“Your lists keep us together.”

Posted by random olio

Over the weekend we are driving into Portland for some brunch, errands, and my favorite–an artisan craft fair. While multi-tasking on my iPhone I say something about adding something to our list for the day, and then mumble: “you must love my lists” (noted in a sarcastic tone). His response: “Your lists keep us together.”

I will remind you (in case you are not aware). Chris is a relatively quiet guy. He does not talk if he does not have anything to say, and often I have to pry his thoughts out of him. So when I got this long response, I quickly grabbed a pen and pad of paper from the glove box (because quite frankly I am old school and I cannot type that fast on my iPhone).

The rest of the conversations goes like this…quotes are Chris’ words:

“There are 2.5 things we fight about – whenever we fight – which is rare:

My lack of follow through or lack of communication.

Your hunger tantrums – aka when you are “hangry.”

#3 is really 2.5, as it only gets really 1/2 a point in my mind… When you comment on my driving.

Your lists are what keep us together. It keeps us on the same page. So keep adding items to your lists, keep tracking as you do.”

Not only was that a succinct quote from my hubby, it was also very profound. He is right. We rarely fight and it usually is over something that was not communicated, or miscommunicated, or my biggest pet peeve of all is lack of follow through. I am not going to comment on #2.5 because as a passenger I reserve the right to share my concern when I have one. You might be thinking, “How is it possible that you only have 2.5 things you generally fight about?” I have to agree with him that is the complete list. #1 is for him, #2 is for me, and like I said we’ll just ignore #2.5.

Puppy Love

Posted by random olio

I used to be scared shitless of our dog, Ginger. I was young, and our German Shepherd was much larger than me and she would often jump up on me, was way taller, and well most of the time knocked me over. When I would leave my room in the morning I would yell out: “Is Ginger outside?” My family sometimes supported my fears and would say yes, and other times they would mess with me and think I was a complete baby, and tell me she was outside, only to be lovingly mauled by her. Ugh. How my family frustrated me. Rather than work with me on my fear, they teased me.

Somehow over time, and maybe just with growing taller, and more mature I got over my fear of Ginger. She was eventually hit by a car while delivering newspapers with my brother. We had many more dogs over the years. Some that tore up our house because they were afraid of thunderstorms, or jumped fences, and some chewed their own fur off. I never feared our large dogs after Ginger. We never had a “normal” dog. My father always brought home dogs that had been abused (thus their strange behaviors).

Fast forward to Chris and my time dating. He had a massive Great Dane, who had also been abused before Chris rescued her. While my dad and brother were great with our dogs, I never saw a connection between a dog and man before Chris and Belle. So when I saw this dog + baby video, I immediately showed him. His response: “That is ridiculous.” He could not stop laughing and smiling.

The baby continues to move closer and snuggle with the dog… What is not to ooh and ahh over?

Take me downstairs

Posted by random olio

She was my mom’s roommate at a nursing home. I loathed visiting my mom. Old ladies that either barely fit into their wheelchairs, or exploded out of them would follow me down the hallway. They would slide along moving at a snail pace, sliding their feet along as their means to get from one place to the next. It was as though I had the scent of youth and when I would come in the door they know and follow. Some of them were completely normal, and some were not quite right.

There were days I would see a group of random old ladies in my mom’s room. One would be facing the corner talking to herself, another would be sitting there staring at my mom not talking, and another would have fallen asleep mid entrance to her room. I would look at my mom and she would roll her eyes. Our unspoken angst at the situation neither of us had any control over.

Back to the roommate. She would talk in her sleep, and talk while awake. She would say things like: “Take me home.” Or “Take me downstairs.” Mind you the nursing home was one level. At first it all made me laugh, and then it just made me sad. The roommate did not have daily visitors, and when I would try to talk to her it made her cranky, and she would talk even more, in lines of gibberish that made no sense. My mom was in a nursing home because the hospital no longer had space and she needed extra care. I often wonder what it was like for her to live among those that were her mother’s age and older. She had her meals with them, did physical therapy, and activities with them. Did it drive her crazy? It was as though I watched her age during her stay at that nursing home.

