The topic d’jour is an article I read on MSN about what we can learn from the over-100 crowd.  They quoted a study which showed that the centenarians in the best health also happened to be the ones who had a comfortable relationship with their finances.  Not that they were financially comfortable, not at all!  These folks said, “I have enough money to pay my bills and buy a few extras every now and then.  I have enough.”  The study reported that some of those elders were living below the poverty line, but were satisfied anyway.

After some digression about the true meaning of “the poverty line”, Hubs and I talked about expectations.  In my simplest view, isn’t it all about expectations?

I feel mildly dissatisfied that I can’t really afford to go get a massage.  Getting a massage is pure luxury, not a thing required to keep body and soul together.  Generally, I am very content with my life and I do not measure my success or my self by my bank account.  Or do I?

Do you know people who complain about how broke they are, and yet they can afford to smoke, or go bar-hopping on a Saturday night, or take a cruise?  How about those people who want to get out from under a house, not because they can’t make the mortgage payment, but because they see a better deal somewhere else, and are “letting the house go back” to the lender?  Is that truly being broke?

If you’re going to the salon for a professional cut and color every month, don’t tell me that you can’t make your bills.  If you are still eating take out dinners and haven’t tried cooking from scratch, then you don’t know what it is to be frugal.  Don’t say you can’t make your house payment when you just got back from a weekend at the mall. 

I am a pretty low-maintenance woman.  Don’t let the massage remark fool you.  I’ve only ever had two massages in my life and they were both gifts.   I can easily get three good meals out of one whole chicken.  I know how to be frugal.  Certainly, I know how to be more frugal than I’ve been lately.  And even I would be challenged by trying to live at the level of economic depression that my grandparents knew.   

I think we have achieved a level of immediate gratification in our culture that would astound most of the rest of the world.  When was the last time you saved up to buy something?  No, we go out and buy it NOW and pay for it later.  Do we really need the newer, fancier phone or laptop or car?  Will we be stoned for heresy if we are caught wearing last year’s shoes?  Where are our priorities?

OK, I’ll quit ranting.  The point is, there are many people out there who are truly unable to make ends meet.  There’s a great migration of fledglings back to the nest, unable to make a nest of their own.  Seniors are moving in with their children because their retirement money isn’t enough to live on.  Maybe we are regenerating the multi-generational household.  Not entirely a bad thing, in my humble opinion.    What about the elders who don’t have a child to move in with? 

We can sit here and whine until hell won’t have it.  That won’t change a thing.  Until we can learn to live on what we actually make, until we stop measuring our self worth by the scales of commerce, it won’t change.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard someone complain about being out of work and in the same breath talk about the jobs they’ve turned down.  Too good to flip burgers? 

America has always been proud of her pull-youself-up-by-the-bootstraps mentality.  Where did that go?  We can bring it back.   It will take a new evaluation of who we are and what is important to us.

If I had my own country, the laws would be very strictly enforced.  I have no patience for criminals.  I believe in capital punishment.  On a smaller scale, I have no tolerance for people who behave as if they are the only person on the planet.  (We all see people who drive that way!)  I can’t stand stupid.  Oh, sure, we all do stupid things from time to time, but the chronically stupid must be STOPPED!

I’ve had many years to think about this.  I think fewer laws = better laws:  few enough to memorize, anyway.  God thought ten was a good manageable number, and I agree with all ten of His.  I would start there.  BUT.  I wouldn’t include all of the commandments in my country’s laws.  Some things are between you and God.  The government (in this case, ME) only needs to get involved in temporal matters.    In other words, coveting thy neighbor’s ox is one thing.  Stealing it is another.  I’m not interested in the condition of your soul.  I’m interested in your behavior and its effect on eveyone else.

