Making a Baby is the Funny Part

Sometimes fact is, in fact, stranger than fiction.  When life becomes weird, funny and yet touching, it is time to share… even though the subject matter is somewhat of a private nature.  Let me say, before I get going on this, that everyone involved approved my post ahead of time – they even encouraged it thinking it too good a story not to share.

For quite a few years, Emmett and I have been very good friends with Erika and Sunni.  We were even there for their wedding a few years ago.  The wedding was beautiful and it was a lot of fun for Emmett and me. There was great food, fun music, wonderful people and just enough drama to make it salacious.  Personally, I was excited because I got to tick another item off of my bucket list:  attend a gay wedding.  Of course, I had always thought more in terms of attending a gay guy wedding because, let’s be honest, it would have to be fabulous right?  Still, Erika and Sunni really rose to the occasion and threw a bash to be proud of.

Emmett and Erika are particularly close.  They both love beer… Erika brews it and Emmett is happy to taste it for her.  They are always the last ones standing at any party.  They are both outgoing and have never met a stranger.  Erika is a medic and Emmett was one in the Air Force.  They are both suckers for animals, children and old people.  They are both a little outrageous and don’t care who knows it.  They are like twins separated at birth.

Still it came as a bit of a surprise last year when Erika and Sunni asked us if Emmett would be a sperm donor.  Erika explained that they would use Sunni’s eggs and Emmett’s sperm and Sunni would carry the baby.  They thought Emmett would be a great choice because Emmett, in their opinion, is the one guy friend they have who most resembles Erika in terms of personality, plus he’s attractive.  It was flattering for Emmett.

I was surprised at my reaction.  I would have thought I would be outraged that some other women would be interested utilizing Emmett’s sperm with the thought of having a baby.  Honestly, I was touched that they trusted both of us enough to share such an important piece of their lives with us.  They told us that we would have no official responsibility towards the child but that should this work, we could be as involved, or not, as we chose.  Emmett and I talked seriously about it and decided that we would prefer to be considered a favored aunt and uncle and be included in as many life events as possible with the child.

A lot of people might ask why I didn’t mind since I have not had children with Emmett.  The answer is simple.  We tried and it didn’t happen.  We have left it in God’s hands and apparently we are not meant to have children together.  Had Emmett refused to have children with me, I think I would have felt differently.  I might have felt resentful.  In this case though, I honestly understood.  Erika and Sunni could not have a baby without help. 

The plan had always been that Sunni would carry the baby.  Erika was happy with the plan because she abhorred the thought of being pregnant, much like a guy might.  In fact, we would all laugh at the thought of a pregnant Erika.  It would be like seeing a guy pregnant.  It would be weird.  Although Erika is a woman, she embraces her masculine side.  She loves wearing jeans and t-shirts.  She wears baseball caps and loves sports and beer.  She never wears make up but does wear her hair cut very short.  She is strikingly attractive but chooses to downplay it.  When Erika and Sunni married, Sunni wore a beautiful wedding gown and Erika wore a white suit.  The only time I’ve ever seen Erika in a dress is when she dressed like a woman for Halloween.  So, when after much testing, it was determined that Sunni could not carry a baby to term, it was decided that Erika would have to be the birth mother. 

I wasn’t there in the doctor’s office with Sunni and Erika but I can only imagine, first their despair at the news that Sunni could not carry the baby and then second, the realization that Erika would have to carry the baby.  To Erika’s credit, she took it like a champ.  She rallied.  She saw the humor in the situation.

A lot of time passed and Emmett and I heard nothing from the girls.  We had moved to Alabama and we thought that perhaps they had either abandoned the project or else decided that someone closer would be more convenient.  Imagine our surprise when a few months ago, Erika and Sunni reiterated their interest in utilizing Emmett’s sperm… especially since now it would have to involve UPS and some very expensive, and strange, shipments.

The girls sent us a Styrofoam shipping package, some small vials (which contained some cloudy liquid solution), and an ice pack in preparation for the day when the call would come and Emmett would too.  The plan was that Erika would contact Emmett when she ovulated and Emmett “produce” and then rush to UPS for the last shipment of the day with first possible delivery to Erika in the morning.

