So I had an experience this weekend that left me bewildered. Like most moms who have spent years in diapers, dishes and antibacterial hand gel, the invitation to go out and have fun is a tempting pandora's box. We all know we need it. The box factor comes in when we realize that we may need to purchase spanx, get a haircut and actually apply lipgloss to rock our inner glam factor. But if you are desperate and it happens to be a part of a commitment to attend a wedding - you go for it.
As a closet introvert with years of social practice, I charge up my batteries for these type of events. So raring to go, I charged ahead full-steam. Having volunteered to help with the various needs of the weekend, I met many of the family members and friends. That being said - all went well until the reception. I put myself together and got ready to have fun. The dancing got going and I jumped in with my girlies to kick it up. I mingled and shmingled to my hearts content. But I noticed some crude attention from some of the fellas as I went along. I felt a little uncomfortable, but decided boys are boys and blew it off.
As a back history, I was raised in a conservative christian home. Guys were generally not the focus of my teen existence and I've never really learned the skills of relating well with men.
Back to the reception. So I finished up the night wondering something. "Am I comfortable dressing in an attractive way and being a christian?" Why this became an issue was because I had comments about my a**, and several comments about looking sexy and even f-bombs and sexual innuendos thoughout the event. One fellow in particular was over the line and down the canyon, so to speak.
Did I dress in too provocative a way? Did I dance in the same way? Did this affect my "reputation" ;) as a believer? I was with regular folks who weren't necessarily christians and who had been drinking plenty. Was it them or was it me? I've never considered myself sexy or tryed act that way. I've never flirted (ask my husband, I'm still trying to learn with him, poor baby!) and so I'm confused.
Any advice out there? Some male perspective would be especially helpful.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Something about...
There is just something about a good meal. My dishes are piled high, bills are out and ready to be paid, laundry needs to be separated and I am in a bliss moment. I took the time to prepare this chilled avocado cream soup with handmade crispy chile-lime strips, handchopped pico and sour cream that Afton took from our cow... (oops, the sour cream came from Aldi's). Levi and I popped open cold Rolling Rocks and are eating together. Kids are asleep and it's a cool Sunday night.
Seriously, this kind of simplicity is worth the effort ;)
Seriously, this kind of simplicity is worth the effort ;)
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Afton's Cookie Kit Fundraiser
I need to sell 10 kits by Mar 10. Would you mind helping out? The kits are only $10 a pop and perfect for Easter gifts/projects. (And they are FUN!)Monday, January 26, 2009
Sick o' the sick
Lysol wipes, vitamins, airborne, nyquil, redi-tabs, hot tea, calling schools, Bah-bah-bah. I am sick of my family being sick! It has been a month.
I believe Afton has Fifth's Disease, Cedar now has pinkeye, I cannot talk-breathe-holla properly and Levi is a walking combo of all of these.
We are a hot mess. There, I'm done complaining. Just needed to shoot my thoughts into the universe.
I believe Afton has Fifth's Disease, Cedar now has pinkeye, I cannot talk-breathe-holla properly and Levi is a walking combo of all of these.
We are a hot mess. There, I'm done complaining. Just needed to shoot my thoughts into the universe.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Funerals are funny
Funerals are funny. Funny strange. Could be the cold medicine I'm ingesting in obscene amounts and the unwise choice of high heels as footgear. My grandma died this week. She had wild fuzzy silver hair and was sharply funny. Her eastern European bluntness could stop you short when she criticized or fill your heart when she poured out her love. Independance,endurance,and inquisitiveness marked her path.
I will miss you my warm polish grandma. My homestyled slice of the city safe harbor. My intelligent friend-I will miss you
I will miss you my warm polish grandma. My homestyled slice of the city safe harbor. My intelligent friend-I will miss you
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Breathless
After watching/listening/overhearing parts of the inauguaration and pomp today, I was struck. I suppose I expected to feel and see what we've always seen and felt. Big words, Big hats, big parades and the sense that expectations would not be met. The sense that we'd feel the other wingtip fall tomorrow.
Unexpectedly, in the midst of everything - I felt a stream of simplicity and dare I say it...spirituality. The lack of a need to bluster. The pullback into quietness of soul with Yo-Yo Ma and the gang. In the past, it has felt embarassing to hope in our nation, or justice. There is the lurking cynic, the dark mocker and even my own apprehension that has said no to the element most basic in our human creation - HOPE. But today, it came unbidden, burbling up - melting elements of fear. What truly could happen if even most of our nation just began to try? To try harder? Bush's choices often often made our nation look like one large ass. Who wants to maintain that image?
This morning, who could not be moved to tears? Something real is happening here. Our nation desires it, the younger generations are demanding it - I pray to God that Barack and his buddies can stand under the weight of a nations hopes. WHat works for me is that Barack calls each American into responsibility and accountability. To step out from the shadows and not wilt with laziness. He's calling out to the best part of ourselves.
