“Our habitual way of living is to take things so much for granted. We always think there’s gonna be another day. We always think there’s gonna be another chance. In some sense, we think it’s gonna go on forever. And therefore, we don’t pay attention. This moment only happens once, in all of eternity. We think that time and eternity are two different things, but they’re not.” Reggie Ray
There is some kind of weird mojo that happens when you buy a caravan. I think you put out a scent that other caravaners pick up on or something because all of a sudden, whenever we are out in public, we hesitate in a step, and we are surrounded by caravanners, slapping us on the back, telling us their life stories, and showing us pictures on their phones.
Everyone is “Del and Betty” or “Bernie and Sue.” They have cute little names for their caravans, matching shirts, and they know everything about caravanning. Except …. everyone’s “everything knowing” is diametrically opposed to everyone else’s. It’s a three ring circus minus that flying monkeys but with a really freaky sideshow.
We start hearing stories about the dangers of “some of those idiots” out there. These are stories about the very young, the very wealthy, and basically anyone who doesn’t do it like they do. People warn us about things get stolen, how some parks cheat you and how people siphon diesel. People warn us about “Al and Barb from Queensland” driving a later model Jayco, who you can’t get rid of if they latch on to you. They talk caravan dealers and tell you tons of horror stories about your dealer, reciting the same crap you hear 90 million times at the caravan shows and dealers. They usually start with things like “You won’t find another dealer who makes their hinges like ours does . . . ” Continue reading →
Well, it wasn’t quite that easy. It was actually a very long, drawn-out process.
First, there was the part where Derek started telling me about several friends who had awesome experiences caravaning. Of course he always just “happened” to run into these long lost friends, that I had never heard him mention before, at the grocery store, or the gym, or basically anywhere where I wasn’t and neither was any other witness that could confirm the whole event. He assured me, even if I was getting older and my memory was clearly beginning to fail, he had indeed, mentioned these people many times before.
Then we had the period where he sold me on all the wonderful places in Australia that he wanted to show me, places that, sadly I probably would never get to see because (insert wailing and gnashing of teeth here and tether your wrist to your forehead with velcro) we didn’t have a caravan. You would need one because it would take weeks to get to these places and we would be out in the wilderness, seeing things maybe no other white man but him had seen. Certainly no other white Canadian woman would have seen them. He found all his beautiful picture books and told me of his epic tales of long ago and things there were to see just outside of the range of the picture in the book. He always seemed to turn the channel and find a show on Discovery, filmed by National Geographic, narrated by David Attenborough, about the wilds of Australia and the privileged few who would ever get to see these areas . . . in that you would have to have a (the wailing velcro thing again) caravan to get to. I think Derek even covered the television with extra gauze. Continue reading →
I saw this video this morning, clicked on it to view it on You Tube and was blown away by how many videos there are on this subject.
Articles, books and information regarding Narcissists and Gaslighting are everywhere. It begs the question as to how, when there is so much information out there, people still don’t understand the way they are behaving is not normal?
Why? Because Narcissists, like Psychopaths, do not have empathy. They don’t ever look at themselves or take responsibility for their lives. Continue reading →
They say that every baby cries when it hears the cries of another child. I was born crying. I have always wept for others, even those who are not crying. I hear their inner cries. I see their tears, even when their faces are frozen in perfect smiles and they are repeating the mantra, they were given with the promise if they just believe it enough, they have the power to make it happen . . . “I am fine.”
Except they aren’t.
And some things cannot be wished away or overcome with pretty words meant to hide the dirt they are being spoken over.
We understand when someone has a car accident and loses their limb that it is a forever deal. We accept physical damage. If you are going to drive a car after you drink, you could have an accident, and if you have an accident you could cause damage to your body or another’s. Sometimes that damage is permanent and nobody would stand and tell you that if you put a picture of a healthy arm on the fridge, and repeat “My arm is healthy, perfect, and functioning now,” 21 times each day . . . you will be rewarded with a new arm.
One of the blessings of getting older is that life slows down a lot, and the need for you to tend to every small detail for all the people you are responsible for and too, pretty much ends. Your kids are grown up and don’t need/want your advice, you no longer have a company hounding you for that deadline, and the general public thinks you just need a pat on the hand and an “aww isn’t she cute” once in awhile.
You get a lot of time to sit and look. You think.
Were we this obsessed with having everything? Probably. But our wants were not so much about fame and things way beyond our life probabilities, they were more about things that allowed us to be part of the average and edging to better. We surprised ourselves by surpassing that at times, but most of us breathed evenly when we were holding our own. In the end, we can say we did OK. We know that other did much better and others did not even come close. We did OK.
