Check out my divot

Posted by random olio

My grandma loved watching golf. She would watch it most Saturday and Sunday afternoons. Over the many years I spent time with her, and eventually lived with her off and on, I learned quite a bit about golf rules. Somehow though I never played golf. I have been to driving ranges, and played my fair share of putt-putt, but a full round of golf has never happened in my life.

Last Friday I went golfing for the first time. Yes, can you believe it? I had an absolute blast, and so far I might be a new convert. It started out as a gorgeous afternoon and 70 degrees at the beginning of May, what Portlander would not be stoked to be outside? As you can tell by this picture, the sun eventually hid behind the clouds and it cooled off a bit. Still a perfect day for a nine holes of golf. I was with colleagues who were patient and taught me some of the basics (of course so many more things to learn). I now understand a bit more about an iron, driver, and a putter, and I think I quasi know when to use each club.

I even had one or two initial drives down the green. As you can see by the photo of me, not all swings were successful. Actually on most holes I tee’d off quite a few times before I actually hit the ball. The photo shows during that swing that I took quite a bit of earth, aka a large divot. Notice the chunk of mud/grass sitting on my ball. Yes, I may have no idea what I am doing, but at least I played with all power and zest. By the way, do not ask me how many different balls I used (and lost) in the course of nine holes.

I will definitely be visiting the driving range to practice, and would love to venture back this summer. Bring on the sunny days so I can see if the excitement is a short-lived adventure or if it is my new summertime exploration.

Any golf pointers for me?

“I only want to hang with my wife”

Posted by random olio

You know when you hear something and you think, “Hell yeah, or right on!” We were watching a clip of Ellen with Seth Rogen and he discusses one of his recent tweets:

“I really only want to hang out with my wife. I just want to watch Game of Thrones with my wife.” -Seth Rogen

10:14 PM – 21 Apr 2014

Um, hell yeah. I am not a Game of Thrones fan, but really this could read anything along the lines of, “I really only want to hang out with my wife [or husband]. I just want to watch [Scandal] or [The Good Wife] or [24] or [insert your favorite TV show]. I love thinking about how diligent we are with specific shows. There are plenty of shows that I would never watch that Chris loves and others I cannot watch for the mere fact that I would never, EVER get the story line out of my mind. This is how the scenario would play out:

I would wake up in the middle of the night and shake Chris and say, “I cannot sleep because that episode of 24 was just too real and is something going to happen at 3:00 AM when Jack does [insert whatever mayhem you want here]?”

Chris would then think something like, “I cannot say, “No.” because Tami does not do so well in the middle of the night when she really is not coherent and when I tell her something is not possible and it does not make sense to her well a lot of expletives spew out of her mouth.” He would then say to me something like, “Jack is safe at home with Chloe. All is good.” I would believe him and then go back to sleep.

So instead of watching shows together that I cannot even fathom watching (because of my never-shutting-down brain) we watch Scandal, Parenthood, Modern Family, The Good Wife, Orange is the New Black, and House of Cards, and I can sleep at night and all is well.

The next morning we will wake up and brush our teeth and say, “Can you believe what happened on Scandal last night?” or “I cannot believe we only have one more episode left of House of Cards, how are we ever going to wait a year to see the next season (you know all in one weekend like the rest of the world).” Is it sad to say that while we are watching our favorite television shows together, curled up on the couch together, that we are in some ways connecting? Yes. We are home together. We discuss what happens. We reflect on the storyline in relation to our own lives. Somehow we feel in a better place and, maybe, the world is in a better place.

Although after all that, the gist of Seth Rogen’s quote is really this: “I just want to hang out with my wife [or husband].” At the end of the day it is not about Game of Thrones, or Scandal, or Orange is the New Black. It is the fact that hubby’s want to be with wives, and vice versa. It is about snuggling on the couch or in the bedroom, toes touching, or legs intertwined, for that moment in time where spouses hang together. Life is never the same. We are never the same.

#lovemyhusband

Bring on the five year old me.

Posted by random olio

You know when you keep having a thought in your head, or a word that continues to come to you? Lately that word has been perfect, or perfection, or perfectionism. It has come up in my own life, and at work. Usually folks will say with pride: “I am a perfectionist.” Or they might say, “I am a perfectionist, but I do not look at that as a weakness, it is a strength of mine.” Whatever it means to each of us, the word has been on my brain. Thus, I am not sure why it took me so long to read Anna Quindlen’s book: “Being Perfect.” It is not a new book, it has been around about 9 years. Once you pick it up you can read it in about 15 minutes. All 48 pages are full of black and white photos. To me this is the best quote of the entire book:

“Give up the nonsensical and punishing quest for perfection that dogs too many of us through too much of our lives. It is a quest that causes us to doubt and denigrate ourselves, our true selves, our quirks and foibles and great heroic leaps into the unknown. Much of what we were at five or six is what we wind up wishing we could be at fifty or sixty.” page 44-45

There are times when I think trying to be perfect holds us back from relishing the life we are living that very moment. There are countless times when I have to make something look just right, or finish up that task, or make sure my house is clean before I can do x, y, or z. I have blogged before about how much my surroundings need to be organized in order for me to be creative, but what if that is only the result of wanting things a certain way and, dare I say, that certain way is to have everything in its place? Does that make me a perfectionist?

