Midwestern Suffocation

After a weekend of traveling the friendly skies I have noticed some… annoying traveling habits of fellow flyers. There are those that crack their gum, those that shuffle cards for three hours (WTF?!), and those that disclose their life's story. 

I usually sit beside the latter of the group. In my family we call this the Asher Curse: where the world by one glance deems that you are a wise sage and have the answer to why their marriage fell apart or how to get through their next bout of depression. Personally I think the world can't afford therapy but somehow when they're trapped on a plane in an overbooked flight it's a great time to unload!

I've learned to enter the plane with headphones, apologizing to the talkers that I need it for the air pressure on my ears. Occasionally I sense nervousness from the person beside me and then we talk to take their mind off the rocky flight. And sometimes there are just delightful people to have conversations with. 

Unfortunately the guy behind me is not having this scenario. He has many strikes against his getting a nap in: he's British and therefore a novelty to all Midwesterners/Southerners (I'm in Texas right now), he's in the center aisle and therefore no chance of escape, he's sitting next to a conservative and elderly military guy with countless stories and opinions, and he must have left his headphones in his bag (doh!). 

If I run into him in the bathroom line I will attempt to run an op and ease him into weaning himself out of cauliflower ear for the rest of the flight. I might pretend to have run into him earlier and give him a new pair of earplugs (I carry a stash). But for now, he'll have to just suck it up and take one for the team because he's on his own. 

I noticed when I was in the teeny tiny Kansas airport there was what is described as a friendly Kansan. Now most Kansans are friendly but this is over the top. She talks to EVERYONE in sight, asking them all sorts of generic and personal questions and sharing every single thing about herself. She assumes an instant bond and sits beside you keeping the conversation going. This is the person that will ask to change seats to be near you and want to exchange addresses to be pen pals. I left her to use the restroom and she had befriended another, wondering aloud if Dallas (directly south of us) is in the same time zone. 

Oh my. Time for headphones. 

I have changed so much. I used to be a milder version of this girl but now I respect that people share and converse at their own pace. I can sit and have a lovely conversation and never exchange names; it's not always necessary. Or I can go without talking at all. So now instead of finding this friendliness well… friendly… I see it as invasive and somewhat inauthentic. I hope this girl has a safe and uneventful flight, good luck in her midterms, and a wonderful time visiting her boyfriend of three months in Colorado. However, I will forgo friending her on Facebook and I hope she doesn't internalize this. 

On the other hand, the guy next to me wants to change seats? Sure, whatever. The kid across the aisle wants to use the empty bin above me? No problem. The guy behind me wants to bring me into the conversation with the Tea Party guy? Oops sorry, I've got earphones and can't hear you. 

All About Women

Happy International Women's Day!! What a perfect time to celebrate. I spent the weekend on the anniversary of my Mom's passing with several strong and wonderful women who helped mold and shape the person I am and celebrated my mom- a woman who taught me unconditional love and the kind of woman I want to be. I'm also at a crossroads in a relationship where I'm wondering what the balance of compromise is: when is it not enough and when is it too much?

And just as it always does, Life provides an answer. I was scrolling through Facebook this morning as I was getting ready and came across a post from Nuno Bettencourt. If you're into 80s metal bands you'll recognize this gorgeous rocker. If not, you'll want to. He posted the following statement: 'Strong women don't play victim, don't make themselves look pitiful, and don't point fingers. They stand and they deal.' I agree with every word but it's what he said to preface that moved me:

"Ladies… today is International Women's Day. 

It's your day to be celebrated, recognized, and acknowledged. But for all of us men, it has to be every day that we celebrate you. 

Guys… the real power of a man is in the size of the smile of the woman sitting next to him… show your love and admiration for your girl, your woman, your mom every chance you get. They are your equal and need to be respected as your equal. Kiss them every chance you get. Squeeze them really hard. Don't take them for granted…

Empower them and they will empower you back. Cheers to all the amazing women around the world!

#internationalwomen'sday #partners #powerful #love #admiration"

Can I just add a couple of hashtags to the mix? #Loveitandloveyou!! #madrespect #wherearethemenwhothinkthisway?? #goodheavensareyousingle?

Okay, so I don't have the whole hashtag thing down but I do know how amazing it was to come across that post. I read it to my sister and she was impressed, calling it a rare example of emotional maturity. It made me question whether emotional maturity is an innate and therefore inevitable point for people to come across or whether this is a chosen and/or hard-won path. 