I believe that punishment should fit the crime.  Wherever possible, the crime you committed will be similarly inflicted upon YOU.  In addition to basic blanket laws about not killing people, not stealing, etc., I also have some more specific statutes in mind:

1. Barking dogs are not permitted.  I want to know that if my dog  or yours is barking, something requires my attention.  It is a dog’s job to bark at trespassers, threats to livestock and dangerous animals and even then, only enough barking to alert you.  If your dog is barking at anything else it will be taken away from you and taught better manners.
2. Everyone, at age 18, will be required to submit to an IQ test and a common-sense test and to keep their scores available. Those tests can be retaken at anytime if you feel like you’re learning.  Your score must meet a minimum eligibility to vote, drive, hold public office, become a police officer or firefighter, or to work in any function  in television.  The painfully stupid will not be discriminated against except when their decisions will affect others.
3. Anyone operating a motor vehicle is required to be sober, alert, courteous and aware of other drivers on the road.   I don’t care if it’s alcohol or age that is getting in your way.  Drive like an asshole and you will lose your license and your car.
4. It is against the law to use invasive sales techniques.  That includes telemarketing, commercials that are louder than the show, door-to-door salespersons,  misleading commercials and ridiculous claims.  This applies to sales of goods, services AND religion.
5. Any complaints against a neighbor will be investigated.  If it is determined that your complaint is a result of you being a damn busybody, you will be required to ‘volunteer’ one week of your time to a school, a charity, or another worthwile cause, because you clearly need a hobby.  Repeat offenses will increase your volunteering exponentially, so that eventually you will have no time to mind anyone’s business but your own.
6. Civil law suits can only be brought by you, personally.  No lawyers.  If you can’t present your case convincingly on your own, you’re S.O.L.  In the case of criminal trials, the defense attorney will enjoy the same fate as his client.  (If you defend a man against murder, you better be sure he is innocent and you can prove it.)  Jurors will be required to show an above average score on those IQ and common-sense tests before they can serve.
7. You will be required to speak the National Language if you wish to live, work or attend school in my country.  
8. Any other country that “bashes” my country or its citizens will earn a place on a list which prevents them from ever receiving any sort of aid from us.  If you don’t like my politics, France, that don’t come crying to us when an invading force is standing at your threshold or the earth is shaking under your feet.
9. All the nationalities of the world are welcome, and your cultural traditions are welcome, too.  Up to a point.  You will be required to leave your ancestral prejudices at the door.  You will be required to play by our rules.  Bring your food and your music and your traditions.  By all means, embrace your native language and teach it to your children.  Heritage is important! But you’ll still be required to learn our language to live in our country.
10. Last, but certainly not least:  no whining.

Ah the temptation.  The crushing weight of temptation.  It leaned heavily upon my soul, and powerless to resist it, I shot back a quick “NM. U?”

Oh, don’t gasp at me like that.  I let her off the hook almost immediately and told her she was talking to HIS MOTHER.    Later I found out that she thought I was amazingly cool that I knew the lingo.  Ha.

I would love you to think that I didn’t pose as my son because I am such a big person.  Maybe I am.  It might also be that ignorance is bliss.  I’m not at all sure I want to know what I might find out. 

Think what you want.  My story is that even a teen has a right to privacy until he screws it up.  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I’ve heard a lot of different theories on priorities in a marriage.  One of the most logical-sounding is that the priority order should be God first, children second and spouse third.  The theory is that if you get right with God, all else will follow, and that since your children are children, adults can take care of themselves until the kids are grown.

I beg to differ .  I scream to differ.  I think it works a completely different way.  I think it should be marriage first, children second, and the first two help you to a better understanding of God.  I learned more about God from my children and from being their parent than anything I ever picked up in Catechism.

I’ve seen people put their kids, their own parents, their jobs, their church, their friends…even their pets before their spouse.  Unhappiness always seems to ensue.

In my view, your marriage is the greenhouse that allows all the rest to grow successfully.  Moms and Dads of the world, pay attention now!  Putting your children before your marriage will leave both wanting. 

Our children need to see a working marriage.  They need to know that the world does not revolve around them (or else they are in for a rude awakening in the real world).  They need to be an integral part of a family, and not the little princes of the castle.  

Children also need to know that the marriage is the reason they exist, not the other way around.  They need to see that they are the product of their parent’s love and devotion to each other.   To hide that love and devotion because the kids are watching is a mistake.  No, I don’t mean you ought to have them standing at the foot of the bed when you demonstrate what I talked about a few posts ago…..  

