Thing One and Thing Two

For those of you not totally sick of hearing me talk about my boyfriendic (or boyfriendal) situation, I have some news.

But before I go into my news item, I have to say that I find I enjoy reading blogs much more than posting them and to my great dismay (but also relief) I find that there truly are Masters of Blogging out there, so many of them. They are incredible and it just amazes me that so many people

1) Have much more interesting and profound things to post
2) Express their feelings, activities and what-have-you like 300 times better than I do
3) Understand things a whole lot better than I do
4) Post great pictures and diagrams (FN is the best for diagrams. Also for lengthy but totally necessary explanations)
5) Have cuter cats than I do
6) Are just better bloggers

No feelings of inadequacy here, just giving some credit where it's due. And also explaining my lack of posts since I spend far too much time reading other blogs and it leaves me very little time for writing. No criminal activity, right?

Anyhoo, BF1 is still playing his cute little game of calling me and insinuating that he is interested, even though he doesn't actually say so in so many words. He is still living with his girlfriend but bizarrely calls me or emails me every day. I patiently go along with his little game and in my mind I'm like "Whatever."

BF2, who had been lost (read: not calling) for three weeks, finally broke down and called me on Friday night. As many of you know, Friday night is Happy Hour night for me. Or Content Hour night for us old-timers for whom "Happy" may be way too much and risky to our health and wellbeing. Yes, people, he called me and was all pathetic and stuff, saying he missed me and did not want to lose me, etc. I am sure you're glad I'm sparing you all the details of this fascinating conversation. But for the hell of it, let me quote you some juicy parts:

BF2: Is my toothbrush still on your sink?

Me: (Stupidly) Yes.

BF2: I miss you and I don't want to lose you.

Me: I thought you had already lost me. It's been 3 weeks since I last saw you.

BF2: I'm sorry. (I have observed that BF's say this phrase when they have nothing else more intellectual or to-the-point).

Me: Have you been drinking?

BF2: Yes, I have.

At least he's honest about most things. And I am a sucker for apologetic guys who have been drinking and are all, well, "sorry."

So I told him we would talk about it the next day. The next day we sat outside on my porch and had a short but productive discussion which consisted of me telling him that the next time he bales out after a fight that I will never, so help me God, answer his calls and needless to say his toothbrush would be a goner. It also consisted of him nodding his head and looking sheepish. It worked, I gotta tell you.

Do any of you remember my post bemoaning the fact that men are incomprehensible and that they lack genetic material, etc? Well, I would have to say that I am also incomprehensible to myself, seeing as how he made me so mad but at the same time he is just irresistible with his little boy way of saying sorry and being so cute and sweet and stuff... I know, I'm pathetic too.

I have just one favor to ask you. Keep the comments civil.

Observed in Traffic

Two observations:

1) Last Saturday I was picking up my mother from Weight Watchers. I was in her car, which has one of those handicapped stickers, because she is, well, handicapped. My mom walks with a walker and it takes her a long time to get from point A to point B. She was walking very slowly and I was in the car waiting for her to get in. A car drove up behind me and started honking. I took the handicapped sticker and waved it so the lady would see it, plus she could see my mother struggling to get to the car. The woman was mouthing stuff at me and kept honking her horn. I motioned for her to pass me since my mother was still not in the car. When she passed by me she flipped me the finger and I stared in disbelief at her. Then, after my mom settled in the car we left and caught up at the light with the woman who had flipped me off because my mom was not fast enough for her. On the back of the car was one of those stupid "Jesus is my Co-Pilot" bumper stickers! I don't believe that for one second.

2) This morning I was driving to work and a car came up beside me and cut me off to get in front of me at a red light. I was able to brake in time to not squash her rear bumper, shrugged and just wrote it off as another crazy woman quite possibly very late for work. As I waited at the light I saw that she had two articles hanging from her rear view mirror. One was a rosary with a huge cross. The second article was a set of handcuffs. Classy.

Just Download them Please

Me (after giving my son a list of songs I want downloaded from the Internet): Please download these for me! Puleeeze?

My younger son: Who is this first guy "Moby." Isn't that "Moby Dick?"

Me: No in his case the "Dick" is silent.

Men...Can't Live Without 'Em...but I'm Going to Try...