A few months went by and timing proved a little challenging as Erika would ovulate when Emmett had no access to the baby kit.  Finally though this past month, Erika contacted Emmett that she was ovulating.  The timing was great.  Emmett had a break in the day and was able to lend a hand.  The problem was though he had to get to work and didn’t have time to go to UPS.  I had to do it.

So, realizing the strangeness of the situation, I took the Styrofoam box which had been carefully packaged with the now-full vial and ice pack, to UPS.  I just knew they were going to ask me what the contents were.  I just knew I was going to have to find another UPS to use in the future.  Even though it was embarrassing, I decided to use humor to cover up the mortification.  When I clerk asked what was in the package, I stated “sperm.  My husband’s actually.”  The young guy tried to remain professional but his eyebrows shot up.  The UPS store manager happened to be nearby and she told me that they have been known to ship bull sperm.  “Well,” I told her, “he’s not a bull, but he is bullheaded.”

When I left UPS, I called Emmett to let him know his sperm was on the way.  He was relieved but his thoughts were elsewhere.  “Listen, I’m trying to train Kim and she needs to make a pudding.  We are out of eggs.  I need four.  Can you deliver them to me at the restaurant?”

I stopped short.  “Are you serious?”  I asked.  “First you want me to drop off sperm and now eggs?”  Emmett laughed, “Yeah, I guess so.”  I shook my head.  “I feel like the advance team for the stork.”  We both chuckled at the bazar circumstances. 

Later that week Erika texted and said that she should know by Halloween whether or not she is pregnant, and if so the baby’s due date would be the 4^th of July.  As of this post, we don't know what the outcome will be but we do know that a universal truth has proven true:  making a baby is the fun(ny) part.

 

Create or Stagnate

It’s been a while since I last posted.  In fact, it has been almost exactly five months.  Now due to popular demand, and a shift in my own thinking, I have decided to try my hand at blogging again. 

Why, you may ask, did I stop blogging?  Was it because nothing interesting was happening down here in the Gump?  Absolutely not!  The opposite is true.  In the five months since I last posted, Emmett has gone through general management training at Baumhower’s Restaurant and since taken over his own store (the Downtown Montgomery location). The girls are now in a good, local technical high school and doing fantastically.  In July, Kiera, Kylie and my nephew Fletcher and I drove from Alabama to Massachusetts (and back!) to visit family and friends.  We have picked up two new family members:  Bella Lovato-Moore our sweet Rat Terrier who we adopted from our dear friend Myra who passed away suddenly this summer and Ms. Mocha Moore, our half-faced kitten (14 weeks as of this writing) who was found wandering the mean streets of Montgomery.  As you can see, I did not stop blogging because there was nothing of interest to report on.

Did I stop because I was too busy?  No.  Although I do have plenty to do, there are hours every day where I don’t have any plans and end up catching up on reading, cleaning, organizing, job hunting, working out… well you get the picture.  I have never been less busy.  I am enjoying my non-stressed out life.  I prayed for a long time for a break and now I have it.  So, I am not too busy to write.

The truth is that I got mad.  I got hurt.  I got scared.  I let these negative feelings get in the way of my creativity.  It took me a while to identify why I wanted to anything else rather than write… and I do mean anything (shampooing rugs, weeding, watching Honey Boo Boo, etc.).  Finally, though, I pinpointed what it was that gave me the biggest case of writer’s block in history.

The last blog that I posted about was Love, Gaming and Saving.  In general, I got nice comments on the post (which of course anyone would like to hear), but then I got an “off the record” comment from someone (who shall remain nameless) saying how “mortified” he was that I was making excuses for my husband’s bad behavior of gaming.  He felt that I was enabling Emmett’s gaming and not being truthful with myself about how I felt.  This reader, I know, is not the only one that felt that way.  He just happened to be the only one who actually said something.

