The Setup:  Along the upper terrace which goes the width of the house,  we have a section of ‘doggie turf”.   The doggie turf is a layer of heavy plastic sheeting covered with a layer of outdoor grasslike carpet.  Thus, Crazy Dog can be let out in the semi-open when neither of her human buddies  has what it takes to toddle down the stairs and let her out the back on the real greenbelt…which is often on a cool morning or even more often when it’s over a hundred degrees.  

Every couple of months, the doggie patch requires cleaning with a power hose.  This job I could complete without assistance, except the outdoor water spigot is, of course, on the downstairs veranda.  Thus, I need my special person to throw the power hose up to me and turn  the water full blast on once I have the hose pointed in a safe direction…and I need him available to turn the water off when I’m finished.

Without someone to turn the water off, I would be required to close the power valve on the hose (otherwise the nozzel would spin wildly), run (barefoot and in my underwear) the length of the upstairs, go down the stairs, reverse and run the length of the house again through the living room, dining room, and kitchen….then going out the kitchen door, then I’d have to reverse field once again on the lower veranda and run the length of the house again, step into the fountain enclosure, find the spigot, and twist it off.  

That is, if I didn’t slip and kill myself in route as all floors are tile and I would be barefoot with a tinge of soap left on my soles.  Meanwhile, of course, the expensive power hose and nozzle would have exploded.

On the particular day of this incident, my special person had coordinated with me on the first two aid requirements—tossing up the hose and turning the water on.  I am now out on the terrace pouring cleansers and power-washing like crazy….  When my special person sticks his head out the French doors to inform me he’s taking off to run an errand.

“You’re going to do what?…”   I exclaim, as if he’d just told me he was off to climb Mt. Everest in a bikini and taking Crazy Dog with him.  Alas!  I can’t believe he’s thinking about his life and what he needs to get done and not MY life and I have to get done.  I heave one of those I-can’t-believe-you-can-even-say-something-so-thoughtless…sighs….Then I elaborated on what would happen if I was left to finish alone….Reciting with great importance the above paragraph beginning with ‘Without someone to turn the water off….ending with the explosion.

Twenty minutes later, I finish the cleaning  job and open the French doors calling for my special person:  “Honey, I’m done…. Honey?….I’m ready for you to turn the water off….Honey?….Honey?…..Honey!…Hey!…Need some help here!  Help!  I need help here!”

No one answers.

Tune in for the next episode of  “As the Nozzel Turns” and watch the Emotional Guidance System go crazy….

The husband leaned in and said, “The reason I have to get away is not because of WHO SHE IS…. she’s great.  I’m leaving because of WHO I AM WHEN I AM AROUND HER.”   He went on to explain….

“I feel pretty good about who I am–at work, with friends, with my family–everywhere but at home….everywhere but when we are together.  She doesn’t think much of me and I’m not strong enough to feel good about myself around her.”

See next post:  How to Ruin a Relationship: Expect the Other Person to Fail You.

One hot day a man is walking along a narrow mountain trail with steep sides dropping off hundreds of feet into the canyon below.  At one point, the man steps into some loose gravel at the edge of the trail and slips off the path.  (Work with me here.  Think of Nepal…fog.) 

The poor man is destined to plummet to his death.  And, yet, just as he begins his descent, several yards from the top surface…the man notices a thin branch sticking out from the wall of rock.  He grabs hold of the branch and ‘whew’ holds on for his life.  But all is not well for long.  The branch has only weak, spiny roots, which are quickly loosening from the wall. 

His time on earth is definitely brief.  For a moment, the blather of his panicked Emotional Guidance System dominates his life experience screaming:  “This is horrible!  This is terrible!  I can’t stand this!”

Then, at the moment of his greatest soul-gripping horror, the man notices a wild strawberry plant growing out of the wall next to the slipping roots of his lifeline branch.  The strawberry plant offers nothing in terms of a hold.  So what possible use is a stupid plant?  The man’s brain is going wild.  “This is horrible!  This is terrible!  I can’t stand this!  What good is a stupid plant if it won’t help me in my life?  What good is a strawberry plant if it can’t help me live longer?” 