Another thing I see too often is putting your church before your marriage.  Oh, I’m probably going to be lambasted forsaying this, but I think your relationship with God is between you and Him.  If God wanted to be part of a marriage, He would have gotten married.  Seriously.  Both people in the marriage should have a nice, healthy relationship with their creator, but I don’t think God wants to be in on all the gritty details.

This leads me back to my notion of God-as-parent.  When one of my boys marries, I want both him and his wife to have a healthy, comfortable relationship with me.  I do NOT want to be a third member of the actual marriage.  I do not want my son to remember my birthday and forget his wife’s.  It would be far better for him to remember all that he learned from me, add in all that he learns from his wife and children, and become the best man, husband and father he can be.  Would God want different?  I doubt it.

Going to church on the sabbath is not a get-out-of-jail-free card for all that you should be doing as a spouse.  Have you ever heard someone say, “I can’t believe he cheated on his wife!  She’s such a nice, Christian woman!”  or something similar?  I’m not going to point fingers in any specifics.  I can tell you that if we all spent our time making sure we were doing our best at home, before we worry about solving the world’s problems, the world’s problems would diminish significantly.

I think that in the environment of a healthy marriage (note I did not say a perfect marriage?), each spouse can give the other the support and time to come to their own spiritual understanding.  Hopefully, each spouse’s respective view can get along with the other’s.  We are each on a different road in that regard, and no one has anybody’s else’s road map. 

Having your own children helps you comprehend your parents better.  I think having a strong marriage helps you feel secure enough to make up your own mind about things.  Putting church before your spouse derails that, and the next thing you know, your beliefs came straight out of the pastor’s mouth and not from your own heart.

We have unflattering names for people who put their own parents before their spouse and family (Momma’s boys and Daddy’s Little Girls comes to mind).  We have names for people who put their friends or their jobs first.  Why is it OK for me to define myself as a mom, a Christian, a pediatrician (or whatever)…and then list “wife” as an afterthought?  It sounds like  I’m a pillar of society to say it that way, but maybe it means I have my priorities all mixed up.

Do you remember your wedding vows?  Mine talked about a promise to love, honor and obey.  There weren’t any qualifying statements like, “except when the kids come along”.   The vows didn’t mention anything about the division of labor, or who was going to have to spend Christmas with the in-laws.  If we put love and honor first, the rest sorts itself out. 

Any given moment in time may require us to shift attention, meet the demands or needs of someone in a way that requires us to reorganize our priorities for a while.  That should be a temporary situation, not the status quo.

Trust me on this.  Put your spouse first.  Make your marriage your top priority, and see if all the rest doesn’t seem to fit better.  I think you’ll even find that if you can put your marriage on the top of your list, there will even be some room for YOU on the list.

Even though I enjoy the challenges of a job like mine, the ribeye of my life is really the simple parts.   I had a simple “dinner” of chips and salsa.  My guys weren’t especially hungry so we all just grazed.  That was nice and simple.   I love how it feels when my hubs curls up to me in bed at night.  Neither one of us can sleep that way, but the connection for a little while at the end of day is simply wonderful.

My sweet hubs is an early riser.  So every morning, when I wake up, the smell of coffee brewing is in the air.  I love that.

I bought this new shampoo and is smells delicious! 

My dog is a spaz, but she loves me.

Our soldier boy is coming home for a visit in April.  This is going to be a new experience because he isn’t staying with us!  I guess at 22, he doesn’t feel like a kid anymore? 

It’s spring break for my baby, the high school senior.  His last spring break as a “child”.  I hope he enjoys it.   It’s a simple little gift. 

A dear friend came over for dinner last week.  We had such a nice visit!  A simple dinner of grilled salmon and artichokes.  A little wine.  A little food.  A little laughter.  It was a simple pleasure.

I think we walked about 6 miles a day, not including stairs, and the people-watching was wonderful.  Until.

We crossed over one of those pedestrian bridges;   you know the ones where there is somone on each end selling bottled water, and the homeless are sitting in the shade with their signs such as, “Why lie?  I want a drink.”

