Coffee Break

Sometime after lunch
But before the end of the day
A moment
To take a quick
Breather
From the work
From the aggravation
To discuss
Politics
Family
Sociological Quandaries
Work
A walk around the block.
A journey to the local
Coffee purveyor.
Chocolate for a weary soul.
All an excuse to vent
And talk to each other
One-on-one
Away from the eavesdropping
Ears
In a more private place.

The routine is established
The invitees can change but
Are usually the same duo.
Those few moments become more
Important than
The eight plus hours
In a cubicle
In front of a computer.

Never Trust a Man Who…

Waxes his eyebrows. I know that seems completely random. But it’s not. Let me explain how I’ve come to this philosophy.

The Mexican (a.k.a. my hubby) once mentioned this guy in the neighborhood who he talked to almost every day. He had said that his guy was friendly and nice. And he certainly seemed that way through my husband’s descriptions and through the retelling of their conversations.

Said person gave my husband some advice too. This guy seemed nice and all. One day the Mexican told said person to watch out for someone. At this point I was a little wary. I’m of the opinion that you can’t always warn people about others. They may or may not take your advice. Or they could simply have a different relationship with that person. You just can’t ever really tell where someone’s sympathies lie. Regardless, things were fine and dandy.

Then the day finally came where I met said person. My first impression was ‘I can’t trust a guy who waxes his eyebrows’. A man who takes particular pains to make sure his eyebrows are perfectly waxed is not a person who is looking out for anybody but themselves and their appearance. The description that my husband had created was completely shattered the minute I met this guy. That doesn’t sit too well with me.

Of course later that night I told the Mexican to chill on the friendship a bit. I could really see this guy stabbing my hubby in the back just so that mr. eyebrows (f.k.a. said person) would get ahead. Mind you, no one should look like Bert with unyieldy eyebrow hair that creates bridge across one’s forehead. But either you tweeze them or trim them…severly waxing them seems odd and untrustworthy. So, that’s my lesson for the day.

Circus Act

I’m sure you were thinking with a title like this that I would go into a rant about work. But no! I’m actually going to talk about the circus. Talking about work is more ridiculous than the circus.

I love Cirque du Soleil. I’ve seen a number of their shows and find them mesmerizing! I’m astounded by the contortionists being able to move their bodies in various poses without the sound of snapping bones. It’s incredibly intriguing. I always find these acts to be the most painful and yet I can’t help but stare at them. It’s the morbid fascination of the human body.

There are those acts that seem to exist solely to make me nervous:
The High Wire People
The Balancing on a Stack of Chairs Guy, etc.
I watch them and bite my nails with the hope that they will not fall.

Then there are the jugglers. I am utterly awestruck by them at times. How they can train their hands to follow their eyes and never let anything fall? I can barely walk on my two feet without crashing into something and getting a bruise.

But the people I love the most are the acrobats. The people who fly through the air with sticks attached to their feet or from seesaws. The freedom they must sense that I can never feel. I used to be a gymnast and I only got so far. But the feeling of having the wind flow through your hands and having your body twist and turn in mid-air must be exhilarating. I guess part of the beauty of the circus is wishing you could do what they do. At least it seems that way for me.

And which act does my husband love the best? The clowns! Why? Because they make him laugh. His laughter at watching them is very contagious. I think he likes them best because he’s a clown as well. He enjoys making people laugh.

So while he invigorated by the laughter he produces in others, I think of the freedom of the flight of those acrobats.

Amazing

Staring at him
While he sleeps
I’ve looked at that
Same face
For years
Almost every day
And behind it
All
I have no clue
What goes on in
That head
In his mind.
There are times
When this unknown
Makes me want to kill
Him
And other times
When I don’t care
The creases
In his face
The wrinkles
Why are they there?
When he doesn’t
Seem to care about a thing
What put them there?


Does he realize the
Trouble
He creates for me
At times
The confusion
The insecurity
The frustration
I must do the same to him
So maybe I’ve
Created those
Creases
Wrinkles
In his face
As he’s created them in
Mine.

The Visitor

My mother-in-law (m-i-l) just spent 3 weeks visiting. I know, I know. Most of you are probably squirming at the thought; while others bristle at the idea of having any house guest for 3 weeks. Luckily it was a pleasant visit for the most part.

My m-i-l is a very thoughtful and wonderful house guest. She came for a vacation and did her best to go out and enjoy herself in the Big Apple. We had an occasional planned event with her, a dinner here and there but mostly she is very independent. I find that I can talk to her more directly than I can my own mother. She’s a very funny and smart woman and I totally respect her.

That said, 3 weeks is a long time and I’ve been thinking of all the conversations and happenings now. I find that I can’t even recall a lot of what we talked about and it’s important to do so. Why you might ask? It’s helpful to figure out some things about relationships – namely between me and my husband. But also, to help my husband understand his family and their relationships.

I suppose as usual that I spend a lot of time thinking about relationships in general. I think it’s important because you can always learn a lot about yourself by looking at how you handle/deal/relate to others.

