pawspauseprose

Life as it arrives and dreams as they happen


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Just don’t look under the guy’s rug …

dating

That annoying itch when a wound is healing or is infected always calls out to be addressed. Therefore, we remove the band-aid and between air and antiseptic, it feels better. However, we also get to look at the inner workings of our body and some bacteria, which usually isn’t pleasant. I recently had a similar glimpse into the underbelly of relationships  causing me to gasp for air.

Because of recent news  documenting women killed and/or assaulted after contacting men on a certain “List” I had to wonder. Seriously, do people really date someone from the same place they sell old lawnmowers, used breast pumps and potty chairs? Regardless, just like ripping back a band-aid I was itching to understand this lower level need for companionship. I clicked onto men seeking woman and let the  infection begin!

I’m not exactly sure what man in his right mind – and that may indeed be my answer, assumes a photograph taken by cell phone in his bathroom with the heading “love me big jugs” would send Sinatra style chills through women. I know what it sent through me, and even though there were chills involved, it stopped short of a serenade. The ads continued from there every bit as dysfunctional, disgusting and delusional as the next, which left me bothered, bewildered and far from bewitched. Needless to say, there were close to 200 of these assaults to my sanity, leaving me to wonder what was sadder the women who answered them or the men writing them.

Keeping that thought in mind, I moved to the women seeking men column wondering what my fellow hunters in the dating jungle were looking for, and found myself amused. Although there were titillating titles, what immediately struck me was the lack of them. In stark comparison, the ratio must have been 2 for every 25 on the male side. Either  demographics for the human race are changing, or women have just given up, and if asked I would agree with the latter.

Listing qualities I someday hoped to find in my soul mate  very long ago was part of the time honored ritual of the single young woman. There was fantasy and even a little naughty, hoping Prince Charming would appear and we would age watching the sunset. Sadly,  the majority of those dreamy Prince’s have announced they’re Queens and no longer young women, we have been left with an underbelly of back hair covered crude testosterone, which  I for one prefer to walk away from – even if they think it’s good enough to advertise and photograph.

It must be something in the water as my mother used to say, because for the life of me I don’t remember honest, compassionate, funny and romantic men being put on the list of extinct species. Why is it so difficult to find someone to share a sunbeam across a week-end couch, laugh at an old cartoon or just touch feet with in the night, knowing it conveys as much satisfaction and emotion as any wild week-end? However, don’t get me wrong a wild week-end of frolic is always a good thing, and even this old gal remembers what a can of chilled cream can whip up. It is though that warm sunbeam and what it represents, which is the foundation for such whipped up romance and it is also what seems to have disappeared between too many lists in life.

The hunters have become flabby bottom feeders because they no longer need to seek out feminine prey and the one time femmes are far from fatal, putting very little effort towards the inevitable. Self-esteem has fallen off everyone’s list if you ask me. Maybe if it weren’t so easy to punch a few keys on a computer for cyber companionship there would be more honest matchmaking and sparks firing up the world making date night hot once again.

I remember a playboy cartoon years ago with a woman using her feet to fondle her naked husband as they sat across from each other reading magazines. The caption said, “No Edna I don’t think you’re kinky, you’re just lazy.” At the time it was humorous, but thinking about it now there isn’t anything funny about it, just a harbinger of relationships no one ever saw coming.

We don’t need to worry about the political decline of our world; it is already slowly matching the overall decline of who we are, our expectations and our commitment to really just about anything. Our food, dating, relationships and even children have  all become fast and easy, most times selected from lists and usually not completely thought out. The list is simple for the vast majority, wake up, work a while, go back to bed and before you know it, it’s time to die – nothing that requires much effort.

Amazing how far we have come and yet nobody has ever mentioned everything important we seem to have left behind.


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I am watching mom …

mother

Don’t they love their children too? It was a question raised in a popular song years ago referencing Russians and the fear of nuclear war. At the time, that was our biggest fear and Sting sang it without The Police  in a world where  the police only feared terror and not terrorists.

The question however goes beyond life and death, resonating  daily in life with women who  have successfully climbed the corporate ladder, able to make everyone’s life their business. Indeed, we no longer fear Russians as we once did; instead, it is  rush hour with a whole new clipboard of politics. Don’t get me wrong though, very few come out alive in this scenario either so I have to ask the same question, don’t they love their children?

Mothers are the first line of defense for infants they bring into this world, and their actions and emotions immediately form the future, past a few rhyming cartoons and stuffed animals. Life is a jungle and mothers have an inside track, showing children how to survive the rat race while being the best or worst they eventually will be. There’s no police academy on earth teaching these self defenses, common sense and survival techniques, even though they will eventually be responsible for the end result of said training.

As a young girl, I always imagined my father – who by the way really was the police, standing behind me when I went through my day. The question was, would he approve of my actions, being proud and understanding my motives or would he be ashamed. That was my learning curve into adulthood and later as a mother, it was my daughters who stood in his place. People don’t change it is a fact. However, situations do and the way in which we accept, acclimate, understand and react comes from who we are, and that is when I  ask again, don’t they love their children too?