If you’ve been reading my blog, you know about my struggles with the true meaning of charity.  You know that I do not believe that throwing a dollar in the cup is going to truly help.  But then we saw a young woman sitting there.  She was bedraggled and strung out, with a cup announcing, “Anything will help.  God bless you.”

She couldn’t have been much older than my youngest.  I don’t know enough about drugs to know which ones she was taking to make her look like that, but it was…..unnerving.  I caught a glimpse of her eyes as she stared blankly ahead.  Maybe I sound a bit dramatic, but there was a clear despair in those blank eyes.  

I wanted to sit down beside her and ask her how to help.  I wanted to buy her a decent meal, some clean clothes and bottle of shampoo.  I wanted to take her under my wing and guide her back onto the path of who she SHOULD HAVE BECOME.  I wanted to help.

What happened in this young girl’s life to bring her to this said situation?  Was it drugs alone?  A long series of poor choices?  Abuse?  Neglect?  Could it be something as simple (and yet profound) as a busted give-a-damn?  How many people who have known her could have changed the direction of her life?  Anyone?  All of them?  Would it have made a difference if one teacher would have given her an “A” for having tried so hard?  Would it have helped if her parents had sat down with her to dinner every night?  What?  WHAT???

I want to know.  I want to understand if it is really possible that we have disposable people.  Are these folks human litter on the streets of the Southwest?  Is there still a chance to save them? 

I walked away, and my sweet hubs looked at me and I at him.  We didn’t have to say anything, but he saw the tears that stood behind my eyes.  The most painful answer is very often the only real answer. 

Yes, there is still a chance to save them.  But the chance lies with them, and I am powerless to choose the life for them that I want them to have.   I pray that the girl looks up someday and meets the eyes of a passerby.  I hope she sees that there is still life out here.

I want to start this post by making another disclaimer.    Tomorrow is our 25th wedding anniversary, and I don’t want you to think that I am presumptuous enough to be 100% sure that we’ll last forever.  I hope we do, with all my heart, but I realize that life is a knife’s edge:  anyone can slip and get cut to the bone.  Marriages fail all the time and sometimes, you didn’t see it coming. 

OK.  Got that out of the way.   So back to the 25 years of wedded bliss.  I was 20 years old when I said, “I do”.  Even though “I did”, I didn’t really know what that was going to entail:  the trials and troubles of married life, the times when I felt sure that it was over, the joys and blessings and the days I thought we had it figured out.  It was all a journey of discovery to me.

Here’s what I wish I knew 25 years ago.  Men are simple.  They do complicated things for unfathomable reasons, but I promise you:  even the smartest man you know is ultimately very simple. 

I’m no Tammy Wynette to stand by my man no matter what.  And I’m not trying to tell you how to outsmart or trick your man.  I’m telling you that you have to know who you’re dealing with in order to get the result you desire.  You know it’s true.  You know which of your friends to call for a night out, and which ones are better for sage advice.  You know how to get co-workers to get on board with your ideas.  You know how to get your toddler to do what you want, by putting it in their terms.  And you know that if you want your dog to go lay down on her bed, you don’t give her lengthy, detailed explanations.  You say, “Get in your place.” and point.  Done.

I wish I had known 25 years ago that wearing a bra that pushed the girls up so high that my voice changed, and a garter belt with lacy stockings, would get me complicity any time I wanted to shop.  Because he would hope I was shopping for more lingerie.   I wish I had known that he wasn’t nearly as attached to my cooking as he was to my other skills.

I wish I had known 25 years ago that he was not focusing on my flaws, but rather he was looking at my assets.  I wish I had been able to focus the same way back then. 

25 years ago, I hadn’t figured out that thinking about sex is man’s natural state.  To some degree it is always on his mind.  I didn’t understand that looking at other women did not mean he was tired of me.   And I didn’t understand that allowing, no encouraging sex to be in the forefront all the time made him happier, more relaxed, more pliant and far easier to get along with.  Silly me.  I thought sex was being vulnerable.  In truth, for women, sex is power.  Feminine power at its finest.  If he thought that a blow job was anywhere on the horizon, whatever I wanted was mine. 

