30somethingandsearching

Do you read the obituaries?

I find this to be a fascinating pastime. 

I have never read the obituaries other than if someone I knew passed away and I was looking for the wake/funeral information.

My mom, however, reads them in Wednesday’s and Sunday’s Chicago Tribune every week.

photo credit: Chicago Tribune

This is not something that she has just started to do as she’s reached the AARP age bracket.  She has always done this.

I asked her why, because to me it is quite morbid.  She says she is looking for people she might know.  Sometimes someone passes and their family wouldn’t know or think to contact her. 

Well, that is still very morbid, but okay.  I guess that makes sense.

What is weird is that she doesn’t just skim for names she recognizes, she reads those for people she doesn’t know.

photo credit: blakcat at flickr

She frequently points out names of people, the length of the entry, what their life was like, how many grandchildren they left behind, etc.

The other day she pointed out two small children that died.  One a 3 year old and the other an 8 year old.  She read the entire entry and was teary eyed.  Well, yes, this is very sad and I am sorry for their families.  I am not trying to be insensitive to them.  I just find it an odd pastime.

Especially for someone who has very little time to herself.  Though, maybe that helps her relax or stay focused on what she does every day caring for my uncle. 

Do you or anyone you know read the obituaries regularly?

My mom came home the other day and told me that a friend of ours is getting divorced.  It was a bit of a shock to us.  Like most marriages seem to outsiders, things were good.  They had been married for about 15 years. 

The reason they are getting divorced is because he cheated.  With his secretary. 

It’s always the secretary. 

She confronted the secretary; she admitted and apologized because she never meant for this to happen, but she told the wife other things that the husband has not, such as it is still going on.

     photo credit: womansavers.com

The husband wants to work things out, but the secretary says they are still having an affair, so the wife has already started the divorce process.

I’m sad for her, but I am more sad for her 4 kids.

I am the product of divorce and the cause for that divorce is multiple affairs.  My father couldn’t keep his pants on.  He was caught once and my mom forgave him.  He was stupid enough to bring one of the bimbos to our house when my mom was visiting her parents.  The neighbors saw and told her.  Second time caught and that was the end. 

I was 4 when they divorced.

Because of their divorce, and the reason for their divorce, I’ve always been apprehensive about the thought of marriage.  Until I was in my mid-twenties, I flat out refused to ever get married. 

Who wants to set themselves up for that kind of pain? 

Not me, that’s for sure.

Then I started seeing friends and family enter marriages that appeared to be strong and healthy. 

My sister and my brother-in-law were a good fit from the beginning.  Though he can annoy me at times, I think he is a good guy and I don’t think he would cheat on my sister.  Despite the fact that he has many similarities to my father, I think he is a better man than my father ever was. 

Plus, he has had his life threatened, prior to their wedding, if he ever hurt her.  I think he knows us well enough to believe we would follow through.

Then one of my best friends got married around the same time.  They seemed to be a perfect match too.  Their relationship, combined with my sister’s, made me start to think maybe the idea of marriage wasn’t so bad.  Maybe there are men that are honest and good.

Then, he left without explanation.  She pointed out phone numbers she didn’t recognize and I called all unknown numbers until we determined he was cheating.  He is still with that woman over 6 years later. 

It worked out okay for her in the end as she is married and has 2 kids now, but I saw it tear her apart. 

And I began doubting the male species once again.

My other best friend married a few years later.  I met her husband and fell in love with him.  Not the way she fell in love with him, but I fell in love with the kind of man he is. 

I adore him.  He’s a good ole boy from Louisiana.  The fact that he is from New Orleans (my favorite place) was enough for me to like him before I even met him, but his character blew me away. 

I have a penchant for southern boys.  Probably because my grandpa was a good ole southern boy.  There is just a level of respect and loyalty that often comes with southern men.  From what I know of him and the man he is, I really don’t believe he would ever cheat on her.

However, there have been others whom I never thought would be the type to cheat.  Men that seem to adore or even worship their wives.  Men that love their wives and would never leave them yet, some of them have no qualms cheating.  I have been surprised many times by men I never thought would cheat only later to find out that he cheated and/or they are divorcing.