I am sure there are loads of studies that have already been done about perfectionism. I am not going to look them up. I am not going to do any research. I am also not going to feel bad about who I am or where I like to have order in my life. At the moment it works for me as long as I am aware of what I am doing and I do not let my ways get in the way of potentially missing out on an adventure, or a “leap into the unknown.” Yes, I will have to be quite aware of when I think I am not going to do “that thing” because it might be messy, or because it is something new and uncomfortable.

I am going to embrace the five-year old me. Bring it on!

Ten things about my dad

Posted by random olio

My sister and a good friend just had babies in the last two months. It is fun watching (well I guess more through pictures at the moment) and thinking about Chris being a father someday. It has also prompted me to be reflective about my relationship with my own father. It was not really a rock-solid relationship. We had hard times, we had good times, but through it all we had memories. Here are a few remembrances of my dad:

If I knew I would lose him at such a young age, I would have kept all the letters he wrote to me on Christmas Eve (aka Santa who ate my cookies and drank the egg nog). Of course we left out egg nog for Santa, my dad LOVED his egg nog. The letters from Santa though, I guess I got rid of them, and they were the few letters I had from my dad. It would have been fun today to hear his wisdom. Especially during a holiday he loved. I am positive his letters probably shared his best self.
I wish he had been here long enough to meet Chris. He would have inadvertently taught him about construction. Chris would have picked up things quickly and learned to leave the truly professional jobs for the professionals.
He would have fun talking to Chris about cars. His “Automobile Quarterly” was a cherished possession. The two of them would geek out, although he would probably talk Chris’ head off with his endless stories of growing up on his Dad’s car lot.
The only movie I can remember seeing with him is, “Who Framed Roger Rabbit.” Seriously? What was he thinking? Bad movie, Dad.
His blue pickup truck was, well honestly, a piece of shit, but it was his truck and it contained all of his endless notes, crappy construction items, odd-shaped pencils, tape measures, clipboards, and what I will never forget, the device you could wire to the horn and play my favorite ever – the Dukes of Hazzard theme song. How cool I thought it was to have that blaring from the truck as we drove down the street.
I wish I knew I had a short time with him. I would have gotten over the grudge I held for so long. Not that it would have been easy for him, but I would have made us talk through our differences.
I do not remember it as much as a kid, but as I got older and saw him less and less, he seemed to show his emotion more and more. If only that had started earlier on in my life. If only.
He was a good/big hugger. Maybe that is where I get it from.
He had an addiction to Ritz crackers and peanut butter. I do not share this addiction. It just makes me think of sandpaper and glue. Dry and sticks to your mouth. Lime chips are where it is at! Wish I could spoil him with my addiction.
He would have loved iPhones. Not for the email, or phone, but for the games. If he knew you could play Cribbage, Euchre, Scrabble, Solitaire, I can imagine how unproductive he would have become. I think he would have played me from wherever he would be living.

I admire you Madison Kimrey

Posted by random olio

Madison Kimrey is a 12-year old girl. If all of us had the guts and bluntness Madison had at the age of 12, the world would be a better place. Madison wrote a letter to Phyllis Schlafly, who is an outspoken activist and is against modern feminism, and the Equal Rights Amendment. This is an excerpt from her letter to Phyllis Schlafly that especially resonates with me:

“At a time in their lives when they should be free, independent, and exploring and preparing for the possibilities they have in the future, many of them are worried about getting or keeping a boyfriend. There are young women my age who are extremely smart but they hide it because they get messages from women like you that if they are too smart or successful, boys won’t like them. They get messages from women like you that pleasing a man should be their number one goal. You’re contributing to making young women uncomfortable when they go bra shopping because they’ve learned to analyze every choice based on what other people will think instead of having the freedom and confidence to choose what’s best for them.”

Hell yeah, Madison. I do not think I could have said it better. Seriously. Spot on.

The funny part is that while Madison is speaking to her 12-year-old age range, it never stops. This excerpt from her letter could be read about 25 year olds, even 35 year olds. Her mention of bra shopping is to find a commonality with Phyllis and she uses the analogy of bra shopping to relate specifically to her. We all come in different shapes and sizes, and we all should have the choice to find the bra that unique fits us and our lifestyle. She says: “Equality doesn’t mean women will all make the same choice. It means women will be treated the same no matter what choices they make.” I may have had a paper route, sold thousands of boxes of girl scout cookies, took care of my mom at the age of twelve, but I could never have eloquently went off on a conservative political activist.

Be sure to click the link above to read her full letter. Think of it as taking the time for feminists today of all ages. You are a badass, Madison, and I hope parents all over share your letter with their daughters. May they learn from you.