I'm being facetious (sp?) here but it's my blog so I'm allowed. I love men. My Dad was an exceptional person and the best father, my all-time favorite person and my soul-mate, may he rest in peace. I miss him every day of my life and will never, ever forget him or his sweet smile and tender ways. I got married to my ex-husband and he really is a nice man, a great father, wonderful provider, etc. Can't get along with him but maybe it's just me. I have two sons of the male species (I know that's redundant but I'm trying to make a point) and adore them as you all well know and are almost puking from my sappy mommy posts. Some of my best friends are men, as are some of my favorite bloggers. Even those I just visit and don't comment on because I don't understand them, you know who you are. So, you see, I am perfectly objective and impartial when it comes to this post's subject.

But, "WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH MEN?" This is in quotation marks because it is an "important" question.

Scientific explanation: When I was taking Biology eons ago, we were shown a picture of the two X chromosomes women have and the XY chromosomes men have. Helloooooo, am I the only person in the world that notices that the Y chromosome is not really a Y chromosome (yes, repetitive, but I'm making a point)????? Men don't have an X and a Y chromosome, they have two X's but the second one is missing a leg, PEOPLE! This is evidence to the fact that women have considerably more genetic material than men. I am sure none of you will argue this point. This does not mean that women are perfect, indeed we are not and I have known many a woman that I would have happily strangled if I would have been able to get away with it.

My point is that men are "different." And by this I don't mean that they have genetic material unlike ours (which may also be true) but that they are MISSING genetic material. This missing genetic material is evident in the following examples:

Example 1: No man that I have ever known has ever been able to locate things in a pantry, refrigerator, closet, garage, cabinet, drawer or glove compartment. This, in spite of the fact that the thing they are looking for is sometimes right in front of their noses.

Example 2: Even a basketball star that can shoot a basket from way across the court cannot pee directly into the toilet right in front of him.

Example 3: They don't know how to ask directions.

Example 4: When they do something wrong, they do not say they are sorry. They instead head for the door and freedom, even though you just told them "If you leave don't bother coming back!" And that statement doesn't faze them because invariably they do come back, but they don't apologize, they just wear a cute pair of jeans with a nice white t-shirt, lots of cologne, and expect to be loved anyway.

Example 5: Although it's been well documented that they have opposable thumbs just like women, they are unable to do laundry, pick up after themselves, make beds, sort socks or fold towels correctly.

How do you 'splain that?

There are other examples but I won't go on and on.

The reason behind this rant:

Last weekend, things were going very well with BF2 (not to be confused with BF1, who despite being largely ignored, keeps calling). We had been invited to my friend's house for a barbecue. We were two couples, three single women (including my friend), and one single guy, all sitting around the table and enjoying our wine and dinner. My friend's friend is a tiny, skinny woman my age with a huge set of bazoongas. Needless to say, she gets a lot of masculine attention and I think she gets a kick out of this because it can't be a coincidence that the woman doesn't own even one turtleneck. All her tops are extremely low cut so that anyone who cares and even those who don't can get a panoramic and sweeping view of what looks like the Grand Canyon surrounded by Les Grandes Tetons, if you can picture that. If you can't, just fly to Miami, I'll make the necessary introductions.

Well, I've known Ms. DD for about six years and found her to be nice but kind of empty-headed, vain and insecure. My BF2 was sitting across from her at the table and we were all yapping about politics and I soon realized that he was talking only to HER. We were arguing about Hillary vs. Obama and such so we were all interacting, but BF2 was looking at Ms. DD and talking exclusively to her. She, of course, being the kind of person she is, was eating this up and asking him questions point-blank, like if he was a serious political analyst. I heard him answering her, "But, mi amor, everyone knows that Hillary blah blah blah..."

I think I am a secure woman. It did not faze me that he was not looking at me or in any way acknowledging my presence, even though I did make some of my own political observations, which he completely ignored. I have seen other men get "tharn" when looking at Ms. DD so I am used to this. But hearing him calling her "mi amor" like fifty times really ticked me off. To make an extremely long and possibly boring post (to you) a little shorter, he proceeded like this for the four and a half hours we were there. I could have sneaked away, taken off in my car and drove into the nearest canal and he would have been oblivious. Maybe he would even now be oblivious.