The man’s mind clearsfor a fraction of a second.  He iss able to set aside his desperate demand to live forever or even longer.  The man realizes all any man or woman has is the present moment.  He becomes accutely aware that, though he is clinging to a brief …and getting briefer…lifeline, his life now…is no different from the life possessed by any man or woman.

His mind quiets and with his sudden clarity, the man notices that…on the strawberry plant are several plump red berries.  He glanced up at the branch which is now barely a sputtering string.  He glances down.  No question, within minutes, maybe seconds, he will be a lifeless body on the canyon floor.  Above him is the past he so longs to continue and improve upon.  Below him is the sure future he feared and dreaded.

Then, he noticed how red, and full, and perfectly ripe the berries were on the plant in front of his face.  Okay, then…he decided.  He CHOSE then to focus on the strawberry plant.  The man dared to loosen his grip on the branch long enough to pluck one of the fruits.  He popped the strawberry in his mouth.  The flavor took over his mind…his life experience. The strawberry was sweet and tart and wonderful.  Wonderful.

On the miracle body that is possible with the “new” Skechers body-shaping shoes—

Prior to purchase you should know that those of us with arthritic knees and ankles have been wearing these for years….You might want to get a good look at us as we are walking away before you invest big bucks in these babies.  Also, see artist babe on the cover of TOO RICH and TOO THIN, Not an Autobiography.

Dateline:  We return to American 875, DFW to Cabo San Lucas and the  Rude Woman in Seat 20B.

As we left our story… (See previous entry on Rude Woman in Seat 20B)…..The RW has planted herself in 20B Exit Row Aisle across from her husband in 20C.  A not-too-with-it flight attendant, in a rush to get the plane off, has shushed the Nice Lady who’d approached the RW saying that RW was in her seat….

And now we’re in the air and you’re thinking things will settle, right? Oh…but, no.   

The Nice Lady who actually has a boarding pass showing her seat assignment in 20B again approaches the RW, showing her the ‘evidence’ and asking, nicely, if perhaps if there has been an error.

Rude Wife responds:  “Oh, I have a seat  up there somewhere…” she says and flutters her hand toward a middle seat up front.  “But, I’m sitting here instead because I want to sit near my husband (Rude Husband in 20D).  Now, if we’d known exactly what sort of liveliness Rude Husband had planned to inflict on those nearby….Nice Lady might have been glad to desert the scene.

Nice Lady tried again. “But, that’s my seat.”

Rude Wife responds, “Well, I’m sitting here because I want to sit here because we are traveling together.”

What?   Nice Lady recognizes that the RW’s boorishness has out-trumped her willingness to cause a scene. Receiving no help from the exhausted flight attendants running double and triple shifts on the holiday…Nice Lady fades into the rows at the front of the plane.  So, now we sit back, right?

Nuuuuu.  Rude Wife who has bullied her way into Seat 20B…now turns to Nice Lady #2 who is seated next to her in 20A, Aisle on the window…and get this...stay with me…this is hard to believe…R.W. says to Nice Lady #2 in 20B: “Say, would you mind switching seats with one of my friends in 12E or 14E.  I want to have my friend sit next to me.”  Remember, I’m tapping keys as we fly, so these are quotes.

“I really don’t want to move,” Nice Lady #2 says. “I appreciate the extra leg room on this aisle and I’d rather not squeeze into a middle seat.”  (Though before it’s all over, after Rude Woman and Rude Husband are joined by a gang of Rude Friends, Nice Woman #2 will give up her seat and gladly.)

“Well, I don’t understand why you won’t help me out. I want to sit with my friends,” RW whines.  Now, as RW and Rude Husband have not been successful in clearing out the entire premium aisle to accommodate their group…the RH and RW kick up the action by yelling back and forth to their friends in the front of the plane.  The poor couple who’d held their ground (sort of ) in 20 Center and Window next to the husband cringe and lean heavily toward the window.