In fact, girls, if I were going to give you one word of unexpected advice in love, it would be this:  perfect your blow job.  It is the key to the kingdom, so to speak.  Do that so well that his eyes roll back in his head and he nearly faints, and all the world will be yours.   

Do you think that is bad advice?  Does it make you feel like you’re tricking him or something?  Or that you have to be the one to give give give all the time?  Bullshit.  I’m telling you that if you want your car to go, you know you have to fuel it up.  And if you want your man to adore you, you better damn well learn to adore his equipment.  Fawn over it, admire it, compliment and put it in your mouth.  He’ll be yours, heart and soul.   And it won’t work if you face it the same way you approach going to the dentist:  “I don’t like it, but it has to be done.”  You need to like it, love it, and let him see that.

Men only want to be loved, accepted, appreciated and admired, just like women do.  The difference is that to do those things for a woman, you can buy her roses, take her to dinner, rub her feet, do the dishes, a myriad of things … all of which we interpret as being cared for.  If you want a man to feel taken care of right down to the core of his soul, then take care of his equipment!  How simple!  Nothing else you do says as much to him. 

He won’t remember that you fixed his favorite dinner, or that you remembered his mother’s birthday.  But give him a blow job that rocks his world, and he will remember it.  Instead of tucking a love note in his lunch box, stuff a skimpy g-string panty in the pocket of the pants he’ll wear tomorrow.  Then hope like hell he doesn’t take them out and hold them up for all the world to see.   Send him a text message that just says he should avoid onions today because you plan on licking him to within an inch of his life tonight.

Why did it take me so long to figure that out?  Oh, I know.  It might have something to do with my very strict upbringing.   There is something to be said for being old enough to have aged away from your upbringing. 

Yes, world.  I have aged away from my upbringing.  I’ve learned that sex isn’t dirty or shameful or only for the purposes of procreation.  Sorry, Mom.  Your advice was pretty wide of the mark on that one.

When I look back at it now, and think about how it bothered me to catch him looking at my Victoria’s Secret catalog, I feel foolish.  If I had said, “Which one do you think I should buy?”, bought it and then WORN it, I would probably have spent as much money over the years on lingerie as he did on taxidermy. 

The only tricky part of the whole thing is to make sure that you do not this in such a way as to give him the impression that you have a lot of experience.  Let him think you’re a prodigy, rather than an expert.  When you make love to your beloved, he needs to be able to enjoy the moment and not lay there wondering where you learned that.  I was lucky.  Sweet Hubs and I learned together, if you get my meaning.  I’m not sure what you do when it isn’t your first rodeo and he knows it.  (Isn’t “rodeo” a good metaphor here?  LOL).  I can only tell you that he doesn’t want to feel like he’s just one stud in your life’s remuda.  (I crack me up….but I’m serious!)

I’m not an adventurous person by nature.  I’m just NOT.  But I still could have made a better effort at being unexpected, if not adventurous.  I’m trying to do that now, because I don’t want to become boring.  I need to do more to surprise him, large and small.

Twenty-five years of marriage has been a learning experience.  I hope I get the chance to continue that learning path, because one of the most important things I’ve discovered is that love grows. 

The young, ardent, lustful love we once shared ripened into a mature, comfortable, serious, reliable, lustful love.  I’m not embarrased to the toes if he walks in on me when I’m peeing, anymore.  I don’t hear a personal attack now, when he tells me he’s out of underwear.  Now that just goes on my mental list of what the next load of laundry should be.  And then I tell him I think it’s sexy when he goes commando.

Time passes and all the things that made my heart go pitter-patter are still there, but that has deepened into a passion made whole by shared experience and an improved understanding of what makes him tick.  Time can be a beautiful thing.

I’ve noticed that there are 3 kinds of attitudes toward self-help books:

    1.  Reading them, soaking in everything and believing it, living and preaching it….. until the next  self-help book you read, when you start over.

    2.  Reading them, measuring their words against your own insight and experience, and using them as a tool to learn more without necessarily gulping down every word.