It makes me wonder if all men cheat. 

I have heard the bull cocky about the animal instinct to spread their seed or the inability for humans to be monogamous.  I don’t buy that.  Yet all around me, there is evidence of men who cannot seem to control themselves. 

I understand that in most cases, there was some obvious issue in the marriage that created an unhappy atmosphere, which caused him to stray.  Even so, the man should be a man and say so making an attempt to resolve that issue. 

So, I ask, do all men cheat and only some get caught? 

It makes me wonder if I should even consider marriage anymore.  I don’t know if I could handle that kind of betrayal.

I don’t watch The View.  I used to, I admit, but I just can’t handle Elisabeth Hasselbeck.  I can’t handle the arguing that ensues and the way they talk over each other.  I can’t stand the way I feel after watching it: angry and tense.  So, I stopped watching it, even though I adore Whoopi. 

I also rarely watch Access Hollywood anymore.  I happened to catch the episode on Tuesday January 13 while eating a quick dinner.  They were showing a clip from Monday’s (January 12) episode of The View with Ann Coulter and discussed the “aftermath” with her.  Coulter was apparently plugging her book on the show.  Barbara Walters read a bit of it and set the ladies off.

The bit that was read basically said that single mothers are to blame for crime because they raise criminals, which didn’t sit well with the ladies.  Another topic they “discussed” was celebrities who are half-Black and half-White, like Halle Berry, who were raised by their White mothers, yet they identify as being Black.

Ann seems to take offense to this. 

I’m glad I didn’t see this episode because I would have been furious.  My mom raised my sister and me as a single mother.  Neither of us are criminals.  There are many, many people raised by single mothers who are productive, respected human beings, never having committed a crime.

I also don’t quite understand why Coulter is concerned with the way someone identifies themselves.

  photo credit from a really great piece: http://www.theamericanview.com/index.php?id=936 

Since she is obsessed, I have to wonder why.  I am guessing there is some supremacy aspect to her.

I have many comments to this topic.

Why does it matter how someone identifies himself or herself? 

Perhaps the reason they identify as Black is because their complexion is darker and to the outside world, that is what they are. 

Have you ever noticed the way some people focus on someone’s race when they can’t figure it out?  If it is not obvious, they ponder it.  Because someone like Halle Berry is a lighter complexion and has smaller features, people aren’t sure “what they are.”

I hear this from my mom often.  “What do you think she is?” 

Perhaps the reason they identify as Black is because the media focuses on that and waits until the celebrity tells us, like Tiger Woods did, or they just decide for them.

Perhaps they are conditioned.  By White America.  If you know history, there once was a one-drop rule.  Meaning, one drop of Black blood would identify that person on census reports as Black.  Perhaps this has simply carried over to the way people automatically view themselves and others.

It is doubtfully a snub toward their White family, especially if they were raised by a White mother.  I’ve only ever heard celebrities of mixed race speak well of the family who raised them. 

Let’s put this in perspective a bit.

I’m 90% White.  Whatever that means, right?  I’m mostly Irish, but there is some Scottish, French, German, Bohemian and probably a few other things I don’t know about.  The other 10% is Native American. 

I identify as White.  Because I look it.  If someone says, “what are you,” depending on whether they want the full or abridged version, I tell them all of the above or I just say Irish.

It’s just easier to say one answer.  It doesn’t mean I am not proud of my Native American ancestry.  I am.  It’s just simpler to say Irish than to spew off all the aspects of my heritage.

My best friend is half-Chinese and half-Irish (and a few other things).  She identifies as Asian on those little boxes we have to fill out.  She would like to check White or Caucasian AND Asian, but she isn’t given that option.  She is only given the option to choose one. 

I imagine that is where a lot of people have had to make the decision as to how they should identify.  The government puts us into those little boxes and we are only allowed to choose one.

So, could it be due to the census reports? 

It could be any of the above or all of the above or something entirely different.