Sweet Lady #1, the legal occupant of 20B, understandably, hasn’t appreciated how the situation was handled by the flight attendant and calls the attendant’s attention to what actually transpired.  The flight attendant asks Rude Wife if she is in her assigned seat.  She lies bigtime, “Oh, yes. I’m in my seat across the aisle from my husband….I’ve lost my boarding pass.”

The over-worked flight attendants slip away to do beverage service.  And to the amazement of her audience, Rude Wife stands up and takes off for the front of the plane.  Special Person and I, along with those in the surrounding seats, breathe a sigh of relief and appreciation.  We’d misjudged RW.  And now,  here RW was doing the right thing, heading back to take her assigned seat…Right?  Ha.

RW returns to her seat (wait…not really her seat).  RW is clearly hacked.  Rude Wife rings her Flight Attendant Call button and the flight attendant returns.  RW is shouting that the flight attendant in First Class was rude to her and she wants to file a report. (Yeah…I know…sheesh.)  The flight attendant says, “No, ma’m.  The flight attendant in First Class was correct.  You cannot just re-seat yourself in First Class because there happens to be an empty seat.”

Rude Wife argues the point and insists on a complaint form.  Rude Husband says to the flight attendant, “As long as you’re here, how about coming back with a couple of beers?”  The flight attendant points out that RH and RW have already been served and she needs to provide drink service first to those on the plane who haven’t had anything.  RH points out he doesn’t care and waves a five dollar bill in her face.

At this point, Nice Lady#2 in 20A, window, deeply regrets holding her ground in the premium seat as she is squashed into the side of the plane with RH and RW yelling over her to their friends. She leaves for any seat away from these brutes.  RW, laughing at how she “showed her”,  hollers at her friends in those middle seats to come on back. One comes to fill 20A and three others plant themselves in the aisle. 

Can’t it get more absurd?  Why it can.  After the second drink service, one of the beleagered flight attendants took a quick run up front and snagged a leftover first class meal. He’s heading back for a much needed short rest on the jump seat in the galley…when…as he passed Rude Husband grabs  the flight attendant’s elbow and demands a hot meal for himself and RW.  The flight attendant explains that there is no meal service in coach and the meal was for his lunch. That he’d been up since six that morning (it’s now eight at night) without a real break or a meal.  The flight attendant promises to return with more beers after his break.  Not good enough for ole RH.  He wants a full meal and he wants it now or he wants another one of those claim forms to fill out.

At this point, Special Person and I are trying to overhear where RH, RW, and their several Rude Friends are staying.  Just in case we need to change our reservations away from whichever hotel the Rude Gang are planning on taking over.

Maybe we should stay on the plane to Puerto Vallarta, just to be safe, we’re thinking. Or, Costa Rica is nice this time of year. 

A certain sadness rises with the thought that somewhere back in the US, there could be RH and RW offspring, young people who will no doubt end up burdening the prison system… and be glad for the opportunity to be housed with felons over contact with their Rude Family

If your Christmas late evening was marred by a relative knocking over the Christmas tree (again) after too much eggnog…if or you ended up dodging flying turkey bones as one of those always charming inter-family political debates blew up….you likely looked out the bay window at the stars thinking….”Next year, I’m jetting out of the country as soon as the presents are opened.”

Ahh….not so fast.  You were only able to imagine the bliss of escape on a jet to faraway, because you’d not yet heard of the Rude Lady in Seat 20B, American Airlines 875, Dallas-Ft.Worth to Cabo San Lucas.  Prior to experiencing RL20B, I’d been considering working on being less judgmental as my New Year’s Resolution.  By the time we were over Juarez, RL20B had proven ”being less judgmental” was too big a reach for a weenie like me in 2010.

Everything started out okay.  My special one and I are seated in 21 E&F, middle and window, exit row.  The exit rows (20 and 21) are much prized for the extended leg-room.  The exit rows can only be pre-reserved…by very frequent fliers (sort of a hazard pay) and only by signing up very early for the flight.  Which is to say…a passenger goes to a lot of trouble to reserve an exit row seat…like say…Seat 20B…Aisle, Exit Row.  The plane is fairly empty on the ground in DFW until the last five minutes when crowds came aboard.  The flight attendants immediately started in prompting people to quickly take their seats to try and make an on-time take-off.

