Keeping Your Hand on the Tiller

I don't know about you, but there are occasions when I could most happily kick a prick in the bits.  Oh if only that was socially acceptable.  But then if it was it probably would not be as satisfying....

I take that back.  It would be as satisfying.

I send a swift kick out to people who are devoid of empathy (not the same as sympathy, look it up).  People who dangle love and affection, but only as it suits them:  Offer limited and qualified with conditions: "Was I the cause of THAT much pain?  I hate that you told me that because THAT hurts ME.  (!!! - Ed.)  Oh, well, geez all I can truly say is - that must suck for you."

Others who are, in fact, chock full o bullshit.  Such bullshit can be:  Casual, professional, hypocritical and most importantly emotional.

God knows I have my faults and weaknesses.  But to my credit I recognize them, try to control them, speak up when they get the better of me - as in, I try not to inflict them on others.  I have scars that will always be tender; and more than my fair share of old baggage on my back.  You know that scene in Titanic when Rose is boarding with literally a truck-load of luggage (Lord that movie was an overblown waste of film)?  Okay not that much baggage.  And what with DROPPING a massive chunk o diamonds into the drink like 60 years after the fact?  Who WROTE that sappy-assed screenplay?

Meanwhile.

My point is this:  All the crappy work crap, and co-worker crappiness you are dealing with today?  That's work, don't allow it stain your life.  The old friend you thought you could always count on, but now can't?  That's just right now; sort it out and take responsibility.  And be good and generous to the new friends.  That's how old friends begin to happen.

And the worst, the lover who broke your heart?  Honey, he just....  He just did.  There are no answers and nothing to be done about it. 

It just is.  Jackass though he may be.

As difficult as it is (and it is difficult), you must MUST keep your hand firm on the tiller, as long as it takes to get you to calmer waters.  The stronger you are, as you choose to be, the more steady the sailing.

And that's hard to do when you are also trying to knee someone in the groin, so just pick the task that will serve you better.

What Never to Say to a Woman.

I'm in DC right now visiting friends.  It's been a good trip.

Sunday I went shopping with my friend Drew and her two bridesmaids.  Lovely women both, I was particularly taken with her friend Meredith who reminds me of my friend Heather back home.

I like shopping as much as the next girl but lately it's been a solitary activity because all my girlfriends work and so I just end up going for whatever I need and then I'm done.

But Sunday was particularly fun.  We were looking for bridesmaids dresses so the four of us are in the dressing room, saying, Yes, No, Maybe, the length is wrong, that one smushes your breasts, etc.  When we were done all four of us spilled out of the dressing room like it was some kind of girl-shopping clown car.

Next up was shopping for Drew's trousseau, first stop was Victoria's Secret (or "Vickie's", as Meredith called it).

We were obviously all together and Drew had picked out several things to try on.

I saw a fantastic black and white bra - white with black lace - which would go perfectly with a black and white dress I have.  I don't what it is about that dress but I am always complimented on it and it's one of my favorites.

I'm thinking how fab that bra will look, and how sexy it would be to pull that dress off to reveal that bra to all the men that get to see me undress.  And when I say "all the men" I mean none, but anyway.

I go up to the chick who has been helping us and I ask for the bra in my size.

She says to me....She says, in front of God and everybody:

"So are you the mother of the bride?"

OH. MY. GOD.

I closed my eyes because the room started to spin.

When I opened them, I was immediately 10 years older and 20 pounds heavier.

I was no longer the curvy sexy tart I've always considered myself to be, but a frumpy 40-something with saggy tits and my grandmother's flat butt.

Afterwards I told the story and Meredith gave me the biggest hug and an, "OH MY GOD I AM SO. SO. SORRY!"

Drew piped up with, "Hey you know, my face is breaking out and I look really young for my age...."

I appreciated their words, but the damage was done.  DONE I SAY.

"So are you the mother of the bride?"

Never, EVER, say that to a woman.

A Chosen Family

I had a very nice dinner last night, the host a friend I have not seen in several years.  One house, four jobs and two kids ago to be exact.  He and his lovely wife are building their chosen family.

We know each other from my last ad job before law school.  Our creative director was easily the worst CD I have ever worked for.  And as I roughly count now, that's a grand total of about 20 CDs.

Although I should be, I am not ashamed to say I hated that man with the heat of a thousand suns.