I don’t understand why it matters how someone chooses to identify.  That is their personal choice.  I don’t know why someone else would care or take offense or even think they have the right to question that choice.

What frustrates me more than anything is that as a country, we are trying to move away from race and that racial divide.  Then there are people like Ann Coulter who not only seem to enjoy the racial divide, but appear to perpetuate and further that divide.

Shame on her.

I went with my mom to do some Christmas shopping.  Actually, I felt like her elf carrying everything around.  I didn’t need to do any shopping and she was looking for gifts for my grandma and uncle to give to several people. 

At one point, she told me to go away for a while.  That was her subtle way of telling me she needed to shop for me, so scram. 

I went out into the mall and sat on a bench to wait.  I happened to be facing an area with those little rides for kids.  There were several boys over there climbing all over them.  None of them had fed the machine the quarter(s) to make them go (it used to be a quarter, it’s probably $2 now), they were just climbing and jumping off them.  They were all car or bulldozer rides.

I couldn’t help but wonder why all kids are fascinated by them.  All kids see them and zero in, begging for a ride.  It’s not like they do anything exciting.  They just move back and forth slowly.

But all kids love them.  Why?

Then, suddenly, I had a flashback to my childhood.  I too loved these things.  They were different when I was a kid.  Usually, they were horses to ride; pretending that you were a jockey racing a horse to the finish.

I used to beg to go on them.  I will admit that I never felt fulfilled afterward, which might be why I wanted more. 

I usually got to ride these quarter horses (pardon the pun there) in Kentucky during the summers I spent with my grandparents.  The interesting thing is that my grandparents’ owned racehorses.  You would think I didn’t need to ride a plastic electric horse, but I loved it. 

To be honest, I never really was allowed to ride my grandpa’s horses.  They were racehorses and he always said, only the jockey could ride them.  He did have a few that weren’t racehorses, which he rode sometimes, but we couldn’t ride them alone.  I remember once riding when my aunt was visiting.  She could ride well, so she had me in front of her and took off on that horse.  Scared the crap out of me. 

The quarter horses were too slow, but the thoroughbred was too fast. 

Yet, I continued to want to ride those rides.

I know they put those rides in malls to “entertain bored kids” (really, it is just to sucker a few bucks out of the parents).  The horses I rode were outside the grocery stores.  Even if a child has never seen one, they immediately are drawn to it and beg for a ride. 

What is it about items we have to put quarters into?  Rides, video games (old school arcade games, that is) and gumball machines.  Children are drawn to them all.  I was one of them.  I bet you were too.

Have you seen the Snuggie ?  “The Blanket With Sleeves.”

I’ve seen the commercials for this many times and have recently received spam in my inbox about this product.

Now when I first saw the commercial, I watched curiously.  Then I laughed. 

Really?  Do we need a blanket with sleeves? 

The commercial brags that this product is so great because not only is it a warm blanket to keep you feeling cozy, but because it has sleeves; you don’t have to take your arms out from under the blanket.  You can sew, watch tv, read a book, hold a baby, eat; you can even get up and go to the kitchen without your arms getting cold!

Sounds great, doesn’t?  Sounds like just what you need on a cold winter night, right?

During the commercial, they show a person walking around with this wonderful blanket.  The back end is open like a hospital gown, so I would think your backside would get cold, but better your butt than your arms, right?

Here is my question:

Isn’t this just a robe worn backwards?

Why do they call them PET peeves?

Pet peeves are thing that you can’t stand.  Aren’t pets usually something you enjoy?  If you have a pet, you picked it, brought it home, cared for it and loved it.  You chose to have the pet.  It might get on your nerves sometimes, but you chose to get and keep it, so, why call it a pet peeve?

The term teacher’s pet suggests favoritism, so why a PET peeve? 

I’ve done a search to try to figure it out.  Wikipedia, Answers.com, Dictionary.com, etc all give the same basic definition.  Something that irritates you as an individual; something that drives you crazy that may seem irrational to others.  Okay, well, we knew that. 

But why is it called a PET peeve?  The best understanding of it I can muster is that among all the things that annoy you, this one particular thing annoys you the most, meaning it is your favorite, or pet, annoyance.