In front of us a nice older couple has taken their months-ago reserved exit row seats–Seats 20 D and E (Aisle and Middle).  Across the aisle, a young blonde woman travelling solo, has taken her long ago reserved Exit Row seat, Seat 20A against the window.  Thus, Row 20 is full except for the 20B on the aisle and 20F, across the aisle.   (Now you can forget Row 21, since all of the outrageousness has to do with Row 20.)

Move 1:  A loud young man and his wife roar up the aisle.  The man stops at Row 20, starts waving his hand over the couple in front of us as says, “Hey!  You guys don’t mind moving over to the window and middle do you?  I’d like to have this aisle seat so I can (this is a quote) “Holler up to my friends up there?…And, this way I can sit with my wife.”  Not knowing what was to come, the sweet couple said, “Sure. We’d prefer the aisle and middle, but if it’s important to you, we’ll move over.”  Which they did…thinking the Rude Guy was through messing with them. 

But, they’d be wrong.  Once settled across from each other on the aisle, Row 20, the husband turns to the nice couple to his right who’d accommodated him by switching from their preferred aisle and middle, to a middle and window on Row 20.  Now, this guy makes a fresh proposal: “Say, you guys wouldn’t mind getting up and switching with my friends up in Seat 14E (center) and 12E (center), would you guys? Me and my friends, we’d like to talk on the trip.”  (I’m taking down the quotes as we fly).

The sweet man in 20E answers in an admirable tone,  “But sir, you’re asking us to give up extra leg-room Exit Row seats for middle seats…” he said, thinking that would be enough.

But no.  The Rude Guy says, “Come on, now.  Me and my friends, we just want to sit together.  See we’re traveling with our friends.”

Nice guy points out, “But, sir, the seats you want us to switch to are not even close to each other. My wife and I would like to sit together.”

“Gee, Mister,” says Rude Guy, “I thought you’d want to help out.”

At this point, particularly if you’re not a frequent flier, you may be thinking….this doesn’t sound like all that big of a deal. 

But then, of course…. You are assuming what the rest of us on the plane (and this party of six had by this point buried all other conversations with their ‘hollering’ back and forth from the front to the back of the plane)….we, like you, are assuming that the Rude Woman who plunked down in 20B across the aisle from her Rude Guy husband….we’re assuming that the Rude Woman had actually been assigned Seat 20B…that she had pre-reserved the premium seat.  But we…like you….like the flight attendant would be wrong.  And when the woman who had the assignment of 20B, who’d been given a temporary seat by a flight attendant who’d been in a hurry to get the plane off and who had assumed she’d been mistaken about her seat….when this woman shows up to claim her seat 20B….that’s when the fun starts.

Tune in for Part Two: Rumble in the Skies Over Mexico.

 

How bright and appealing are the fruits in your future?

What if your participation in the food pyramid is determined by how well you manage anxiety?

I know.  Hello Big Mac.

But really….to what degree are your choices….influenced by your mood?….your current opinion of yourself?  How your career’s going?….heck….how work’s going today?   To what degree are your behavior choices influenced by how your special person is thinking about you? (Or, more correctly….how you THINK he is thinking…and, by the way, you’re wrong.)

“Which is more important?  The world as it exists?   Or the world we’re making up as we go along?”

Symptomatic behavior, from angry outbursts to staying in bed all day…. are a result of a combination of:  physical elements (including genetics and current state of health);   life events (including upbringing experiences);  the individual’s basic level of functioning (typical ability to manage stress and change);  the functional level and availability of the emotional system (family).

And behaving in anything like a healthy, reasonable manner is hard as trying to drag yourself out of a pot of setting taffy.  If it were any easier, no one would miss their daily walk, no one would be overweight, no one would overdrink….there wouldn’t even be a “Latest Stupid Diet Discovery Aisle) in the grocery store.  Oh, and there’s now a separate section called: Anti-Aging.  Now what kind of dream world is that?