He took all credit and no blame.  Only worked on the choice assignments, all the dreck to the rest of the team.  Micro-managed.  Did not understand the difference between art direction and design.  Every piece of golden creative he touched turned to lead.  His monumental lack of talent, arrogance, and appalling treatment of others drained any final love I had for my chosen profession.

We discussed him briefly last night at dinner, mainly to reaffirm that Yes, he was indeed a toad.

A poisonous, poisonous toad.

However.  Had it not been for that soul-sucking job, I would not have many of the wonderful friends I have today - namely Burns, Autumn, Jeannine (Everyone's Favorite Lesbian), Tim, Mister Rick... and in turn the friends I have made through those good folks, like Heather.

So I am grateful for that job, because it helped me build my chosen family too.

Welcome to my Gracious Home.

Jesus H. Christ on a cracker.  What a mess.

 I think this is the kitchen.

I'm prepping for painting so it looks extry unkempt. 

Check the ancient electronics.  

My friend Burns suggested, for accuracy, 

I have them carbon-dated.

The cats, Noah and Mister Smith*, have been a big o pain in the arse.  It's not like they haven't lived here before, and they have four times the space they did in DC, yet SOMEONE...is marking their territory.  And they are both neutered!  Gah!

I cannot stand, CANNOT STAND any smells in my house so I'm going round sniffing for cat scents.  I'm so adamant about smelliness I will go outside in snow and rain to smoke.

Not that I smoke, mind you, but if I did - I'd go outside in the snow and rain to do so (Hi Mom and Dad!).

 

That portrait you've read so much about.

But it is so great to be back home.  Yes, I am broke and Comcast sucks and Seattle mass transit is non-existent, but...lord I'm happy to be here, to be loved.  Color me a wimp, but I needs my friends.

Smith sez, it don't suck here.

Please come visit soon. I really want to share my nice little house, my wonderful friends, my beautiful city.

After I find the coffee pot and the toilet paper.

*Real names.  They don't care.

Regarding Father's Day

A tribute to dads, in an odd way, so bear with me. Also I have no patience whatsoever so this post is early.

My friend Kendall: Who I have written briefly about before. Kendall has been a dear, supportive friend for about eight years now. A loving and intuitive man with wonderful children, grandchildren Kendall's father never had the chance to know.

My friend Burns: A man who is cynically funny, can play the guitar BY EAR, and is a friend of the first order. He also lost his father too soon. He has two beautiful kids and has been through his share of challenges this past year.

My friend Ridley Scott*: A truly Upright Guy, insane talented director and maybe the funniest person I've ever met. I was crazy-nuts about him when I lived in CA. He was not so much The Crazy about me, but always kind and respectful. That truly showed when he came through for me when I was in one of the darkest times of my life. I met his folks once or twice and his dad was so great, so proud of him.

My friend John: An incredible illustrator whose work touches many. I kept emailing him insightful and funny missives (well, I think they were) until I finally wore him down and now we are friends. An amazing man - sweet, open, and full of kindness. He also has so much integrity I think it leaks out his ears, a potential problem for his pillowcases I would imagine. I've had the pleasure of meeting his father twice, so I now know where he gets his charm, generosity of heart, and awesome fashion sense.

My friend Christopher: An intelligent, passionate young man who had a very challenging childhood. Another man with great integrity. He just recently lost his father and my heart aches to know that his father will not be here to see how successful and influential Christopher will be. Witty, smart and informed to the point of being irritating, I am so lucky to know him.

My friend Daniel: Daniel is husband to Marie, dear friends I have written about before. Daniel is more the parent-at-home than Marie, as she is out successfully conquering the international world of advertising. Their kids are terrific and will grow up to be loving and giving adults.

What is my point? Bring it back around, Elle....

These 6 guys have been great to me in their own ways. Some in very narrow windows of time; some give what they can give; others have supported me throughout my adult life.

Although their fathers surely had faults and fallacies (like you know, people), those fathers ultimately gave me the gift of loving friends.

So Thanks from Me, to my friend's dads. Happy Father's Day.


Postscript: I really wanted to work in the phrase, "Besties With Testes", but maybe next time. Sorry Burns.



* Not the real one. Come on People - Really? I would've bragged about that a long time ago.

My Grandmother

My Mom's mom. From a German family, poor as dirt. My great-grandparents settled in Anahuac Texas (yep, real place, look it up). Population 300.

When my grandma married my grandpa and moved to Po-Dunk (pop. 80,000), she was shunned by the folks in Anahuac - she'd 'gone all Town.'

She pretty much raised me, and all the good things of my heart came from her.