We left together, got in my car, drove home without saying word one, changed and went to bed. He was asleep 0.8 seconds after his head hit the pillow. I sat there in the dark with my eyes wide open. If it would have been a cartoon you would have seen only the whites of my eyes in the blackness (@@) for hours while dozens of logs were sawed on his side of the bed, until I finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, I got up early and was making breakfast. He got up, dressed and came into the kitchen asking me "What the heck" was wrong that I wasn't talking to him! I sat him down and had an earnest conversation about why I felt uncomfortable with his behavior. I went on to say that I have seen all kinds of fabulously handsome and interesting men around while I've been with him but that I was not going to go overboard, tripping over my feet to talk to these men and lavish attention on them while I was with him, etc. I won't list all the stuff I said but I did maintain my cool and told him I didn't appreciate him calling another woman "mi amor" while he ignored me for hours.

He apparently did not appreciate me not appreciating all he had done and he took off. This was Sunday morning and I have not heard from him since. Please note that I am not broken up over this or suffering or anything like that. I've been a big girl for a long time and so whatever... But the older I get the less I understand things.

I don't mean to offend good men here, just the mediocre ones.

Something my Son Said

Last night we were sitting outside on the front porch as we tend to do because we enjoy watching the traffic go by Also, our house faces east and we nightly watch the moon rise and dance around among the clouds and the palm fronds. There is a street light right across the street and we watch it too because it has its own mind and turns on when it damn well wants to and goes off when it wants to, too.

My boyfriend, my older son and I were sitting outside with our wine glasses after dinner, drinking what I like to call Zinfandel Blanc even though I believe the wine was bottled last week in California.

My son was telling us stories of his deployments. He doesn't always want to talk about his deployments, sometimes I've asked him a question and he just brushes me off. He wasn't in the mood to talk about those things. But last night he was talkative. His stories are always different and you can never tell if he's going to make you laugh or he's going to make you think "Oh God, I'm glad I didn't know what was happening over there."

He was telling us a story about when he was made platoon leader during his second deployment. He was picking who was going to do what in his platoon. And he said, "I immediately chose Smith because he was a senior Marine (meaning he had been in the Corps longer than the others) and he was still Lance Corporal. That could only mean that he wasn't an ass-kisser. So I chose him to be my right-hand man."

He's my son so I'm of course biased-and-beyond and adore and idolize him way more than is sensible. But in spite of being aware of my shortcomings as an objective observer, I felt so full of pride as I heard him say this. In two months he will be 23. At twenty-three he is smarter than most people I know. He is smarter than PhDs and people much older than he is by decades. He is way smarter than me and constellations smarter than I was at that age.

So we kept talking and laughing and sipping our wine outside while he told stories and my heart was just exploding in love and pride and awe at him.

Why Doesn't Fidel Just Die and Be Done With It?

At the very real risk of not having other exiled Cubans speak to me for the rest of my life, including my mother and other members of my family, I have to admit several things about our recently retired "Comandante," Fidel.

The guy had balls: At least at first, he had a good game, wanted to bring social justice to the island (which is not a bad thing), wanted Cuba to be completely independent from the US (much more difficult than it sounds but again not a bad thing), wanted to shake the foundations of decades of corrupt governments (not a bad th-, ok you get my drift), etc. How many heads of state have thumbed their noses at the US and maintained their stranglehold on their country? For almost five decades? Not too many. I do believe he beat Franco, didn't he? How about Duvalier?

Fidel stayed the course through thick and thin, never swayed from his views or beliefs. He did drastically raise the literacy rate in Cuba which was dismal before Castro, to say the least. He did open scores of rural schools and gave everyone access to health care. But that's about it for the list of good things he achieved.

On the other hand, he took a bustling economy and drove it to the ground. He nationalized everything, and destroyed the concept of private property for Cubans. Keep in mind that there are huge foreign conglomerates that own hotels, stores, businesses in Cuba, but Cubans are not allowed to own anything. There are even beaches to which Cubans are not allowed because they are open to tourism. They probably don't want vacationing foreigners to be approached and harassed by ragged, tattered, native Cuban people who would probably beg for handouts or try to hook up with one of the vacationers as a ticket out of their misery. How can a Cuban person not be allowed onto a Cuban beach? That to me is just illogical and stupid. And sad.

He leveled all salaries and possibilities for the Cuban people. I already admitted in the first paragraph that some of the things he did were not totally negative, but as anyone knows, if people work without an incentive such as a salary increase, a bonus, a promotion, something to look forward to, they will stop caring about their work. It's just human nature. Working for a cause will work for a while but then people get hungry and don't have money to buy food, or their car breaks down and they cannot afford another one (notice I didn't say a new one). Or they became a neurosurgeon because they are really smart but make the same salary as the guy who makes bricks in a factory. This is what happened to the Cuban people and I don't blame them.