I don’t have the answer on how to suddenly function better, how to easily conquer my ever-present, anxiety-driven,  Emotional Guidance System.  I haven’t taken my afternoon walk since….ahhhh…since we returned from Cabo San Lucas….since I returned to real life.  I’ve figured it out how to cure all of us.  If we can all stack up enough hotel and airline points to live permanently in a resort on the tip of Baja…I mean…we’re fixed.  What a miracle.

Let’s start with the symptom of not eating fruit.  Grazing the buffet overlooking the Sea of Cortez, I had no problem filling up my bowl every morning with strawberries, bananas, pineapple, apple slices.  “Beautiful fruit,” I’d exclaim.  “Omelet?” they asked.  “Oh, not for me.  This fruit looks great!” 

Now, I’m back at my Dallas national world headquarters Hilton…and I can hardly look at the fruit.  Gosh, all those healthy behaviors had come so naturally in Mexico.  What happened I ask, as I finish up my bacon and wash down my blood pressure pill with coffee?

Now BEFORE WE BLAME the ENVIRONMENT and slap on all the cliches…”work too hard…traffic…weather…mom late picking you up from kindergarten…”…JUST STOP IT already.

I, like all of you, can take more charge of the world I see and make up.  I can make those strawberries more colorful.  And, there’s a way you can start right now.  Say out loud, “Wow, what a beautiful, interesting sky.  What lovely______.”  Because remember, unlike the unfortunate Princess Diana…YOU ARE ALIVE.  (See post on What Do You Have that Princess Diana Doesn’t?)

And as long as you and I are alive, we’ve got a shot at changing what goes on inside our chest cavities.  We’ve got a shot at joy.

I told my husband I was his trophy wife. He said, “So I didn’t get first place?”
Smoooooooooch.

Yes. It’s official. We’ve gone around some kind of bend as the American television-watching public. I just saw a very thin woman explain how she lost weight by getting her treats at the Taco Bell drive through. I really did. I verify this statement because I’m aware there’s a television public that never goes near the sorts shows I have running…I respect you, but, I gotta let you know what kind of trash is out there….
Taco Bell…hmmm…This is the same company that had a campaign last year which said, “Late night snack? Don’t think of it as a snack, think of it as a fourth meal!”….Now that’s what America needs….a fourth meal.

Resolution for 2010:  Start Living Now

Resolution for 2010 in two parts:

1)     Live in the Present.

2)     Take RESPONSIBILITY for the quality of the present moment. 

The plan is to report steps… forward and back…hoping others can learn from my frailties.

Inspiration: A non-so-good French movie set in Monaco.  The female lead has her one room apartment decorated wall-to-wall with Princess Diana memorabilia.

The male lead asks, “Why the overwhelming adoration? Did you love Princess Di that much?”

She says: (paraphrasing) “Yes.  Princess Di had it all…and I have nothing. She was beautiful. She was wealthy beyond anything I can even imagine.  She was loved by everyone.  She was famous.  I think she’s the luckiest woman who ever lived.   I loved her so much my life was nothing but a poor immitation. I didn’t know how to be alive as just me.  When Princess Diana was alive, I lived through her. I spent my simple, unfamous life, wishing I was her.”

He asks: “Why do you keep all these pictures?”

She says: “To remind myself I have something Princess Di does not have.  I am alive.  I can plan things.  I can meet new people.” 

He asked: “So?”

She said: “I keep all these pictures and stories to remind myself I am alive. That one day I won’t have the chance to enjoy the day….but unlike Princess Di…I’m not there yet.  That one day when it’s over …is not TODAY.”

Thus, following these words from a bad French movie, my Resolution for 2010 is to live in the present…instead of ruing the past and worrying about the future.  And to make an honest effort, moment by moment, to take responsibility for the quality of my experience.

Want to come along?  Actually, the present being the way it is…None of us have a choice….as long as we are alive…we can change…we can do better…. Let’s have some fun. 

Next:  The Joy of Strawberries.

“Men are anxious to improve their circumstances, but are unwilling to improve themselves;
they therefore remain bound.”
James Allen
The Light of Reason.