    3.  Skipping them entirely.

I’d be in that last category.   Yeah.  Don’t read them.  I don’t even know why, exactly, but I have a theory.

When I was a little girl, attending catechism classes, I asked my Dad a question of great profundity.  In catechism, I was told that God was a part of each of us.  I was only 6 or 7 years old and this was beyond me.

Here’s what my very wise Daddy told me:  God IS within each of us.  He is that small voice that tells me when I should do or not do something;  He is in that part of me who cries for the pain of someone I have never met; He is that place in my heart that wants to take home every orphan, and feed everyone I think is too skinny, and embrace every lonely old soul.   When I feel my patience is at its very end, and a warm feeling of compassion comes over me and lets me be patient for a while longer, that is Him.   And IF I learn to listen, God is working in me when my limited wisdom comes to me in flashes of clarity.

Flashes of clarity.  You know those times when for some reason another person’s true intention is clear to you even though they try to conceal it?  Maybe the clarity comes when you are faced with a problem, or a friend needs guidance, and you discover that somewhere from your own brain comes an answer of beautiful simplicity.  When someone is hurting or in need and you can see what they need to heal them or help them?  That is your flash of clarity.  Is there a greater evidence of God within us than this?

What can a book really tell you, then, except maybe remind you of what you already know?

I love Christmas.  Not for the gifts, and not for the cookies.  It is different now that our kids are so grown, though.  Our youngest son will be 18 in a few months.  Next year, we might very well be empty nesters.   Imagine that.

My family is Catholic, and traditional Catholics at that.  That means the Latin, Tridentine Mass.  I remember going to midnight mass as a girl and how beautiful that was.  There was a sense of hushed wonder as the mass was celebrated.  Even though the Catholic mass is a reenactment of the Last Supper, the mass said on Christmas was filled with the expectation of the birth of the Christ Child.

It’s a tug of war in my own soul, in some ways.  I know that Christmas Day is not the actual BIRTHDAY of Jesus.  In fact, He was probably born in April. (That is a truly valid historical notion, too.)  The 3 Magi were not present at the birth; they probably showed up some time in the next 2 years.  And we don’t even know what year He as born.  The popular iconography of Christmas isn’t really even close.

But it isn’t supposed to be a historical anniversary.  It’s supposed to be a day set aside to remember, celebrate and revere Him.

So, whatever holiday you are celebrating around this time of year, I hope it brings for you the joy, blessings, contentment and everything else that feeds your soul.

I’m reviewing the list of recent break-ups in my mind (and I am not including Jon and Kate or other famous people because I don’t give a rat’s ass about those divorces.  Callous, ain’t I?)  I realize that my synopsis for each one below is simplistic.  Think of it as a complicated mess, crammed into a one-sentence nutshell.  And these are all recent:

J. & C. divorced after 24 years of marriage.  He decided he didn’t want to be “tied down” anymore.  Their youngest child was about to graduate and the tied down stage was nearly at an end, but he couldn’t wait.

J. & M. divorced because M. thought the grass was greener in too many other pastures, if you get my meaning.  J. thought his grass was plenty green and didn’t see it coming.

J. & J. also divorced because of the green pasture problem.

L. & K. divorced because K. reached her saturation point with L.’s drinking.

J. & R. both wandered off into new pastures.

C. & J. both wandered off into new pastures.  J. wanted to go back to the old pasture, but the gate was closed.

D. & R. found out that D. was not going to get all the control he had expected to wield.  That was a deal-breaker for him.

C. & C. are on the verge, partly due to his alcohol and impulse-control issues, and partly because of the economic woes.

There a few others, some I only heard about, others that may yet mend.

I am deeply saddened by all of those.  Each one is the death of a relationship.  All of the dreams and hopes that couple enjoyed when they started out, are flatlined.  The love on which they pinned their future fades away and is transmuted into bitterness and tension and even despair.  I don’t know of even one truly amicable divorce.  When the marriage dies, there is first grief and then it seems that hatred takes over.

God, preserve me from that fate.

**After I posted this last night, I thought of several other couples who have split up recently.  It just makes me sadder.**