.  But I’m in a midst of an “issue,” as my dear friend and obedience trainer Denise Tatro says.  Too bad this one isn’t just a dog-training one!

 

Denise, though, never lets life get her down.  And she’s been through it.  I’ve known her since I was twelve, and she’s dealt with a disability all her life (although you’d never know it), as well as all the “normal” crap life throws at you, and the not so normal, such as losing a sister two years ago.

 

But you better not complain to her.  Denise’s way is to buck up and go on.  She always inspires me—and everyone else within her sphere.

 

It’s in the “bucking up and going on,” however, where the devil resides in the details.

 

The bible says to be grateful in all things—even the seemingly not-so-good ones.  And while everything is going swimmingly, isn’t that just so easy to see and do?  But when that proverbial sack of sh$%t lands on your doorstep . . .

 

So, today I focus on being grateful for what I have.  I appreciate life—in all its happiness and woes.  I mean, I’m healthy.  My gaggle of Labradors is healthy.  I wrote well this morning on the new novel.  Right now, in this second, I’m happy.  And if I can just keep focused on this moment . . .

 

And that’s the ticket, no?  To find peace and happiness no matter the circumstances.  As Miester Eckhart said, “If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.”

 

At obedience class Denise had us all dress up like idiots, and we spent the evening laughing.  If anything gets me out of my frump, it’s acting a fool with a bunch of my friends.  How seriously can you take life then?  I saw dogs dressed up as bumblebees and flying monkeys and Superman.  Just the thought of it makes me smile.

 

What I hate about this recent “issue” is that it’s about a person causing me grief, not a thing.  A person I love.  And that strikes at the core of us.

 

Don’t’cha just love how I went right back to the problem?  After I’d been focusing so well on gratitude and appreciation.  LOL.  And that’s how it goes for me, the back and forth.

 

Today I’m also grateful for beautiful fall weather, for all the folks who bring peace into my life.  And oh, yep, the Labradors swirling at my feet J

 

And I know, truly know, that obstacles bring with them the seeds of good.  As author and retired neurosurgeon Ben Carson said:

“Success is determined not by whether or not you face obstacles, but by your reaction to them. And if you look at these obstacles as a containing fence, they become your excuse for failure. If you look at them as a hurdle, each one strengthens you for the next.”

 

How do you appreciate life?

 

 

 

 

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4 THINGS TO SPREAD JOY: The Labrador Way

Don’t you just love doing so?  When you know that something you did causes someone to smile, caused a burden to lighten, brought a ray of sunshine to a cloudy day.  Isn’t that the coolest thing?  And don’t we all wish we could spread more of it, both to others and ourselves?

I read the coolest study about serotonin levels.  That’s what anti-depressants do—raise those levels in the brain so folks feel happy.  They of course come with all sorts of side effects, and while a percentage of people do exist with clinical depression and need them, and they work situationally as well, it seems these days the entire universe is swallowing them.  And many studies have shown that the pills don’t actually help mild depression any more than placebos do.

 

Again, I’m not saying in any way that medications aren’t called for in specific cases.  But for the rest of us, better ways exist.

 

Anyhow, the cool study referred to above revolved around acts of kindness.  It showed that when an act of kindness occurred, it raised the serotonin levels in both the giver and receiver.  Pretty neat, no?  But even beyond that, it also raised the levels in anyone around witnessing said act.  Wow!  Now, that’s cool beans!

 

So, I can feel better by being kind, being the recipient of a kind act, or just seeing one occur!  I’m in.  Because I like to feel good   

 

And I know of no other beings on the planet more proficient in bringing about good feelings, with complete love and kindness, than Labradors.  So, here a 4 ways they teach me every day:

 

When I see you, I’ll wag my tail.

Okay, so this might be weird in literal interpretation.  But it’s the outright joy they bring when seeing you walk through the door.  The sun has just risen.  The stars are out.  All is right with the world!