I would think that Life's curve balls would force one into maturity but then Wendi pointed out several examples of people of all ages- people we know very well- that never reached it and probably never will. This is a humbling lesson and also a wake up call. If you are surrounded by people that are emotionally immature, i.e. they don't compromise, they're full of absolutes, they run from problems or adversity, they are close-minded... they may just stay that way. Eek! 

I think the only thing I have going for me is that I do change. I try to learn from my  many (add *gasp*) many mistakes and grow from them. I can't imagine a life where you are so set in fear of the unknown that you remain stagnant or worse, regress.

Therefore it is even more impressive that this guy is out there celebrating women and taking the time to empower others. So I would like to take this moment to toast Nuno (choose adult beverage of your choice... mine will be an 18-year-old Bunnahabhain) and to say how much I appreciate the standard you set for all men. Slàinte!

Best of the Worst: SNAGadu

Unfortunately, I can easily do a whole series on my worse-case scenarios: dates, exes, breakups, etc. Also, rather unfortunately, I enjoy these experiences because they're a hell of a good story. To start off, let's not undermine my idea of the worst. For instance, my best of the worst in movies would include Urban Cowboy (a story about a mechanical bull rider who wants to be a better mechanical bull rider), or Baptists at My BBQ (a story about a Baptist that dares to intermingle with modern-day Mormons). How can you beat that for favorite bad movies?

So for my best bad date let's go with SNAGadu. He is a now famous story that my friends occasionally ask me to reenact. I met him when I had first moved to North Carolina. He was several years older than I was, had a PhD is Gaelic studies (if you know me, this is cool), wrote a book, recorded a CD- all-in-all, very talented and interesting individual. I thought surely this guy is  smoochable. Turns out not so much.

We were both at a ceilidh and I noticed that he "presented" himself to each partner with great theatrical elan. I should not have ignored this. I also noticed that most of my friends thought he was gay. Despite these barriers, I carried on and we had our first (and last) date. We met at this restaurant and he kept asking the waitress if she honored the NPR coupon. In fact he harassed the woman so much I thought she was going to leave for the night. Turns out this was a 2-for-1 coupon he was trying to get.

The conversation began and he asked me very specific questions: could I sing opera?; had I ever illustrated a children's book?; was I part Cherokee? To most this would seem odd until you knew that these were all things his ex-girlfriend was. Then the conversation went downhill: "I'm a SNAG." "Huh?" I say, half listening. "I'm a SNAG: a Sensitive New Age Guy." "Ugh," I reply, not even able to hide my disgust. He proceeded to tell me all about himself- the fact that he was a 40-year-old man living in a hippie commune, how 'theatrical' he was, etc. etc. By the end of dinner I was past wanting to go home. I had cable and the History channel and surely it was better than this.

"Let's get gelato," he insisted. "You know, I think I'm done," I replied. But after even more insisting I caved and agreed to walk the block and a half to the gelato store. We go in, he selects his, I select mine and then he leaves the store... many awkward moments pass as both the server and I realise that he intentionally wanted to stick me with the bill. I guess he wasn't over not getting that 2-for-1 discount.

I go out and he skips down the street, pointing his toes. "What do you think of my new shoooooes?" he sings. "Did you just skip like a little girl?" I ask, "I kind of want to punch you for that." This violence from me brushed aside, he repeats his lilt and then tells me how he got them for $1 at the garage sale. I sigh. We can skip through the tirades about his family, the Bad Renaissance festival jokes in poor accents, and all of his other delightful personality… quirks.

As we walked back to our cars he asked me what the story is on my friend, Brenda. "Are you seriously asking about my friend while we're on a date?!" "Well, it's just that I met her first, and well, I was just curious about her status." Good grief, and yet I was more offended that he skipped like a little girl.

He asked me out the following day. I told him I had t.v. that took precedence, i.e. NO. The good news is that my father (known to threaten castration to... say a brother-in-law at the Wedding Rehearsal) heard this story. He has never met any of my boyfriends (can you blame me??) but he heard about SNAGadu. And while he chuckled about the idea of he and SNAGadu skipping down to the barn together I know that I saved any guy I might introduce to my dad. After all, he only has to have the tiniest bit of testosterone and walk upright and he'll be now be golden with my dad. I should probably be embarrassed that my dad thinks this is what I attract but I prefer to see it as paving the way to the future. Any guy I get serious with has no idea the favor I just did for him.