Men are every bit as responsible for their actions against one another, but mothers are a special category with more impact on society then they will admit. I often wonder if they would act as they do against their own kind, as well as others, if their children were standing behind them watching and learning. A sharp tongue has replaced the sharp stilettos that originally fought the glass ceiling, but their  impact didn’t leave, it is still every bit as deadly – usually between the same unsuspecting shoulder blades.

The way society is viewed and accepted comes from the mouths and actions of parents, so I find it hard to believe they are left at the office at night. Face it – between cell phone, tablet and computer nothing is ever left at an office anymore. People are who they are same heart, values, thoughts and needs. However, when they become an employee  all that is up for grabs and a veil of political supremacy slides into place making them less human,  readily available for treatment a child would be punished for exhibiting.

I wonder if these mothers also ignore their children when they don’t agree with them, mentally accuse them of things or place them in unacceptable categories just because they can? Do they refuse to see  ideas as valuable or workable afraid of not getting a personal perk? Do they treat them as less than they are because of jealousy or  frustration? I hope not, although the way society is going it is up for debate. Nevertheless, that is how they treat those around them, never once wondering if they would like their children treated this way as adults in the business world someday. These mothers that have the ability to nurture and leave an example  have chosen to take their power on a very different trip, where I hope children are not riding shotgun.

How different this world would be if we treated each other not just as we wish we were treated, but as if our children were watching, learning from our actions – in a positive way. Politics, jealousy and security have become the actual weapons of world domination, which blow up in our face more than any bomb, leaving far too many injured innocents in its wake. I can only image how life could be if we worked towards the same goal, helping one another, celebrating the differences we each bring. Indeed, imagine combining our abilities and strengths in a positive environment  ending the day feeling good about ourselves, ready to do it again the next day only better. Isn’t that after all what we tell our children to do?

Maybe I’m wrong and it is acceptable now not to care about those we work or live with, only wanting to make ourselves look good at the cost of others. Obviously  these values are being taught to  children, which whether we realize it or not they eventually  show through as acceptable behavior in our actions. It makes me sad to consider such an option, but seeing the world so uncaring in an uncommitted arena of violence I can’t help but wonder – Why don’t we  love the children?

My mother taught me to leave somewhere or someone better than when I arrived, and looking over my shoulder I always knew my father approved of my actions.  I  know my children smile thinking about me and  things I have said and done, along with accomplishments  in my life. However it is more important  they remember examples I gave them  treating people that crossed into my life, whether I was the boss, their co-worker, a family member or friend because  that is why we are in this life – for one another.

After all, I do love my children.


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You Can’t be Full unless you’ve gotten to empty

jelly

 

Years after becoming an adult, it became clear that having a half empty glass is the gift of a lifetime, and there is nothing pessimistic about it. That is of course as long as it is a 4 inch tall cartoon jelly glass, which once offered sweetness to many a peanut butter sandwich or pile of warm toast, as well as being the container for the cold milk needed to wash them down.

Simple things in life are taken for granted during the race to finish first with the most toys and the highest total; we forget they are what got us there in the first place. Indian Jones knew the Holy Grail wasn’t a jewel encrusted goblet, but instead the simple cup of a carpenter and he chose wisely. Pity the same can’t be said for most of the real human race.

Going into a home and not just a house, there will be mismatched flatware and dishes, maybe even a few jelly glasses in the cupboard, along with assorted coffee mugs (the ones that say Best Boss, I Love Grandma or have assorted colors and pictures are the giveaway). The meals they’ve supported, the conversation and laughter they’ve heard and of course, the hands that washed them either for an allowance or in a chore of love gave them a value surpassing any holy grail. You see they bring love to life, which in turn adds stability to the foundation of a home keeping both door and mind open. Indeed the half empty is not what is missing, but what has been enjoyed gained and learned making all the difference in life.

The next time you are in a restaurant, really look at the sterility of the shining commercial fixtures you are paying to enjoy. The dishes and glasses may have been used by the affluent and famous, but they also have also been run through showers of scalding heat, in an uncaring routine for the next use. Compare your life and ask if those same values apply and you or if sadly you feel at home there. I hope that you can’t wait to get home, where nothing compares to a small kitchen table and leftovers, which come with warm conversation, memories and a few crumbs on the floor.

Celebrate the half empty in your life and all that it made you. Celebrate your half empty through the emotions and efforts of a family, where you matter both good and bad. Celebrate the simple half empty as  confirmation  you are that much closer to the end of your journey, and you’ve lived life the best way you could knowing the value between being half full of nothing and half empty due to experience, love and satisfaction.

It would be simplistic if I were to say the best way to keep from getting jammed up in life is to live away from glass houses, preserving the values set out by your parents and family. Nevertheless, that is what eventually sticks to our soul in the long run, keeping us from running on empty, even if the glass happily is. Maybe that is also what’s wrong with society anymore, there aren’t enough jelly glasses and people have no place to hold any human kindness so it can eventually pour out, they just never learned what cup to use.