Okay Now...Be A Good Little Human

Maybe I’m turning into an old fussbudget but lately I’m getting a little tired of machines “doing” things for me. Although there are a number of areas to which this applies, I seem to get particularly ticked of as it relates to cars and bathrooms. I’ve already learned how to navigate each, thank you very much. And one, at a very early age, in fact.

It all started with a seatbelt.

Okay, who all remembers the first time they got into a car, and the car ‘seatbelted’ them in, without their help? Did you think, “Awww, what a sweet thoughtful car this is!” Hell no. I thought, “Help! This damn thing has me trapped!” I hated that. Hated it. And when the fake lady’s voice reminded me that my door was open? It was like, “No shit? Really? Is that why the left side of my body is exposed to sun, wind and rain? Damn. Thanks, car.” Okay, granted I got used to some of it. SO used to it that, whenever I’d get into someone else’s less-smart car, I’d try and try to get out and couldn’t, only to realize I have to first UNDO my belt. (I know that whenever this happened, my car was back home, smirking)

Then came the bathrooms. Remember the first time the toilet flushed for you? Shit (bad word choice) – I nearly jumped into the next stall. This is great for the five year old who forgets to flush. But for those of us who have been potty trained a bit longer – I prefer to have control over this operation. I want to know it’s done before I leave – without having to find a way to escape the motion sensor in a 1’ X 1’ impossible space.

The “I’ll tell you when the water is gonna start” sink is kind of a good thing. I like not having to turn it off. But of course that’s assuming it’s paying attention to my wild hand flails and actually turned it on in the first place.

Paper towel decision maker? Don’t EVEN get me started. There I stand, Oliver Twist-like, begging for another little scrap of paper. “Please, mister, may I have some more? I’d like to dry the pinky on my right hand, too.”

But these are mostly inconveniences, some silly things that I can get worked up into a good crochety grumble about. At worst, it feels like the beginning of a sci fi movie where paternalistic machines have taken over in order to do what they think is best for us. Wait! (wahine frantically tries to remember the end of 2001 – A Space Odyssey; was HAL really destroyed? – before nervously refocusing on post). But the one that drives me freakin’ NUTS is the one I had to deal with this morning…

A car that locks its doors whether you want it to or not. FFS, what’s up with that?????
I don’t mean the driver’s door – it, in its undisputable auto wisdom (heh) has probably already factored in the probability of us crazy humans leaving the keys in the ignition.

I mean, when it takes it upon itself to lock the OTHER doors.

Why am I experiencing this and why is it driving me nuts?

Because my car is sort of off limits until the guy who does brakes comes back to town. So I rented a car for a couple of days – to go to other side of island, buy groceries, drop off used clothing to giveaway place, deal with packages from post office, etc. - all chores that involve opening and closing non-driver doors. And of COURSE the freaking doors were always locked.

It’s like playing a bad game of Mother, May I with a gawddamned machine.

If we can’t figure out the door thing, then we probably shouldn’t be driving in the first place. Maybe that needs to be added to the driving test, kind of like the ADA thing – “True or false: I am capable of locking or unlocking my car doors.”

Anyway…the car is returned, my little meltdown that involved screaming obscenities at a big inanimate object in public is over, and I’m safely back to work – harrumphing to my friends about it.

So I just thought I’d loop you in as well.

Relative Humidity

On that unbearably sultry day in July, the woman smiled while she folded the last towel. “Humid. They don’t know from humid. 85 degrees with 71% relative humidity…they couldn’t handle this.” Weather to melt by, that’s what she called it.

Finished with the laundry, she moved to the other project – cleaning out the luggage, the closet and the memorabilia folder – alternating among all three. She found, remembered and then tossed each item into one bag or the other. Goodwill or Garbage; no in between. Nothing was going to make the cut today.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the bedroom mirror, she paused to survey the reflection. The pile of clothing on the dresser partially blocked her view. Well, it saved her, really, from the reality of the middle age upper arm waddle that she so hated. Instead, her eyes were met only by a direct and purposeful gaze and well sculpted tan shoulders that strained at the olive green tank top that her eyes decided to match in color today. Having a generally awful reaction to mirrors, she was surprised to note that this glance was actually pleasing. “Thank you, pile of clothing” she thought. Her Too Humid Today Glisten only added to the illusion of fitness. She smiled at herself and winked, then returned to the task at hand.

By now her project had taken on ritual proportions and she wouldn’t stop until she was finished. She couldn't.

Tomorrow she would hit life running. Work, community, kid – would all be clamoring for her time and attention. Order would come from the chaos, and life would continue, as though never interrupted. It would be rather pleasant and generally upbeat. If all went well, she’d have renewed drive, cobwebs would be shaken off and she'd be ready to plan out the next phase of her life.

But today she knew where she wanted to be and why. And it wasn’t here. .
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Knowing When To Clean Up My Own Mess...and When To Move

I can't believe what I just did. I also don't really know what happened. It was like the middle of a CSI scene, with the agent standing there, trying to understand the sequence of events or root cause.

