Pair O' Normal Crows?

I'm not sure what I believe about the hereafter, or spirits, or reincarnation. There does seem to be a lot of stuff in my life I can't explain - and let me tell you, my experience with the crows is the most unexplainable so far.

My mother recently passed away. She was ill for a long time with cancer, and although she was an amazingly tough cookie, in the end her body gave out.

I got to my parents' house about a week before she died. As part of the body shutting down process, my mom was saying loopy things from time to time. According to the hospice nurses, it's normal for people in the end stages to get confused and talk to people who aren't there. One morning, maybe it was the Wednesday before she died, my mom asked, "Have those people left yet?" My dad asked who? But she wasn't sure. Then we were in the kitchen having breakfast.

Suddenly, I heard thumping noises above me. Like it was in the attic, or maybe on the roof. I thought to myself, "I didn't hear that" and continued slicing my strawberries. But I heard it again. I turned to my dad and asked if he heard it. He said he did. I said, "THAT's weird...." and he went outside to investigate.

He came back in and said it was odd, but there were crows pecking on the roof. I asked him if there were normally crows around, and he said he hadn't seen them. We both said hmmm.

My mother spent her days in a rented hospital bed in the family room. Most of the day she slept. I brought my laptop into the room and did my work there so I could be with her. The room has large floor to ceiling windows, and looks out onto the patio and backyard.

Each afternoon, I noticed two crows up on the telephone pole...and what was odd was another crow walking around the patio. In fact one day, maybe Thursday or Friday, I actually got up out of my chair and went to stare at it out the window. It had walked right up to the window in the family room. I remember saying to it, "What are you doing here?"

I began to get curious, and Googled crows/death/symbolism and found all sorts of articles about the symbolism of crows. One post caught my eye in particular. It said some Native American cultures believe the crow comes to escort the spirit away.

On Sunday, my mother died. My dad and I held her hand until the end.

On Monday, I told my dad what I had read. I said, if the crows leave soon, I will become a spiritualist. He said, if they do, so will I.

We folded up the hospital bed my mother had used, and put it into another room out of the way until it could be picked up. The crows were still around - two on the telephone pole at times, but the single crow now had moved its position.

Instead of hanging around the family room window, it was now behind my parents' bedroom. Sometimes I could see it in the planter box, but often it would be behind the house, staring up at the room.

I had this feeling the crow would leave once the hospital bed was picked up. It was scheduled for Thursday.

Thursday morning I ran out to run an errand. When I drove back there were two crows on our driveway looking towards our house. I instinctively said, "Mo-om" in that two syllable way kids do, and the crows flew away.

The bed was picked up the end of that day, but I forgot to check for the crow in the backyard.

Late Friday I told my sister and father that I would do the "crow watch." I looked out into the backyard and saw a black shape by the planter. I walked out to investigate.

The crow was dead.

My dad got a shovel and I said I'd hold the bag. He scooped up the crow into the plastic bag. The very second that I was tying the bag closed, a crow flew directly over us and cawed loudly. When we got back in the house, my sister said "I heard the fly-by."

I have not seen crows in our backyard since.

I cannot explain it. If it's a coincidence, it's the weirdest coincidence I've ever experienced.

But I sort of like to think the one crow came to escort my mom's spirit. She wasn't ready to go immediately, but the crow said, when you're ready to go, I'll go with you.

It Can ALWAYS Be Worse

I had a crap day today. I have some rental property, and aside from the fact I had to pay $400 to fix the air conditioner last month (on top of $300 for the FIRST sales call that accomplished the square root of f**k all), it now appears the community is turning into crack town. I went to a homeowners’ association meeting and it was a horrific. The residents there recited a litany of scary stories. But they weren’t even as scary as the people making up the “board” supposedly looking after the place. I couldn’t sell it now if I threw my own house in for free as a bonus. I just have to hope my tenant doesn’t run screaming from the place before his contract is up.

But you know what? All things considered, I have it pretty damn good at the moment.

And if you’re reading this, I can tell you, YOU have it pretty damn good.

First of all, you can see. Millions of people in the world can’t do that. Secondly, you can read. And probably a few billion people can’t do that.

Most likely, you had the money to pay for a computer AND an internet connection. For millions of people, the price of that connection is more than they will earn in a month. Millions of people live on less than ONE DOLLAR a day. But that’s the least of their worries.