While I grasp the concept, it still seems like an oxymoron to me.  Your favorite annoyance?  Really?  Wouldn’t it be your least favorite?  If it annoys you the most, it is the one you like the least. 

While searching the term, it is listed as an “Americanism” which, as much as I love my country, explains a lot.  We have a lot of terms that have been entered into the dictionary as words and phrases that just do not make sense or hurt my ears. 

Perhaps it’s the English degree, but these types of things are, well, my pet peeves.

I have often heard people speak of their biggest regret or talk of things they’d do differently if they could go back.

For a long time, I felt this way too.  I would have not said that to her, or I would have put up a bigger fight with him or I would have made a different decision on that.

Then I started to feel consumed by regret.  I was being swallowed by my past.

The thing with regrets is that they are pointless.

You CAN’T change the things you have done, so let it go.  We’ve all done things we are not proud of.  Being sorry for the mistakes and possible hurt you caused is sufficient. 

Holding onto it, feeling regret for something a decade or more later does no one any good.

What I have learned is that every action in our past makes us who we are.  If you had the opportunity to go back and change something in your past, you would alter who you are now and who is in your life.  Not to mention the person you will become.

Mistakes and adversity are not bad.  Your choices and experience might have made your life or others’ lives more difficult, but they are part of life.  They teach us lessons and develop us as human beings.

This goes for all people. 

Someone might have supported a bad organization 40 years ago and believed it was good then, but realized with age, time and life lessons that it was a horrible decision.  They are sorry, but it is in the past.

Someone might have supported a policy that they thought would improve several people’s lives and protect certain freedoms, only to later realize they were wrong.  They learned and moved on.

Someone might have thought that telling a loved one they were fat and making them feel badly about themselves would help them get motivated to lose weight and be healthy.  They later realized it not only did the opposite, but hurt that person deeply and caused a rift in their relationship.

Someone might think being negative or hitting their child was an effective parenting technique, but learned later, when the damage was already done, that they were wrong. 

Someone might feel horrible about the things they did in the past and the pain they caused.

You cannot change what you have done in the past, you can only learn from it and do better.

I have been reading some of the blog posts over at Mosaic Moments and over at Motherhood Unscripted about children with Mosaic Downs Syndrome and Downs Syndrome.

Yesterday, at Mosaic Moments, I read one about a woman who gave birth earlier this year thinking everything was fine, but was then given the diagnosis for her baby.  She mentioned feeling that her baby was perfect before they told her that her daughter has MDS.

This got me thinking.

To me, all babies are perfect.  Now, I am not an extremely religious person.  I do have my faith, though, and I am very spiritual.  That said, I don’t think God makes mistakes.  I think that all children are born the way God intended.  What some might find to be a flaw or a problem, I think is the grand design.

I do know that some illnesses or diseases that children can have can be devastating to the family and can be very challenging to handle, physically, mentally and emotionally.

I also believe that everything happens for a reason and as it is meant to.  Even the bad stuff.  Especially the bad stuff.  We are given challenges and tests every day, so the devastation that can come with some illnesses and diseases are part of that.  Not a punishment, as some think, but a challenge to overcome.

I hope this doesn’t come across as me making light, because that is not the intent.

I do realize that for some families, the challenge can be more than they can handle.

I also think that those challenges are not intended solely for that family.  They are for all of us.  Not to sound like we should all join hands and sing kumbaya, but we are supposed to be a community.  We are supposed to help and care for each other, especially when someone is facing a difficult time.

I have heard stories, though of the opposite.  Of people putting down families and children with special needs.  It’s bad enough when another child acts this way, but when an adult acts this way, it is disgusting.  From children with autism to MD to DS, people need to not only learn to show some understanding and respect, but also to lend a hand or word of encouragement from time to time.

A friend of mine was telling me about a friend’s daughter.  This little girl is “perfect” except she has a port-wine stain on her face, which is really just a large red birthmark.  It is over her eye, forehead and cheek; it is quite large.  The mother was devastated when she saw this at the baby’s birth.  The baby is one now and is having laser treatment to remove the mark.