It started with a bowl of chopped turnip greens.

Let me try to recreate the scene of the crime for you:

I was in the middle of about three tasks (red flag #1) - computering, cooking, unpacking. Had forgotten to eat lunch, (red flag #2) or go to the store, so I was tossing together whatever I could find in my freezer and trying to just nuke it all.

The next part happenend within a timeframe of about five seconds, so I'm still trying to understand it--

The microwave beeped as I was walking back into the room. As I reached for the door, I heard the chime that I get when there's an I M message, so of course that diverted my attention (red flag #3). Instead of walking to the other side of the room to get the potholder (MAJOR red flag here) I figured, oh heck, I'll just sort of dance the container over to the countertop, changing fingertips en route.

Big mistake.

As (and picture this in slo-mo, for the right effect) I grabbed the container with one hand and tried to deal with the loose lid with the other (yeah, I KNOW- red flag #5) it was hotter than I anticipated, so it decided to sort of fling itself across my kitchen, releasing a torrent of green shit along the way.

But my kitchen--
I swear, it looked like someone tried to bless my house with chopped turnip greens.

Let me try to trace the spatter trail for you--
Out of the microwave, onto the scanner.
Across my NEW package of just opened computer paper, down INTO my stash of Diet Dr Pepper (yes, in the nooks and crannies of the plastic thing that holds them together). Across the floor, onto the fridge, all over the stuff magnetted to the fridge (including my brand new souvenier magnet ), UNDER the fridge, into my coffee pot, until finally landing neatly in the sink. (Now THAT was magnificent - just stood there with a silent "wow..." when I saw that. Not sure but I think I saw my dog hold up a little sign with a 9.5 on it)

Oh yeah, and did I mention that my Living Room and Kitchen are all one big room? So yes, the open suitcase that I was unpacking got blessed as well.

I'll tell ya...
I think I topped myself this time. In fact it was almost as bad as the time I accidentally dumped a pound of coffee INTO my bookcase. (Think about that one for a minute. Let it digest.)

Am I the only one who does things like this? Is this really my life, or did I get trapped in some previously unaired I Love Lucy time warp continuum?

Please tell me you do stupid shit, too.

And if you don't, then lie.

A Close But Uneasy Relationship

Whenever I travel, I invariably learn things not only about myself, but about my relationship with others. This vacation is no exception. I am being bombarded with revelations about two significant relationships in my life - one not currently active and one ongoing.

But the funny thing - in both cases, the other party is not a person.

One relationship, the inactive one, is between myself and the hotel industry. The other day I was listening to "You Really Got a Hold On Me" (hey, I forgot to bring my MP3 connector cord, so I have to listen to the SAME songs that I downloaded a month ago) and it made me smile - that's about how I feel. It's like an exciting bad boy lover that is so much more fun, yet SUCH a pain in the ass than the easy, placid (that's a pl, ha) boring nice guy. I love teaching college classes but I just don't get the juice from teaching about business as I did when I was IN it.

The other relationship - the ongoing one - is with my country. I love it, I generally respect its laws (although 25 mph in Wintersville is ridiculous), I want very much to stay in it, but frankly, I'm very angry at it. And I'm not sure what to do with that anger, where to go with it.

Last September I wrote a post, Patriotism - Another Facet of the Melting Pot in which I said that there are two circumstances that have influenced me and my attitude towards my country:

1. being the granddaughter of four people who gave up everything and everyone they knew to come to America and thanked God every day of their lives for the opportunity to do so

2. being reared during the turbulent 60's, where, possibly for the first time, the warts, mistakes and wrongdoings of our country were made public - widely and loudly.

The effect of the first circumstance causes me to tear up at the Star Spangled Banner and to want, with my whole heart, to believe and follow our leaders.

The effect of the second circumstance causes me to understand that my duty as a citizen is not to 'tow the line' but to let my country know when I think it is fucking up - widely and loudly.

But, back to that geographical perspective change -
There is a third circumstance that has an influence on my relationship with my country just as deep as the first two, and that is:

3. Living in Hawaii for twenty years, and in rural Hawaii for seventeen of those years

Whether you want to hear this or not, whether you need to spin it some other way or not, the truth is - the US and its citizenry has NOT done right by Hawaii and Hawaiians. Historically, it's pretty much undisputable fact (don't EVEN try to argue the point if you are not Hawaiian or if you have never lived there) and in my opinion, continues to do so, not illegally but by our propensity for that "we know what's best for everyone" attitude that we tend to go a little overboard with.

I don't know. Sigh...

Blind allegiance drives me nuts so spare me all your "America, Love it Or Leave It" bumpersticker baloney. Also, I get just as irritated at my farther-to-the-left friends who feel that putting it down no matter what is somehow intellectually cool. This post is really not about politics - it's about a relationship. One that I need to work on, I guess.