Jinx! I Owe You a Coke

Okay, I don't want to write this post because I don't want to jinx this. But this is a blog about dating so I should just put this out there: I'm kind of sort of getting to know someone and I like him. Good gosh, what a coward I am!

Here's the thing, it's been a couple of months now and there's so far nothing really wrong with him. Well, his taste in politics is iffy but as long as he gives a good shoulder massage, who cares! In fact there are freakish things we have in common that frankly, two people should not simultaneously co-exist and have in common. I'm not quite sure what I would do if he shares my favorite bad movies too (oops! he does!!).

I have been quietly observing myself and my reactions in getting to know him and it's been quite interesting. To be honest with you, I'm used to people picking and choosing what they think is cool about me; at best, they see me as a novel creature. People tend to focus on one part of my personality they like and ignore the rest, willing it away. It's maybe what happens when you're an eclectic personality.

This time, however, I feel... normal... What an odd thing to be. I'm a vagabond, having moved 10 times in my adult life. I'm a Native/Scot/German who is Greek Orthodox. I have a love for '80s metal bands, esoteric languages, and the fiber arts. I'm a Mongolphile and have more than a little crush on Genghis Khan. There's never been anything "normal" about me and even my closest family scratches their heads about me.

So I sit and observe myself and I realise that I'm a commitment-phobe all of which is very fear-driven. "Duh," the world seems to say and I say that too but I see the very manipulative ways I play with my own mind. I tend to always look for ways out instead of reasons to stay. I see a teeny tiny crack and I basically bulldoze it until there's an unrepairable hole. But I'm not doing that this time, or at least I am trying my damnedest not to.

I think the next question is if I've been doing this my whole life how many great men have I let go? Surprisingly, not many. Seriously, have you READ my blog?? There are a few exes that have remained friends, guys that are good guys. I'm glad we got through the hurdles and became friends but I don't look back: there were very good reasons those relationships ended and it wasn't all because of me or all because of them- it was just time to end.

I also know that a lot of my fear has to do with protecting my heart. Losing my mom- even saying those words makes me tear up- that was the single worst thing that ever happened. And if you know me, that's saying a lot. Going through Life's milestones seem rather insignificant when I couldn't share them with her. I have very little family left and I've become rather skittish about adding more people to care about; I know how devastating it is to lose them.

So here I sit, observing myself and my fears. I'm not fighting these feelings or stuffing them down inside, just sitting in a Buddhist-like observation. Even so I move forward in getting to know this guy. I don't want to jinx anything by even mentioning him but I need to get over that too. Already I am moving in a good direction if I'm attracting people into my life like him. And even if this goes no further I can't tell you how wonderful it is to be free to fully be yourself and I also can't tell you how much I enjoy getting to know him.

Photo IDs

I've always had this thing for spy movies. I imagine myself some svelte honeypot with a lethal Black Widow vibe. I now live in the city with the most spies in the world. I've also been to the Spy Museum more than I care to count, have memorized my game secret identity (I am a 58-year-old fisherman from Russia visiting family in Boston named Igor)- see, isn't this fun?? 

I've also shown my many IDs to my new friends here; friends whom have never seen me with anything other than silver locks. One was my passport where I'm sporting long, dark brown hair with side-swept bangs. One is my old driver's license with shorter, curly light auburn hair. The other is my badge with a long red ponytail and bangs. 

I am in-cog-ni-to, so incognito that I have no photo IDs that can sucessfully get me through the airport. Luckily I have a new VA driver's license that shows my silver hair because I've been stopped more than anyone by TSA. 

Happy of all happies? My passport and badge are also up for renewal. FINALLY. Okay my passport expired. Yes, it expired last year and I refused to have two-tone hair for a 10-year photo. So in my uber vanity I decided to wait until I graduated and my hair grew out a bit before I renewed it. I extended said vanity by looking at Yelp.com for the best place to get said passport. Don't judge, you do it too. 

I just completed the overly complicated process for renewing my badge. Tomorrow I will get dolled up and have my photo taken... and fingerprints taken... and violation of any semblance of privacy... Anyhoo. 