Now it seems to be about being the winner, the best, the one that gets to rub everyone else’s face in it. If a friend has a $30,000.00, wedding, yours has to be $45,000.00 and instead of establishing status quo with your peers, it is a process of leap frogging. Meaning, you have made your life an endless treadmill. There will never be a point where you just sit back and enjoy it. Continue reading →
Yesterday at the hair salon I picked up a magazine and read a quote by someone saying something to the effect that people wonder why everyone is so transfixed on Kim Kardashian and his response was that is was because she is so “real.”
I choked on my water.
How the hell did we get here? Can it be possible that an entire generation could be defined by their inability to know the difference between what is real and what is …not? Kim Kardashian is not like anyone I know or have met in the real world. Her lifestyle, her opportunities are not only unattainable for 99.999999% of the population, of what value are they to anyone? Including herself?
Is someone’s life really enhanced by having a whole separate closet for your choices of exercise clothes alone? And if it is, can someone explain it to me? Apart from having more of everything than anyone could possibly need or use in their lifetime, having each of those items singularly cost more than many middle class people’s weekly or even monthly salary, is obscene. How does it help? Is she a better person because of it? Does she bless the lives of others more because of it? Is the world a better place because of that? And THIS is what we want people to think of as normal so that they all spend their lives trying to achieve it, fail, and then, also fail to have ever done one thing that might have actually been normal and worthy of a spent life? Continue reading →
Hubby likes to make sure that he gets really natural foods. We used to get our honey from the markets and a little stall complete with a woman wearing a bee costume, with black and yellow signage and a declaration signed by some 1000 bees, authenticating that they have picked her picture out of a 12 face line-up as the woman who had indeed, stolen their honey. She had bandages all over her body with penned wording and arrows stating “bee stings.” Of course, there could have been nothing under the bandaids but the visual was pretty impactful. This was a woman who almost died trying to bring us authentic , natural honey. She also had pollen hanging from the end of her nose. Again, no-one scientifically PROVED it was pollen … but we all hoped. When a whole community closes its eyes tight and pretends not to see something or agrees it is something else, it pretty much is. It is called mass imagining and I am pretty sure that it is the explanation behind why anyone thought it was a good idea to vote Tony Abbott in as Prime Minister. I have to believe that or else I have to go kill myself.
The bee woman swore her honey was raw and natural.
You are just a little boy with an impish face but the features of a man are there, hidden in the cuteness, like a almost transparent overlay that every so often catches the light just right and you can see the picture of you decades from now. You are being brave because your momy sold you on the whole idea of a hair cut. You don’t like hair cuts. You don’t like the strange smells, the scissors near your face, the buzz of a clippers and the feel of them against your skin. Most of all, you don’t like that someone else stands between you and your mommy and holds your face, but not in the way mommy does, stroking and smoothing, kissing and loving, but in a way that says “man” and “business” and wants you to turn your head or hold still . . . when all you want to do is slip out of the chair and run.
I see you weighing up the cost and doubting the process. You traded a haircut for some chocolate. You wince as the hairdresser squirts water all over your head and it drips down into your eyes. Your hand moves up instinctively to wipe it away and instead of fixing the problem, you have now transferred all the little cut hairs that were on the cape between your hand and your face, onto your face. Now, you are desperately wiping harder to get the hairs out of your nose, your eyes, your mouth . . . and every movement makes it worse. Mommy steps in and tries to help, wiping your face and kissing your forehead, trying to reassure you. She tries to make you understand you have to stop wiping with your hand, you are only making it worse. You just feel frustrated, but you try. You sit, and you struggle under the cape to be ok, but you are not. No-one seems to understand, and so your bravado, the shell of your future manhood that is so newly formed and still somewhat fragile, crumbles to the floor and you cry.
The Pez annual Easter Egg Hunt for Children, in Connecticut had to be cancelled. It wasn’t because of “the kids these days” either. Nope, it was because of the people in charge of raising “the kids these days” – their parents.
Adults suck because they are always painting their own agendas, fears, insecurities, beliefs, etc . . . all over the innocence and fun of children. Children are capable of running and playing and having fun with all the other kids. They win, they lose, they share. When they don’t share, the natural consequences of the herd take care of that. The other kids stop wanting to play with you until you learn to share. No-one gets killed or trampled in the process, you just learn that “friends” require give and take.
This Easter, one family of grandkids arrived at our home for an Easter egg hunt. It contained an older sister and 3 very close in age, very aggressive, very male, little boys. They ranged in age from 2 – 5 and are constantly competing for all things life. As they ran back and forth on the lawn finding their eggs to put in their “baskets” there were shouts of happiness and good natured taunting. There was some impromptu racing for the egg spied across the yard in the birdbath, a little bit of shoving, but mostly laughing. In the end, all tired and sweaty, proud of their efforts, they handed over their eggs to be put into the fridge to keep them from melting. No-one cared about counting who had the most. In the end, when they came out of the fridge, the children wanted them divided between them all, regardless of who had found them. Kids are capable of a heck of a lot of decent human behaviour when the adults can just back off and not project all their own crap all over them. Continue reading →