The mom is very self-conscious and sensitive about this.  It think, as many parents do, she blames herself.  It does not help that when they are in public, random strangers approach her and ask what is wrong with her baby.

First, nothing is wrong, she has a birthmark.  Second, how ignorant is that?  To walk up to someone you don’t know and say, “hey, what’s wrong with your kid?’

I’ve said it before, but I am often shocked by the ignorance of people.  Not only is asking what is wrong with her baby rude, it is hurtful.  It is hurtful to any parent to imply that their child is wrong.  Whether it’s a birthmark or something more serious.

It can also be damaging to that child.  Do you think they don’t hear you?  Do you think they don’t understand that you think something is wrong with them?  Do you think they don’t ingest that and feel badly about themselves?

I know that I would lose my patience with such questions and turn around to ask what is wrong with them.

I have seen people fly off the handle if someone asks how old their child is and why they are still using a pacifier or a bottle.  So, what makes you think that asking about a birthmark or disease in such a negative tone is less offensive?  I know many people would prefer that strangers come up to them and politely ask what happened if they are disabled rather than the staring or whispering.  I imagine that parents of children with some kind of difference would prefer the same politeness.

Stumble It!

There is no escaping the fact that we are in the age of technology.  We cannot get away from some advanced form of communication.  Nearly everyone has a cell phone, whether for emergency, social or career purposes.

Not only do we rely heavily on cell phones to talk to friends, family, co-workers and clients, text messaging has moved up as the main mode of communication.  However, there are occasions in which it is inappropriate to use the text message feature at all or in place of a phone call.

Most likely, you have some experience with or have read some articles about this.  I have come across articles stating that text messaging is used to break dates or even break-up a relationship.  I have even heard of people texting to their spouse that they are filing for divorce.

I have read articles discussing the use of text messaging instead of the phone in the early stages of dating as well.  I have heard of people using texting for affairs and in place of phone sex.  I have also read about (and seen people in action) the problem of texting while driving and the obvious dangers.

I have experienced people I know text messaging incessantly during a conversation, which is obviously rude because if you are with someone having a chat, you should be focused on that conversation, not trying to have one with someone under the table.  I have experienced people trying to text while driving, or while walking which seems to be just as dangerous.

On my birthday, I received a couple of birthday text messages.  One was from a friend, yet we are not that close, so it was acceptable to me that she sent me a text, even more so because the majority of our communication is through texting.  Another was from a close friend, though she did call later.  If it had been a situation where I only received a text from a close friend, I would have been upset.

What do you consider crossing the line with texting?  What is the worst thing you have done or had done to you via texting?

Stumble It!

We all know that as we get older, we become like our parents.  Sometimes to our chagrin, but nevertheless, we turn into our parents.

Whether genetics or learned behavior, we pick things up from the people raising us.

Anything from hand-gestures, pronunciation of certain words, beliefs, habits and ticks, the way we raise our children and other traits can be blamed on or attributed to our parents.

One thing I had never considered to be included in this was the way we drive.

It makes sense, though.  We sit in the car as children and we witness the way our parents sit, obey laws (or not), signal and hold the wheel.

Today, I was running errands when I realized that I was driving like my father.

My parents are divorced and I didn’t spend a lot of time with my dad as a kid, but when I did, it was generally in the car.

I wouldn’t say I picked up any of his driving habits as a whole, but today, the way I was holding the steering wheel was just like him.

When I take longer trips (more than 5 miles), I am very relaxed in the way I hold the wheel, generally at the bottom and/or with one hand.  Shorter trips, like the one I took today, I drive like my father.  Both hands about 4 inches apart gripping the top of the wheel firmly.

He ALWAYS drove like this.  He never seemed to be comfortable or relaxed behind the wheel.  He always drove very intently and intensely.   I do no drive that way, but on short trips, I hold the wheel like him.

Do you drive like your parents in any way, or is it just me?  (Hey, I never denied that I am odd, so it’s entirely possible that it’s just me!)

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