He improved health care in the sense that everyone in Cuba can walk into a clinic and get treatment. But, guess what? You can get diagnosed but there is no medicine available for the Cuban people. Foreigners come to Cuba to have treatments or surgeries because we have some of the best doctors in the world, and health care is cheap there. The Cuban government makes money off them. But there are no medicines for Cuban people. Frequently there are shortages of toothpaste or soap or detergent, which is inconceivable.

I could go on and on about the stupidities of Castro's government. One of the worst is that no one can run for office if they are not members of the Communist Party. You can also be a brainiac and have perfect grades all through your schooling, but if you or your parents don't belong to the CP, you will not become a brain surgeon, EVER.

When I was 19 and living in Argentina, my parents and I took a flight back to Miami for a little vacation. We were traveling in first class along with four or five attaches or whatever you call them from the Cuban Embassy in Buenos Aires. They were getting off in Mexico City. While we were getting frantic letters from our relatives in Cuba that they needed vitamins, eyeglasses, razor blades, blood pressure medication, etc, these Cuban men were decked out in very expensive suits with gorgeous calfskin boots and Rolex watches, traveling first class. It made us sick and I will never forget that experience.

So, in effect, Fidel, what you did was crap. Just go ahead and die already.

On a positive note (I feel much better now, thank you), look at the beautiful island that is my birthplace. A friend sent me this satellite picture and I have always treasured it.

File under "Illogical Crap"

2007 was a tough year. Or should I say another tough year, since I've had tougher. But I got to thinking that maybe I should see what is delicately called a "counselor." Ok, people, we're talking about a therapist, a psychologist. someone who will listen, be objective, tell me that I worry too much or don't relax enough or that I need to give myself permission to send mean people to hell, that sort of thing. I don't like psychiatrists because I know that the first thing they will do is put me on Prozac or on a combination of Ritalin and Wellbutrin and ask me to smoke pot if I can find it. That would put me in the loony bin faster than I'm headed there on my own. I distrust the FDA when it comes to three things: Food, Drugs, and Administration. So the strongest thing I ever take is Extra-Strength Excedrin coupled with two cups of strong coffee. Does the work for me.

Oh yeah, I like Vick's VaporRub too, it works on asthma AND arthritis.

I asked around to see if anyone had any recommendations. I think that word-of-mouth is extremely important in making a decision of this kind. If I needed a surgeon, or a dentist, or a contractor, or a lawyer, the last thing I would do is to blindly pick one from the yellow pages. I have always been careful that way to get referrals, recommendations, etc before choosing any kind of professional or non-professional.

One of my friends suggested a practitioner in the pseudo-science of human behavior that she had frequented a few years back. My friend said that this practitioner, a female, had been an excellent therapist. She did not go for the lengthy "You lay on the couch blabbing and I will sit on the chair pretending to take note for eons until you come to some answers on your own" style of therapy. Instead, she asked a few questions and got to the point quickly, making recommendations and cutting to the quick. I thought to myself that this kind of psychologist would be a good thing, since I'm in my early fifties and don't want to be in my 90's before I attain psychological enlightenment. So I took her name and number and resolved to call to make an appointment.

But before I could call, the following happened: This recommended psychologist has a very uncommon last name and I asked one of my coworkers at the Thanksgiving Day Parade fame department store if she knew her since they shared the same last name. It turned out to be my coworker's sister! My coworker told me that her sister was indeed a brilliant psychologist, had her Ph.D. and had worked very hard to get her degree. And then my coworker went on to tell me that she (the psychologist) had had a lot of trouble in her life as well. First, she had gotten married about 15 years ago to her sweetheart of many years. After 5 years of marriage she caught her sweetheart, now her husband, in their bed with another guy. OK...Then she had divorced this person but they had remained good friends. A few years later she met another gentleman, dated for a couple of years, then married him and had two kids. Just recently, they had divorced because she (the psychologist) had discovered that her husband had a parallel family (wife and two kids) who lived about ten blocks away. OK...

I ask you: Would it be a good idea to put my convoluted little life in this person's hands? Would you not expect someone who is going to help you unravel issues in your life to be, well, um, more aware of stuff in her own life? More, I don't know, help me here, "normal?" Or maybe this stuff happens to everyone but what she would be helping me with would be more coping skills for dealing with stuff like this in my life? Well, yeah, I guess she would be great in that sense.