The sheer breadth of body movement down the length of the lawn was spectacular. I Have been there when it was 1/3 - 1/2 full and it seemed endless. Did you see that glorious mass?
Well, my girl Afton is sick so gotta go motha-love her bitty biscuits. What did you all think?
Unexpectedly, in the midst of everything - I felt a stream of simplicity and dare I say it...spirituality. The lack of a need to bluster. The pullback into quietness of soul with Yo-Yo Ma and the gang. In the past, it has felt embarassing to hope in our nation, or justice. There is the lurking cynic, the dark mocker and even my own apprehension that has said no to the element most basic in our human creation - HOPE. But today, it came unbidden, burbling up - melting elements of fear. What truly could happen if even most of our nation just began to try? To try harder? Bush's choices often often made our nation look like one large ass. Who wants to maintain that image?
This morning, who could not be moved to tears? Something real is happening here. Our nation desires it, the younger generations are demanding it - I pray to God that Barack and his buddies can stand under the weight of a nations hopes. WHat works for me is that Barack calls each American into responsibility and accountability. To step out from the shadows and not wilt with laziness. He's calling out to the best part of ourselves.
The sheer breadth of body movement down the length of the lawn was spectacular. I Have been there when it was 1/3 - 1/2 full and it seemed endless. Did you see that glorious mass?
Well, my girl Afton is sick so gotta go motha-love her bitty biscuits. What did you all think?
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Long fatty post
Winter purity
Tonight I drove through magic. The kind of quiet, late-night sparkling beauty that speaks to the luxury of being alone. I like the quiet danger of being out in a snow storm when things are a bit out of control. Its the same feeling I get on a motorcycle - powerful, vulnerable, and somehow a feeling a great stillness and rest.
Being a personality chameleon, I like being around people that draw out my vital streams. Always, in times of snowy unknown, I think of an unusual old friend. Have you ever met a young person that felt so seasoned from their life’s twists, that they seemed ageless, almost iconic? Trubert Flowers (yes, his real name) was (and I assume is) like that. In the height of America’s grunge period, I met this no holds barred American cowboy. Quiet, prepared and mischevious, I had never seen anything like him. Full on six-shooters, chaps, Wranglers and snapfront shirt. I rudely gaped in amazement the first time I met him. I was sure he was joking. Or a circus clown.
I traveled through Amarillo, his landing spot, several times. I’d join friends in sledding behind his horses and watching him break a horse. I even learned how to crack one hell of a long bullwhip – poorly, I might add. But my favorite experiences were getting caught with my girlfriends in his truck on the highway in snowstorms. I remember being pretty scared coming home with a few of my teammates from a church service in his truck. Winter storms blow up fast and nasty around the panhandle. It becomes quickly apparent who is prepared and who’s going to be waiting for a tow.
I watched Trubert, a man at ease in his element, comfortable with the unexpected and even enjoying it. He pulled car after car out of the ditches while we girls sat like idiots. I barely drove a stick shift –let alone that behemoth of a truck he tooled around in.
Observing him made me want to be stronger, less oblivious, and more prepared. So in the snow tonight, I embraced the strength of knowing more of who I am and liking it. When the wheels spun and the snow was thick, I remembered that I could be at rest; I could enjoy the purity of winter.
Tonight I drove through magic. The kind of quiet, late-night sparkling beauty that speaks to the luxury of being alone. I like the quiet danger of being out in a snow storm when things are a bit out of control. Its the same feeling I get on a motorcycle - powerful, vulnerable, and somehow a feeling a great stillness and rest.
Being a personality chameleon, I like being around people that draw out my vital streams. Always, in times of snowy unknown, I think of an unusual old friend. Have you ever met a young person that felt so seasoned from their life’s twists, that they seemed ageless, almost iconic? Trubert Flowers (yes, his real name) was (and I assume is) like that. In the height of America’s grunge period, I met this no holds barred American cowboy. Quiet, prepared and mischevious, I had never seen anything like him. Full on six-shooters, chaps, Wranglers and snapfront shirt. I rudely gaped in amazement the first time I met him. I was sure he was joking. Or a circus clown.
I traveled through Amarillo, his landing spot, several times. I’d join friends in sledding behind his horses and watching him break a horse. I even learned how to crack one hell of a long bullwhip – poorly, I might add. But my favorite experiences were getting caught with my girlfriends in his truck on the highway in snowstorms. I remember being pretty scared coming home with a few of my teammates from a church service in his truck. Winter storms blow up fast and nasty around the panhandle. It becomes quickly apparent who is prepared and who’s going to be waiting for a tow.
I watched Trubert, a man at ease in his element, comfortable with the unexpected and even enjoying it. He pulled car after car out of the ditches while we girls sat like idiots. I barely drove a stick shift –let alone that behemoth of a truck he tooled around in.
Observing him made me want to be stronger, less oblivious, and more prepared. So in the snow tonight, I embraced the strength of knowing more of who I am and liking it. When the wheels spun and the snow was thick, I remembered that I could be at rest; I could enjoy the purity of winter.
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