I could go into all the reasons why I “enable” my husband’s gaming but I don’t think any minds would be changed anyway.  If you want to know why, go back and read Love, Gaming and Saving.  Instead, I am choosing to press on and write about what interests me; my observations, my thoughts and my opinions.  I am going to not let someone’s disapproval keep me from pursuing what makes me happy.  I am going to choose creativity over stagnation.

In retrospect, what I should have done is shut out the negativity.  I could have used my emotions to create instead of stagnate.  But, the truth is, I was afraid that by putting myself “out there” in such a public way, I was inviting negative criticism about my life, my writing “talent”, my choices.

Hearing criticism is always hard and never pleasant.  I can’t think of anyone who relishes hearing disapproval.  People react in different ways to criticism. Some people get mad, make a public scene and drag everyone into their drama.  There are other people who shut down their creativity and let the outside voices rule their inner goddess (to steal a phrase from Fifty Shades of Grey) and then there are others who take disappointment, sadness, depression, disapproval, etc. and create.  Think of all of those famous painters who did not let the naysayers win.  Imagine if they had?  We might never have had Degas, Monet and Renoir to enjoy. When the French Impressionist movement first began in the late 1800’s, they were highly criticized for their style. The artists pursued their individualism and eventually the misunderstood Impressionists were embraced by the world.   

Had they let popular convention dictate their actions and stifle their creativity, we would never have heard the words of magnificent women writers such as Austen, Eliot, and the Brontë sisters.  No Heathcliff?  No Mr. Darcy?  What a duller, less romantic world we would live in.  I am by no means comparing myself to those great artists; merely, I am noting the actions of those who I admire so much and hoping to follow, humbly, in their footsteps… fearlessly.

Love, Gaming and Saving Money

Recently I read an article in the Daily News that cited a Divorce Online report that divorces resulting from online gaming spiked this year from 5% to 15%.  Researchers speculate that the reason for the increase in “unreasonable behavior” (addiction to gaming) is the recession.  Apparently, the unemployed entertain themselves by playing World of Warcraft, Halo, Call of Duty and a variety of other online games.   These unemployed gamers begin to ignore their spouses (now called “gamer widows”) and things disintegrate from there.  It’s easy to imagine how the increased gaming could cause a decrease in successful relationships.  For many years golfing has had the same effect (golf widows).  However, for all of the negative press that online gaming is getting, I would like to share a different perspective; the story of how online gaming helped my relationship with my husband and saved us money.  What you say?  Impossible!  No, it’s true.  Really.

Let me say right up front, that there are loads of reasons to not like online gaming… the con list is a long one with the main culprit being addiction.  The addition can spiral into:  Lying about how much time the gamer actually plays, upping gaming time, withdrawal from friendships, work/social disruptions, spending huge amounts of money on online gaming services, obsessing about increasing gaming stats, and, of course the physical side effects (lack of general hygiene, carpal syndrome, migraines, sleep disorders, back and neck disorders).  There are probably a 100 other reasons to dislike gaming but we’ll ignore these for now.

Emmett has always enjoyed video games.  He was a huge fan of Atari way back when and as technology improved and online gaming was invented, his fascination only increased.  When I met Emmett in 2005, I knew he had some interest in gaming but his lifestyle was so busy that he rarely, if ever, played in my presence.  We got engaged in 2006 and shortly afterward he bought an X-Box and started playing Call of Duty (a.k.a. COD).  At first, I hated his gaming.  I felt ignored by him -- anything I would tell him while he was gaming was forgotten immediately.  He would sometimes eat dinner and play at the same time (which enraged me).  He would sometimes spend up to twelve hours playing online, which would get in the way of shared activities.  It was nearly a deal breaker for me.  How could I marry someone who I felt was addicted to something which excluded me?  I know, I’m not making a good case for gaming… but wait… its coming.