A few hundred million parents will bury their kids tomorrow. A few hundred million kids will never see their 10th birthday. While 60% of the adult US population has too much to eat and hides the surplus under its collective sweatpants, a very large percentage of the world population only gets the caloric equivalent of one small order of fries every day. If they’re lucky.

I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad about the rest of the world, or to get you to do something about it. I’m telling you this so you’ll maybe look on the bright side for a moment or two each day.

He’s an asshole? You hate the fact you didn’t live happily ever after?

You’re having a GREAT day. You’re still alive. You can breathe, and see, and eat. You have a toilet that flushes. Pizza delivered. You have it pretty damn good.

But for months, even years afterwards, you’re still hashing and re-hashing every little way he did you wrong.

You know what? Too damn bad. It could ALWAYS be worse.

Most “bad” things that happen to us aren’t bad at all. They’re a royal pain in the ass. They hurt. They’re irritating. But they’re not bad.

I’ll tell you bad. Critical illness, dismemberment, starvation, death – those are bad things. Those are things without easy solutions we can control.

Disappointment, heartache, frustration, bankruptcy – not exactly a picnic, but definitely possible to overcome. Except by complaining.

I fear we have become a society of whiners. Moaning, complaining and grumbling are now encouraged, if not celebrated. In fact, moaning has become an industry, all on its own.

Bookstores have shelves packed with guides on how to complain effectively. Reality TV is only interesting when the participants kvetch.

Well I get sick of it. And you should be too. You should be sick and tired of hearing yourself do it. Because it’s a complete waste of time. While you’re pissing and moaning, your life is ticking away. The time you’re spending complaining that the world is against you, is productive time you’ve completely squandered.

Just imagine all the creative energy that is lost every single day because we waste it complaining, or gnashing our teeth over what some idiot “did” to us during the day.

Every single healthy, conscious moment you have in the land of the free is a GIFT my friends. You are free to dream, and do and progress. You are free to learn and try and succeed.

But you are a loser if you prefer to spend that time complaining. It’s unproductive, and it makes you look ugly besides. You spill stinky negative energy all over yourself and everyone around you, and let me tell you, it stains. Spill enough, and it becomes permanent.

Now there’s nothing wrong with being dissatisfied. On the contrary, it’s a great motivator. Dissatisfaction spawns desire and starts the ball rolling for improvement and change. But I guarantee you’ll never be able to fix the thing you’re complaining about simply by complaining.

You will need to DO something. Change your behavior, or motivate someone else to change theirs. Or both.

And don’t whine to me about how hard it is to change. Nobody ever said it was easy, but nobody said you have to do it all at once.

You got where you are today little by little. Your life is the way it is today because of a gradual progression of minor events. And that’s the same way you’re going to be able to change. Gradually. The only thing that will happen overnight is your commitment to stop whining.

If things aren’t going the way you want, or you’ve hit an obstacle, or life is more pits than cherries, stop complaining and change! But first be thankful for what you DO have, because it could ALWAYS be worse.

Still moaning? Maybe you need to read my book, "Do I Need To Slap You?"

The Danger of Downsized Dreams

I think the biggest loss I’ve had as a result of the crashing economy is not my 401(k), not the value of my home, not my overall loss of net worth, not financial liquidity, but my loss of optimism.

My optimism was always one of my best qualities (in my opinion). It fueled my ambitions and my creativity. It allowed me to take risks – without fear – experiment, try new things, and dream.

Now I’m in a funk. I worry that if I lose my job it will be very hard to find a new one. I worry that I don’t have a big enough cash cushion. I worry my tenant will move out and I’ll have to dump my rental property for peanuts. I worry that I’m not enjoying the moment. I worry that I’m not working enough. I’m not sleeping well. I’m not concentrating well. My brain is reined in by pessimism.

The ONLY good thing is I’ve lost my appetite and I can get back into my “skinny” jeans. (That’s always the way it is for me, by the way – blobby and happy, or miserable and svelte)

My dreams have TOTALLY been downsized. Whereas before I was thinking about making a million with a new product/company/book and buying the house of my dreams and getting a new car, NOW I dream about not having any major health issues and keeping my job so I can continue to pay all my bills. That’s it.