What the best part of having my m-i-l come to visit? Getting a thank you card, sneakily left on our table as we left for the airport, thanking me for being me. It’s something my mom would never have the guts to tell me in spoken or written form. She’d rather just make me feel like a horrible person.

Dental Hygiene

Recently I went to the dentist to get some fillings fixed. I know, you are all very interested in this post because dentists make everyone happy! Skip onto something else if you need to but bear with me because I’m pretty sure my opinions are shared by many.

In this technological day and age, I find it incredibly hard to believe that dentistry still hasn’t advanced much. Drills are the same as they used to be. They are still these little metal tools that rip away at your enamel. Perhaps the way to numb the tooth is a little different now but the essential dental implement is the same. You’d think by now that they could drill through teeth with lasers or something? What about those weird picks to take away tartar? Scrape scraping away at the gums. Shouldn’t there be a simpler way to take care of that?

It seems so odd to me because my dentist (who I happen to really like a lot) has all these nifty gadgets to tell me about my teeth but the tools to take care of them are still very much the same as when I was a youngling. Why is that?

And most importantly, why does Novocain taste so horribly? After all these years of flavoring toothpaste and floss, why does Novocain still taste like a poisonous old sock? Can’t they find a way to make that more pleasant since the rest of the dental visit hasn’t changed much since the dawn of man??

Lost and Found

You probably can’t tell from my blog but I love dogs. I have two of my own and often contemplate adding to my canine joys. Almost every weekend I make time for my doggies by bringing them on a long walk and taking them to the local dog run. Sometimes both of them come along but most of the times, it’s just Foxy (the bigger and younger of my two dogs).

Usually when I go to the dog run I stand around and watch her play with her doggie play friends. But one particular day, I decided to sit on one of the benches on the side because I was very tired. We walked into the dog run and Foxy went to play and I made my way to relaxation. After a bit, Foxy started to look for me and she couldn’t find me standing around. She began to walk around the dog run looking for me but never completely noticing where I was. I assumed she was looking for a stray squirrel so I had no idea what she was up to. As she continued frantically to look at all the human faces and not seeing a familiar one, I realized she thought she lost me.

So I gave her the ‘come-to-momma’ cue and she placed the sound to the location. Upon seeing me, she charged towards me and jumped on top of me that I fell back on the bench. She proceeded to kiss my face and paw me all over. It was a bit insane but sweet. Every other owner noticed this and laughed and awed at the vision. From that moment on, Foxy didn’t let me out of her sight. When the other dogs came looking for her, she didn’t want anything to do with them. She only wanted her momma. She sat at my feet and didn’t budge. I petted her and kissed her knowing how much she loved me.

This was definitely one of those moments when I was truly impressed by the love that dogs have for their masters. I’ve seen moments when both my dogs have known that either my husband or I were sick and they sat by our side for companionship. Often my dogs will get a jealous streak if I pay attention to one more than the other. But I’d never seen such panic on a dog’s face such as what Foxy experienced that day when she lost and then found me again. It goes to show you that animals have complex emotions too.

Alphabet Soup

Recently I got an email at work that was signed by the sender and attached to his name were a bunch of letters. Now if I didn’t know any better, I’d think this guy had his pet cat walk on the keyboard when he wasn’t looking. Luckily I knew what these letter combinations meant since they are used on a regular basis in the daily business jargon with which I work.

But what if I didn’t know what they meant? What would I surmise by looking at AVP, MBA, PMP after someone’s name. Absolutely Valuable Person, Mighty Big Airhead, Please Meet Pat?? I mean, really? What does this combination of letters really mean to me, regardless of whether I am familiar with the acronyms or not? It means you are a pompous self-absorbed jerk.

Have a great day!

Balancing the Scales

Staring at the cold metal
Will this be bliss or
Another letdown?
Depression
Needing to eat massive amounts of food
To calm the sadness deep
Inside of my bones.

How can those numbers be true?
It just doesn’t seem likely
That those digits
Correspond to me.
That they equal me!
I don’t see that immense
Number
When I look
In the mirror.

What is going on here?
Is that why he looks
At others?
Why I feel so horrible
About myself
At times.
That I’m not
Good enough
Pretty enough
Sexy enough
To be on this planet.

Ah no,
It’s not the scale.
It’s the broken glasses
On the lens through
Which the world sees
Women.

Follow the Leader

I have a problem with authority. I’ve always suspected this about myself. However, it was confirmed during a recent crash course in Argentine Tango.

Due to an overabundance of women to men in the class, many of the women had to play both the part of the leader and the follower at different instances. Needless to say, when I lead, everything was ok. When I was the follower, many people told me that I had to wait for them to act first. Well, I thought to myself “then do something!!!” I wasn’t in the class to stand still.

Then there were others who told me not to do stuff and I got annoyed with that. See, I pay the teacher to correct me. I didn’t pay them to criticize me. You know??

I also don’t think that men (who get to be the leaders in this situation all the time) know what it’s like to be a follower. If you can’t figure out what I need to do, how I will respond to your cues etc, then maybe you shouldn’t be a leader!

I’m sure I have more to write about this topic but I’m just too annoyed right now.