Emmett was working at the Harbor Watch Inn as the General Manager.   It was a great job with loads of socializing.  The Inn was as about as busy as you can imagine.  After work, he would go out with different employees and friends to wind down and relax.  This meant that at least three nights a week he was going to local bars such as Slap Happys, Port of Call and Shooters.  He would stumble home around 3:00 a.m. (after he had gone to Leo’s for an afterhours breakfast).  I would be at home pacing and pissed.  I was losing sleep worrying.  On his days off, he was gaming.  What time was there for me?  No, really, the good reasons are coming…

Despite my concerns about the above mentioned issues, I married Emmett.  About four months into our marriage, he switched jobs and began to work at Longhorn Steakhouse in Boston.  His commute increased from 15 minutes to an hour and a half each way and his new bosses were no-nonsense… he was not permitted to socialize with guests or other employees.  At the same time, I started to come to my senses and get real about my thresholds.  I talked to Emmett about the fact that we were spending far too much money on his social life and that I wasn’t comfortable with him going out as often (especially to bars).  He heard what I had to say and agreed.   He stopped going out immediately.   He began to substitute bar hopping with online gaming.

I have to admit that at first he was a little bit obsessed with his online gaming. He had met some good players online at COD and was excited about becoming part of a clan (a group of gamers who form an alliance in order to compete against other clans to up their gaming stats), and “prestiging” (increasing your status online through experience and points earned playing).  He was excited about making new friends who he felt had something in common with him.  I was patient (as I could be) because, after all, he had moved up to Massachusetts from Miami to be with me.  How could I complain if he wanted to make friends online?  Plus, he was no longer frequenting bars.

After a while, Emmett’s playing time decreased; the initial obsession died down some.  He still would play but it wasn’t an everyday activity.  He had stopped going to bars.  Playing online, satisfied his socializing needs.  The benefits to us were great:  He wasn’t spending money; I knew where he was at all times; I didn’t have to wonder when he would come home; I didn’t have to worry that some chick at a hole-in-the wall bar was trying to come on to him; I didn’t have to worry that he would drink too much and then attempt to drive home; he enjoyed what he was doing and didn’t feel that he was giving anything up.  It was a healthier lifestyle for us. It was a win-win situation.

If I do the cost analysis with online gaming versus in bar hopping, it is also clear that the gaming is financially beneficial.  See below:

Bar Hopping

Drink cost per outing = $40 x 3 outings per week = $120

+

Tip of $15 per outing x estimated 3 outings per week = $45

+

One afterhours breakfast at Leo’s per week = $15

Total cost per week = $180

Total cost per month = $780.00

Total cost per year = $9,360

The above does not include gas used driving to establishments or factor in drinks bought for friends.

Online gaming

Purchase of X-Box (lasts about four years) = $400 ($100 per year, $8.33 per month, $1.92 per week)

+

Purchase of annual X-Box Gold membership = $60 ($5.00 per month, $1.15 per week)

+

Purchase of head set (which lasts about three years) = $150 ($50 per year, $4.16 per month, .96 cents per week)

+

Case of beer per week = $20 ($1040 per year, $86.66 per month)

Total cost per week:  ($1.92 + $1.15 +.96 + $20.00) = $24.03

Total cost per month: ($8.33+ $5.00 +$ 4.16 + $86.66) = $104.15

Total cost per year:  ($100.00 + $60.00 + $50 + $1040) = $1,250

The above does not include electricity used to play games or wear and tear on your best recliner.

I estimate that we save approximately $8,110 per year.  That’s quite a lot.  It’s definitely enough to make a girl happy.  Ultimately, when I factor in how much more time my husband is home and how much we save, I cannot complain.

I’ve had a few friends comment on Emmett’s gaming.  Generally, the consensus has been that they personally would not put up with the gaming. It would be a deal breaker for them. I respect their opinions, but I feel differently.  In my mind, if this is the worst offense that my husband commits (his worst habit) then I feel that I’m quite a lucky lady.  Many acquaintances of mine have had partners who have done things I consider far worse (cheating, hitting, gambling, etc.).  In comparison, I feel that gaming is fairly PG.

At Sodahead.com, a site that runs polls on a variety of gaming  issues, I found statistics which showed that 61% of people polled thought that gaming could be positive for a relationship.  Surprisingly, 66% of the 61% who responded positively were women.  Many people had the same reasons I listed above and some others said that they too gamed.  Gaming was a shared interest in their relationship.  I guess they had the “if you can’t beat them join them,” philosophy. 