Some would say having simpler dreams or desires is a good thing. Perhaps so – but in my case it has come hand in hand with fear about the future.

Where did this negativity come from?? I don’t get it. Actually NOTHING about my personal situation has changed in the last few months or even year. In fact, it’s actually gotten better. The problem is, I’ve allowed all these outside factors to affect me and penetrate my little bubble of optimism. What the news says, seeing people I know go through hard times, and projecting what could happen to me. In other words, if THIS happens and THAT happens and THAT happens all at the same time, I’m SCREWED.

I’ve always been good at having what I call a little “escape route” emergency plan. I always knew what I would do in the worst possible scenario. Now I don’t feel so confident about it.

And worst of all, I don’t feel so confident about me. It really pisses me off, because if I go back and think about what it was I wanted to achieve, I actually achieved it. I DID do what I set out to do. So if I didn’t achieve something else more, it’s probably because I didn’t set out to do it.

To me, that’s the biggest problem with downsized dreams – they generate downsized results. If you only ever desire to “just get by,” that’s all you’ll ever achieve. And you get yourself into this terrible little hole where you measure success by “just getting by.” Pretty soon you will begin to believe that’s the extent of your ability: just getting by. It’s a poisonous attitude.

I am exactly the same person I was 6 months ago. I have not had major brain damage to affect my faculties or abilities (to the best of my knowledge). All my years of experience and training have not all of a sudden evaporated. My brain’s “net worth” is still the same.

Frankly, the only thing standing in the way of restoring my full-sized dreams and optimism to their pre-2009 levels is…me.

Do I need to slap you? Maybe. But I know one thing for sure. One person who really needs a good slap upside the head is me.

Men = Kittens

About a year ago, a Momcat and her 4 kittens adopted my patio as a safe haven. The kittens were so cute I couldn’t stand it. The other reason I couldn’t stand it was because I’m highly allergic to cats. Even moreso than dogs. But they were so damn cute. I even named them: Fuzzball, Moxie, Patches and Lumpy. I fed Momcat and her kittens. Never got close enough to pet them, but in the end I had them taken away. They’re presumably in Kitten Heaven somewhere.

About 4 months ago, it happened again. A new golden stripy Momcat and her three black kittens. Once again I fed them. Didn’t name them, because I couldn’t tell them apart. They disappeared after awhile (which was fine), but then a few weeks later one of the kittens started showing up in my patio in the evening.

She sits patiently, staring through the sliding glass window until I come out and give her some food. After she eats, she sits again and stares patiently until I come out and rub her tummy. Sometimes she stares at me because she’s not thrilled with what’s on the menu (I feed her mostly table scraps). She nuzzles my ankles, nibbles my toes and is generally adorable. I’ve named her Inky. She has another sibling with a white snowflake on its chest I’ve named Flakey, and another sibling mostly black I’ve named Stinky. But I don’t see Flakey and Stinky these days, only Inky. Perhaps they’ve adopted some other humans.

Now Inky shows up in the mornings too. She’s not as cuddly in the morning – I guess she’s not a morning cat – and sometimes she’s curled up in one of the patio chairs. I’m trying to decide what to do. Do I formally adopt her? Do I take her to the Vet and get her “fixed” and inoculated? I have to keep her outdoors. My allergy isn’t going away. In fact, I’m quite certain I’m not getting a cold this year because of all the OCD hand washing I’m doing.

It’s hard to justify “getting rid” of her. After all, she just wants some food and some cuddling. That’s it.

And then it hit me.

Why, Inky is just like ALL the men I’ve ever known! Inky’s needs are just like a man’s. And all men are kittens!

Feed me.
Be nice to me.
Cuddle me (i.e. give me a you-know-what).

In return, I’ll be cute, warm, fuzzy and purr when you touch me.

When it comes to kittens, we’re ok with it. We don’t worry about “active listening” or “tenderness.” We like it when they get all excited when we walk in the room – even though all they want is a bit of tuna. We don’t really care when they go off in the middle of the day. We know they’ll be back for dinner. And cuddling.

They get to be taken care of. And we get to believe we have “a companion.”

So it is with kittens as it is with men. Think how much easier your life would be if you could think of your man as a big, soft kitten. A kitten who actually rubs you back (now and then).