Apologies for the rambling. It's been a tough week for that relationship. Spend 4th of July with the conservative end of the family - we all got to shoot a Magnum 44, the women all showed me their little hanguns and I swear, my cousin's husband probably belongs to some secret militia. We prayed and thanked Jesus for the USA and for the safety of the citizens (and I KNOW that prayer did not include the colorful or sexually questionable ones). But the food was good and my liberal uncle and I sneaked away whenever we could.

But then there was yesterday...

For the first time, I saw the Statue of Libery. For the first time, I visited Ellis Island. Has anyone been to Ellis? I swear, you can literally "feel" its history. Or maybe that's just because it is my history. It was very, very emotional for me. I kept thinking of my grandparents, who I was very close to. I remembered that my grandmother had a cheap grocery store portrait of JFK hanging on her living room wall for over ten years. And how she was always naming pets Rosey, and I learned that it was the closest she could come to pronouncing Roosevelt.

I don't know...

Am still confused. But I'll get it figured out. And today, Central Park and Ground Zero awaits us. And meeting a friend.

I'll get back to ya on this perplexing Marti + USA relationship.

No editing this time - grammar police: take a break today.

WHY Did I Let Her Do This To ME????

Right before I left on vacation, I did the hair thing - colored the grey and had the cool blonde streaks put back in. I absolutely love the woman whom I refer to as my Head Handler. She asked if I wanted to get it cut and I said, "Nah, it doesn't quite need it yet."

Big mistake.

A MAJOR WTF was I thinking moment.

I've been gone for weeks, I have that weird kind of curly hair that people do NOT mean when they say they wish they had naturally curly hair.

Thanks to the science of recent cutting techniques, blow dryers, those big round brushes and flat irons, I, and a small pit crew can coax my hair into actually looking like hair. And I love that.

But when it gets too long on the top, it falls over and doesn't make sense. (Guys and straight haired women, don't feel bad about skimming the rest - it's ok). BUT...I only trust the person, back home in Hawaii, that cuts it. But again, it was driving me nuts.

So for the past week I've been going through a "to cut or not to cut" Hamlet-worthy dilemma.

Yesterday I told Debbie that I might as well get it cut, cause I'll bitch about it if I don't. She, who has known me for 30+ years replied, "You'll bitch if you don't but you'll bitch about it if you do."

So I did.

I now have possibly the worst haircut in my life.

I am not exagerrating. In the middle of hanging with people I haven't seen in years and even people I've never met in person, and for the rest of my vacation I'll be marked as the person with the bad haircut.

IT'S TOO FREAKIN' SHORT! It's uneven. My bangs are longer on one side than the other. And, the worst part, it looks like one of those 'easy' haircuts women my age get when they no longer care about how they look.

I'm miserable about this. WHAAAAAAAA!!!!


I also believe that everything happens for a reason, so now I'm wondering wtf the lesson is.

Any ideas????

Oglebay Park

I had the BEST day...

Lately my kid has been a little lost in the vacation shuffle - his cousins aren't here, Mom's been running around hanging with friends, etc. So I decided that yesterday would be one of Our Days.

There's a sprawling park near Wheeling, West Virginia (about 30 minutes from here) called Oglebay Park that is not only beautiful but has a bunch of cool activities. So yesterday we headed to Oglebay. (pronounced O gul bee)

For a mere $12.50 per person, we purchased wrist bands that allowed us to

Swim
Fish
Pedal Boat
Miniature Golf
Hang out with a glass blower (oh, stop )
Go to a zoo
Play on a par 3 golf course
Lose a bucket of balls on a driving range
and all kinds of other stuff.

WHAT a deal! If you're ever around the area, check it out.

Some random thoughts that floated through my relaxed brain:

Sometime last year someone on the blogs assigned me the song Miss Chantelain, by kd lang. Never heard it until the other day when I downloaded it onto my mp3 thing. Have you ever heard it? What a WONDERFUL song! If I ever fall in love again, I want THAT to be the song to describe how I get.

I love my mp3 player. Still.

Have been listening to "Reflections Of My Life" for thirty years. Now when I hear it, it reminds me of one of you fools. Get outta my brain! (kidding, it's fun)

This phrase wandered through while I was fishing/listening to tunes:
Music is the thread that ties my life together.

I watched the parents playing with their kids on the swingsets, looked over at this adult sized thing with me and got temporarily nostalgic. Then he took the fish off my hook for me, cracked a witty pun and patted me on the head. I realized that old kids are even more fun than the little ones.

Things we know about ourselves:
Like it or not, I am a private sector hotel career person. LOVE teaching college classes, but I miss business like one misses a lover that just can't be resisted.

At the end, we were hot, tired and hungry enough to be cranky so we hit the Lodge at Oglebay. Jackpot! Friday night seafood buffet, life music, wonderful food, beautiful place, etc etc etc...

When I finish this post, I think I'm going to send my resume to the Oglebay Park Lodge.