And we can do this too. You know when someone is truly happy to see you. Her eyes light up.  Her genuine smile is so welcoming.  And how does it make you feel?  Happy.

 

When You’re Sad, I’ll Lick Your Hand.

Okay, so preferably the tears from your face but we won’t go that far.  But when someone is grieving for anything, to sit with him, to pat his hand, even with no words is just like that lick from a beloved dog.  And serotonin rises.

 

Joyously, I’ll Share with You my Bumper.

Of course, this is most likely so you’ll throw it for me, but I’ll bring it back and back and back. Isn’t this a fun game?  Are you smiling now?  In other words, I’ll entertain you with who I am.  I’ll share with you the essence of me, even if it’s goofy and not all that brilliant.  But it’s actually who I am, and that brings a smile—to both of us.

 

If it’s Hot, I’ll Shake Pond Water on You.  If it’s Cold, I’ll Curl up with You at Night.

In other words, I’m here for you.  No sweat off my back, just know that if you’re in need, I’ll help.  In whatever way I can give.  Maybe it’s a smile or a hug or a hot cup of coffee.

 

As Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama, said, “Be kind whenever possible.  It is always possible.” 

 

How do you make someone happy?

 

 

 

 

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HUNTERS AND GATHERERS AND LUNCH DATES, OH MY!

So of course we all have things we do well and those we don’t—traits and gifts and all those sorts of things.  We’re better at some efforts and try to steer clear of the ones we’re not.  And some of us realize that more clearly than do others.

A dear friend of my brothers’ and mine who now lives in Tucson planned to come to town to visit his folks.  So he emails my bro Gary and me to schedule a time to see us while here.  No big deal, right?  Mike’s gonna be here nearly a week, so even all us busy folk can figure this out.

 

So the joint emails flow between the 3 of us.  And I could only sit back and laugh as the guys tell each other why a certain date or time won’t work for them.  But that’s all they said!  No, ‘but what about this time,’ etc.  No ‘how about this day, or we could do it closer to you in your time frame.’  And both emailing me privately about what to do. Baffled.

 

I mean, really?  Their parameters were pretty clear.  So I email and say, looks like this date and time will work for all. Voila!  It did.  And Mike said, “Leave it to a woman to get it organized.”

 

Well, duh.  LOL.  Because women are, after all, gatherers.  While men are still flailing about trying to bag the wooly mammoth, we’re already sitting down to eat the harvest.

 

And while I know Feminists preach against these generalizations (and I confess, I am a Feminist! It’s not a four-letter word to me), oft times in the interest of making our lives better, folks get diverted on the politically correct track and lose all sanity.

 

Men are wired differently from women.  Yes, another news flash (reference Five Keys for Understanding Men!).  For instance, most men I know do a great job of spacial organization (like packing the car).  I suck at that.  But give me an event to organize, and it’s done in nothing flat, while the guys stand around scratching their heads (I’m sticking to PG-rating here) and wondering who needs to do what when.

 

The guys I know are actually great at organizing hunting endeavors.  “I’ll take this blind and you take that one.”  But unless there’s going to be something to shoot, well, getting everybody to the same restaurant on time is beyond their ken.

 

And that’s fine.  As long as they know it.  Kinda like back to the car-packing scenario.  I make packing lists, get it all together, and then let the male of the species fit it all in the van.

 

Division of labor.  It works for me.  I bet it works for you too.  It’s not that we can’t get those out-of-our-skill-set things done.  We can.  I can get the stinking van packed.  And hopefully actually find what I need when I get to the destination.  Hey, as long as I arrive with the correct dogs to show, all is good. And the guys I feel certain would have eventually met up at the same place and time (well, maybe.  They’ve failed before!).  But as long as we’re all involved, why not do what we’re best at, and save time and energy for actually enjoying each other?

 

So go slay that beast and bring back the bacon.  In the meantime, I’ll have harvested from my garden and cooked up enough so that if said game isn’t abundant, no one will starve.  Bon Appetit!

 

How do you get along with the opposite sex?

 

 

 

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