So gals, my advice is, simplify your life!. Stop trying to make your man into something he’s not. Something that goes against his nature. He’s just a ManKitten.Your job is to feed your ManKitten, be nice to him, and rub his…erm…tummy. His job is to show up for dinner, and purr when you pet him. He’ll look at you lovingly when you serve him food, and howl if you’re not there when he expects it.

That’s all there is to it. You’re not going to make your man into an uber-girlfriend, ever. You can’t force him to be more sensitive or attentive. He’s a ManKitten. A simple creature. Stop expecting him to change. Instead, embrace his inner ManKitten-ness.

And accept the fact that there might be more than one pussy in the house (oh, did I just say that??)

(And for more wit and wisdom, check out my book.)

Why I'll Never EVER Marry Again

The other day I was talking to a friend of mine about her relationship. She’s having some second thoughts about her engagement, and thinking hard about what she really wants out of life.

We talked about lots of things, including our families and upbringing. I had a small “a-ha” moment.

I’m pretty different from the rest of my family, for better or worse. But I’ve always been different – wanting to try new things and take more risks. I worked really hard throughout my life to move away from my very strong familial pull. Throwing off those old patterns and ingrained responses takes a lot of energy. It’s easier to just do things the way you’ve been taught. But I went out of my way (I suppose) to choose a different path.

Along the way, however, I still felt the responsibility to play by familial rules. I was still expected to do certain things, and act a certain way – and I dutifully did it. But whenever I was able to escape, it was a wonderful feeling of release. In fact, at one point I even left the country for 9 years!

While talking to my friend, I realized the key reason I felt content and relieved after my divorce. I was again free of “familial” obligations. I didn’t have to “do” anything because it was expected of me. I could just get on with my life.

I guess I’m a completely selfish bitch.

But having spent so many of my formative years trying to escape the familial bonds and requirements, I now realize I have no desire to go back into it.

I prefer to do things because I want to do them – not because I have to.

I love cooking. I can spend all day cooking. I love making elaborate meals for my friends. But the minute I feel that I’m cooking every night because I “have” to – in other words, my sweetie is expecting dinner – I resent it.

When I was single again, I loved being in control of my days. When my sweetie and I first started dating, I could invite him over when I wanted to see him, and have days off on my own too - so could he for that matter. But it was always our choice, not our obligation.

I hate feeling obligated. It feels too much like guilt. It’s the feeling I hated growing up. The obligation to do a certain thing or act a certain way because someone else wanted it. I run screaming in the opposite direction of that feeling.

Marriage requires too many obligations. I’m not interested in signing up for that again.

My Sagging Economy

There are a lot of statistics in the news about what’s down in the nation - housing sales, value of the dollar, consumer purchases. And I’d like to add one more leading indicator to that list: my ass. Time is marching on, and as part of that progression, my ass is marching down the backs of my legs. Not to mention the southern migration of my boobs, face and perhaps the most horrific, back flab. The problem is, I’m not happy with any of the possible solutions.

I did some thinking about this, and I’ve decided the options are thus:

1. Slice it all off and sew it higher up. A lot of women opt for this approach—more and more it appears, but it’s just not for me. I see too many Frankenstein-y looking women who just don’t look quite right. Maybe they do the first time around, but here’s the thing. You can’t do it just once. It’s not permanent. GRAVITY is permanent, but face/butt/boob lifts, no matter how fabulous they are, aren’t. And each time you pull up again, it looks scarier and scarier.

2. Lose every ounce of body fat. There was a woman I used to see in my yoga class. In clothes, she looked striking – tall, lanky, with very short-cropped white hair. But in her yoga togs you could see she was a stick insect. Nothing sagged, because there WAS nothing – no butt, no boobs, no curve. She was shaped like a tall skinny boy. And because she always had a deep tan, she was a tall skinny boy raisin. So I suppose I could go on a concentration-camp diet, but a. it doesn’t sound like much fun, and b. I kind of like having a butt to sit on.

3. Become a little more upholstered. Curvier women seem to sag less. Faces look younger. Edges are softer. Notice how beautifully Sophia Loren has aged? She’s still shaped like Sophia Loren. So I guess I could gain weight. But frankly, that is not an attractive option to me at all. I’ve put on 2-3 pounds since I started working full-time in an office and I’m already hating it. Stuff hangs over the top of my jeans when I sit – or as I mentioned before, I can feel FOLDS in my back above my waist! Gaaaaaah. I don’t want more of that. I want less.