Some Grandma gems:

"Your Great-Grandpa deserted from the Kaiser's Calvary. Well it was either World War One or your Great-Grandma. Otherwise you wouldn't be here, so don't judge."

........

Discussing burial plots.
Me: You've been going to The Methodist Church of Po-Dunk, maybe you want a plot there?
Grandma: Oh No, I don't want to be buried there - I want to be down Anahuac.
Me: Why? What's wrong with the Po-Dunk cemetery?
Grandma: Well I don't know all those dead people!

...........

How to cook Cajun food.
Me: Grandma, can you tell me how to make gumbo?
Grandma: Oh it's easy! You make your roux, then put in your onions and all, and cook it for six hours. Then you add your shrimp and it's done.
Me: What? What do you mean 'make your roux'?
Grandma: You cook down your lard and flour and make your roux. It only takes an hour or two.
Me: WHAT?
Grandma: If you don't know how to make your own roux, I don't know who you are related to.

..........

On moving to Austin to attend university.
"Now you listen to me!", as she grabs my hand.
A statement that always made me sit up when coming from my Grandma.
"Now I want you to have a good time, but you use those condoms!"
WHAT?
"Well you just make sure those boys keep it bagged!"

...........

On my moving to Australia in 1991.
Note the year.
"Now you listen to me!"
What - wear clean underwear? "Okay Granny, lay it on me."
"Don't you go getting the AIDS!"
Er, okay Grandma, I'm on it. Good advice.

.............

Living in Manhattan around 93, Grandma comes to visit.
We are walking through Times Square - and this is back in the day before Disney took it over - a dicey area.

Grandma, linking my arm and pulling me close: "You think folks will think we're the lesbians?"
THE lesbians? Sounds like a lot of pressure.
"Grandma, if people think we're lesbians I'm sure they're gonna think you are one lucky old broad."
"You don't know, I have a good bosom."

............

Living in Southern California around 97, Grandma comes to visit.
We go to Shutters, a hotel in Santa Monica, for its fantastic brunch which includes free and generous Mimosas.

As we leave, Grandma slips on the highly-polished marble floor and completely wipes out. A bloody nose, swollen eyes and a twisted ankle. Of course the whole hotel staff is hovering in fear of law suit.

Us: Jesus Grandma, are you okay?
Staff: Mrs. Muller, what can we do for you?
Grandma: Oh I'm fine - bring me another Mimosa! That'll help!
Me: Grans, that won't help.
Grandma: Oh well give it a minute and maybe I'll look beat up enough for ALL of us to get Mimosas!

...........

And my favorite story, one ya'll have heard before but I really must include:

After graduating from UT-Austin I moved to Dallas and one weekend she and I went antique shopping. There's a long stretch down I-35 between Dallas and Austin with lots of old warehouses selling antiques. The flat prairie of Texas' I-35 offers a whole lot of nothing to look at.

We passed several billboards advertising a retirement community in
Austin which if you are from Austin, you know it. Don't recall completely, but the boards read something like "Be Your True Self at Happy Living".

By the fourth billboard, Grandma asks, "What's this 'Happy Living'
place?"
Me, wincing a bit: "Well, it's a retirement community, I think folks over 60, who, um...are nudists. It's a nudist colony for old folks."
....
"Well that's just disgusting."
"Well I don't know, Grandma, some people think being nude is natural, and, uh..."
"Oh no," she says, "I don't mind naked people, it's naked OLD people. Who wants to look at naked old people all day?"

...........

I have so many great stories about my grandmother, all in my own head, because Alzheimer's took them from her.

So lucky to have had her in my life.

The Washington State Bar Exam

Ah, the Bar.

So many hateful things can be said about the Washington State Bar. Unlike every other state in the country, Washington has its own unique Bar. To make up for its excessive cruelty and arbitrary grading system, it only allows you reciprocity in Oregon and Utah.

I studied with my excellent friends Mike and Bex. They were both part of the Dispute Resolution team, so they were able to commandeer the Judge's Chamber in the Law School building.

We stocked it with very unhealthy snacks and even a coffee maker. We sat in that windowless room for about 10 hours a day, 6 days a week - writing flash cards, timing our essays, giving each other shit and slowly losing our minds over the six-week marathon.

We got pretty punchy.

One particularly nonsensical thing we did was listen to this song OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

From Flight of the Conchords, billed as the fourth most-popular folk parody band in New Zealand:





More on the Bar, my inspiring friend Bex, and my goofy-assed friend Mike in another post.