This may not seem like a big deal but it really is because my identity includes being a silver sister. I'm not a redhead, or auburn, brunette, or colour d'jour. I AM a silver sister. Something about updating all of your IDs and having those IDs reflect you as you are now is just another level of acceptance. This is another way of severing the past and embracing the future and the new you. I may not blend into the background anymore and I just gave up any hope of my spy fantasy but I certainly feel way more interesting.

Best Conditioner in the World

It is Winter here and that means dry everything- cracking hands, wind burnt face, chapped lips, and brittle hair.

No matter what, I always seem to want to buy the next miracle brand of product. This is probably because I'm American and a born consumer but I'm always convinced that there's going to be some fix-all product out there for my hair. Well there is and it's coconut oil.

I've raved about the wonders of coconut oil before but it never ceases to amaze me. I'm now dealing with dye-free hair that's in its healthiest state in 20 years. I can't blame the state of my hair on the dyed and fried ends or from keratin treatments. Now I'm seeing my hair and its unique personality. Lately this personality has revealed itself to be moisture-lacking dull grey hair.

I've gone to some of my miracle products- from the cheaper end Frizz-ease lotion (which made my hair seem a litle less dry but still a bit crispy), to my mid-range serum (which made my hair feel dry with an oily coat), to the high-end Living Proof (which made my hair feel dry with a waxed coat). Maybe these shouldn't be miracle go-to products after all?

It wasn't until I thought about my old friend the coconut oil that I used it as a last resort. Well I guess the best was saved for last because it instantly transformed my hair! It is so luxe and soft now. There are many uses for coconut oil and I'm going to list some below: 

Internal Health 

A tablespoon swallowed is good for you. I take one and melt one over my dog's food. I believe it gives us both a shiny coat. 

Cracked Skin 

I use this on elbows and also the pads of my dog's paws. A few uses and we're both feeling better. 

Makeup Remover 

This is the single-best eye makeup remover I've come across. It can take off any mascara without pulling out half of your eyelashes. 

Quick Hair Fix 

A little goes a long way so for my just-past-the-shoulders hair I use a teaspoon (if that). I take a little bit, rub it in my hands until it's an oil, and distribute through my hair very sparingly. You'll see an instant change in your hair and in an hour your hair will be perfectly hydrated. 

Deep Conditioner 

Here I use a tablespoon or more and coat my hair. Some people cover their hair and sleep with this in but I find that leaving it in for an hour and washing it out works well. You'll never have to buy expensive hair products again.

New 'Do

It's been a minute since I had a haircut... six months, to be exact. I went in, sheepishly hiding under my hat and awaiting the wrath of a new stylist lecturing me on the importance of haircuts every six weeks. Enter Yorda, a Senior Stylist at PR Partners in Shirlington.

Now I'm going to stop for a minute and reiterate how difficult it is to find a good stylist, especially if you're a silver sister. Stylists seem too often to shame people into thinking they need hair dye. Even the subtlest of raised and exasperated eyebrows, the sighs of "what are we going to do with THIS hair," or the half-assed effort spent on you. You'd think I was exaggerating but it's still too common for stylists to think that since you own your grey you have somehow given up on yourself and require the bare minimum from them.

Grr.

So when I DO find a great stylist, I want to pass that information on. I would like to say that Yorda was great- she loved my color on me, listened to my goals of growing my hair out, and gave me a cut to get me where I was aiming. She gave an awesome consultation, asking what I liked about different photos and really explained what she was going to do and why. Awesome! And she did this all while commenting on how healthy my hair was. Double Bonus!

I think the comfort started at the get-go when there was a detailed form I had to fill out. This has my goals, whether I wanted to talk about hair color, etc. It's a standard form they collect on everyone and I felt free to list that I liked my color, had no intention of dyeing it. I could also put in my allergy with hairspray and my desire to not use curling irons/flat irons (still not trusting after the one burned and yellowed that section of my hair). That was helpful as I didn't feel critical or high-maintenance, but still felt like I had a voice in my hair.

And voila! I don't feel like I lost any length but she thinned out the bottom and took that bulky weight out. It feels so much healthier and I love it. I also noticed that it lightened my hair. Apparently I am greying at a rapid pace and every cut shows lighter and lighter hair. I now have an ombre going down my hair that is purely natural. At this rate, I'll be white in 5 years! I'm not sure that this is normal, but it's kind of cool all the same.