But the tricky thing is finding that balance between minimizing sagginess and not veering too far off to either side of the continuum. Which of course, causes so much mental anguish.

So I suppose there IS one other option – which although obvious, is not so easy: Just get over it. Just get over it. It’s what happens. Sagging happens. Menopause happens. Wrinkles happen. Gray hair happens (but it happens to be easy to cover it up!) Yeah, I’m getting older. Gee, what a surprise. What part of “FIFTY” is a surprise to me?

I even bought some shoes at EASY SPIRIT fergawdsakes. I felt like I should be shopping there with a hat and mustache glasses so no one would recognize me. I’ve secretly confessed to friends of my purchase with great embarrassment. But with that purchase, I suppose I have finally embraced my middle-aged sagginess. It is what it is.

With the sobering realization that I probably have more yesterdays than I have tomorrows, comes the realization that I better spend time worrying about things of more consequence, and spending my time more productively. After all, life, no matter how saggy is always better than the alternative.

Fishing with a net vs. hunting

I’m not a particularly outdoorsy person. I like to ski…but I don’t like to be cold. I like to ride my bicycle. I like to walk through woods…but there really aren’t any in south Florida. My primary outdoorsy passion is water. I love to scuba dive. I’m not really that keen on fishing. I love to look at fish, and I love to EAT them, but the idea of dangling a net in the water for hours on end and hoping something edible swims in holds no appeal.

I do enjoy hunting for lobsters. I sort of like the fact that you spend all the time looking for them. You may find one, and you may not. And then you may not be able to catch it. If it were easy, like going to the supermarket, it wouldn’t be so much fun. The hunt is the most fun part.

I bring all this up, because I have a new friend who is single, and dating. In the few short months that I’ve known her, she has been basically unsuccessful in finding a suitable man to see more than twice. I was initially worried that it was somehow my fault. After all, I was the unusual variable over the last few months. But as I chatted with her, I realized it may have more to do with her particular approach. Fishing with a net, vs. hunting.

Up ‘til now, my friend has been fishing with a net. Her “net” has been people she knows, and she has relied on them to throw out the net. She’s a very patient fisherchick. She waits. She looks gorgeous. And she waits. Eventually something swims into the net.

Because she is fishing, she dutifully inspects whatever creature shows up in the net. Maybe one date. Maybe two. A few odd phone conversations or text messages. But since I’ve known her, everything that got caught in the net had to be thrown back.

She’s disappointed for a few days. Then the net is thrown out again, and she re-starts the whole process.

But hunting is a whole different kettle of fish. With hunting, you get a picture in your mind of what you want, and you go out looking for it. If you don’t find it, so be it. The next day, you go hunting again. And so on, until you finally find what you’re hunting for.

As I’m somewhat of a control freak, the idea of hunting and taking the initiative is quite appealing. I prefer to select what I’m getting – not simply ACCEPT what’s given. In my friend’s case, I fear she is simply accepting what swims by. No WONDER she’s often disappointed.

Imagine shopping at Target, blindfolded, with a big net. You’d have to buy whatever you picked up. Ok, maybe Target is a bad example, because so much of what’s there I would buy anyway. Ok, take Kmart as an example…but perhaps I digress.

The point is, I think you need to take a more active role in your hunting – particularly with relationships. But this requires that you have a good idea what you are hunting FOR in the first place.

Too often, we set out simply wanting SOMEone. A warm body. An object.

It’s so important that you have a reasonably specific idea of what/who you want. Qualities, spirit, personality. Things that are important to YOU. If you have not yet defined what’s truly important to you, I think it’s highly unlikely you will actually find it!

My point is, with something as important as your potential soul mate, you must take an active, hunting role. You must figure out exactly what you want, and then go about finding “it." Participate in the activities where you’re most likely to find “it.” Keep your eyes out, and your ears open. Don’t wait for something to swim into the net – unless you’re not really that interested in finding someone.

And perhaps that’s one of the most important first steps. Decide in your heart if you’re really in the mood to find someone at all. With my friend, I sense perhaps that’s the crux of the matter…

Catching nothing but smelly sardines in your net? Check out my book, “Do I Need To Slap You”