I do not know what happened to her roommate, but my mom got better enough for us to move into a small apartment and in-home nurses would come and help her each day (in addition to what my sister and I would do to care for her). Thank God. I am not sure how much longer I could have watched the gaggle of old ladies congregate in my mom’s room. I might start to speak in their language. “Take me to…”

“Clean out the sewers and replace the pipes”

Posted by random olio

I have to admit I am utterly exhausted as this week nears to a close. It is Friday, and I am ready for the weekend. A lot has been accomplished this week, a lot of progress has happened, but I still often feel like I am in a hamster cage saying: “Can I get out for a small break? Please can I stop spinning around this wheel?”

A work colleague shared an interesting idea in a meeting last week. She said: “We need to clean out the sewers and replace the pipes.” Maybe that sounds completely random to you, or maybe it resonates completely. How often do we stop, take an assessment for how things are really going and fix what needs to be fixed? If we were better about maintenance and checking up on our life, we might find that we do not need to clean sewers, and replace pipes because we were fixing and keeping up with life all along. How often does that really happen though? Do we fix the drip, or wait until it is a hole pouring water into our ceiling?

On Monday, I wrote about the mole infestation in our yard. It had been a trickle of random mole holes for months and months. We did nothing about it until this week when it wrecked havoc on our entire yard. I can only imagine the tunnels that have been dug a few feet down all around our yard and even under our house. Maybe sink holes are really the manifestation of a colony of moles over time? In any case, my colleague’s comment continues to make me think about work, home, and life projects that might be better handled by stopping and getting rid of the excess, the stuff that has built up (whether it be problems or a backlog) and focus on building a better infrastructure (replacing the pipes) so that there is a longer life to the foundation of a project or life situation.

I can think of a list of things at work and home where I need to gut and replace. I will leave you with this great quote:

“If you don’t have time to do it right, when are you going to have time to re-do it? -Bill Hosket [Basketball National Champion, World Champion, Gold Medalist]

Is chivalry all about intent?

Posted by random olio

He is a gentlemen. He is listening, watching, and aware. However, do not be fooled, he can have a bite too. As you watch him in a room, he can often be the quiet one, but when he talks others listen. Most likely it is because he does not fill the airwaves with mindless banter (as I might be more accused of doing). Regardless of his quiet demeanor, he has always put me first (well 99% of the time–no one is that perfect)! Yes, I am speaking of Chris. My man, my partner in crime. He is good to me, takes care of me, and does little things that make me feel safe. An example, walking back to our car in a sketchy part of town, he will open the door for me and make sure I am in the car safely. Does he do it all the time? No, do I want him to? Hell no. Do I love that he does it randomly? Yes (said with a smile).

I just finished reading a great book with each chapter having an excerpt from a different woman called: “Mistakes I Made at Work: 25 Influential Women Reflect on What They Got Out of Getting It Wrong” edited by Jessica Bacal. It was an interesting read on a variety of topics. 25 women talk about lessons they learned on the job, at some of their toughest moments. One of the ideas that stood out for me was from author, Courtney E. Martin about chivalry:

“I wrote a post about chivalry, trying to unpack what it means to be feminist in romantic relationships. I liked when guys opened doors for me but wondered if that fed a stereotype that women were weak and needed to be taken care of by men. I thought about it and felt good about the distinction that I came up with—door opening as a loving gesture versus door opening with an ‘I don’t think you can open this heavy door by your little self!’ attitude. What I ended up writing was that it’s romantic if it happens out of care and interdependence but not romantic if the guy thinks you are an ‘invalid’—a word I was trying to use ironically.” Page 229

Martin mentions romantic relationships, but I think as a woman it can also translate to work. You can tell which male co-workers open the door because they are just opening the door for you, (and you would do the same for them) and how many are doing it because of a power play. They feel like they should, as Martin mentions they think you are too weak to do so, or they are better at the task. It is always a little strange as a woman, that men let me go first through a door. I mean–why does it matter who goes first?

Whether the men I work with everyday, or the one I have chosen to spend my life with decide to do it as a “loving gesture” or not, I hope they at least think about their intent. That is all that really matters, right? At the end of the day, power over another does not make us equals. Why not look at the relationship and decide what works? Maybe we all have different ways to show we care, and we also have different ways to show our power.

What do you think?