My philosophy about gaming is that it is Emmett’s hobby and unless it gets in the way of our lives (which it does not) then I’m glad he has something that interests him so much.  Do I understand his fascination with gaming?  No.  However, I learned a long time ago, that I don’t have to.  My grandparents, who were married for 66 years, made it work.

 My grandmother loved to antique and my grandfather loved to watch professional wrestling on Saturday afternoons.  My grandmother would leave my mild mannered grandfather alone in the den on Saturdays to watch his pro wrestling while she did other things.  We all knew not to disturb grandpa in his den.  If we did, he could not be accountable for what we would hear (generally a string of curse words that would make a sailor blush) aimed at the wrestlers on TV.  As a trade-off for his solo Saturdays, my grandfather would take my grandmother antiquing on Sundays.  They respected each other’s hobbies and were happy to compromise.  Online gaming is to Emmett as Saturday pro wrestling was for my grandpa.

When I list the pros and the cons for online gaming, the pro side comes out longer.  It has been a process to get that list longer, but isn’t our relationship worth it?

Reflections on spending time

What would you do if you had an abundance of time?  I know; it’s a ridiculous question.  Since when will any of us have more time on our hands than we know what to do with?  Time has always been the most elusive and valuable asset for me.  No matter how much I tried to organize, I would always come up short on time.  I was famously known, or maybe infamously known, by my friends and family for double booking my schedule.  I somehow thought that if I tried hard enough, time would magically be created and I could “fit it all in.”  It never worked out that way.  As William Penn once said, “Time is what we want most, but what we use worst.”

When we moved from Massachusetts to Alabama, we were pretty busy the first few months setting up the house, spending time with Emmett’s daughters, seeing/meeting Emmett’s old friends, visiting with family, finding furniture, best places to shop, exploring the area, working part time jobs, interviewing for full-time jobs and the usual household chores.  Our days were filled up quickly.  I was not as busy as I had once been, but I was still fairly active on a daily basis.

Now, the house is (for the most part) set up.  All our boxes are unpacked and pictures hung.  We have most of the furniture we need and the major repairs have been made.  We have Kiera (Emmett’s oldest daughter) living with us full time and Kylie (the younger daughter) visits on a regular basis.  We have established Sunday cookouts so that family and friends can catch up with us as they like.  Emmett has found a full-time job as a GM for Baumhower’s (an Alabama restaurant chain) and is currently in full-time training so that he can take over his own store.  My work schedule is only a handful of hours a week.

So, I find myself with the long-desired abundance of time.  Let me tell you there is only so much Face Booking one can do without feeling like a creeper.  I check my Yahoo inbox about 20 times a day.  I go on job sites – rereading the same postings time and time again.  My house is cleaner than I had ever thought possible (though honestly it will never be impeccable – that’s just not me).  I have planted a garden; learned to use a weed whacker (or is it a weed eater?  I suppose there’s a difference but I don’t really know what it is).   I have even organized my bills and created a system for saving our receipts; things I had always said I would do.  I’m eyeballing my photo albums now.  There truly will be too much time (if that is possible!) if ever I get to that looming project.

I’ve never had this much availability.  Not that I’m complaining (or bragging) mind you.  It is the circumstances of moving from one state to another and setting up a whole new life, which has created all of this free time. Think about it.  If you were to remove your full time job and 90% of your social/family obligations, wouldn’t you have an abundance of time?

If you had free time how would you spend it?  Would you be creative and do things like paint or write?  Would you be practical and reorganize your bills?  Would you be motivated and finally take that time to exercise and get fit? Would you dip into that pile of unread books beside your bed? The great thing is that you would have time to think of things to do with your time!

Over the last few years, due to the sluggish economy, many people have found themselves laid off from work, thus creating a time void that work once filled.  I am sure they are not all sitting around watching TV and eating bonbons.   I am hopeful that many of these people are using this new found abundance of time to become entrepreneurial and finally make their dreams a reality.  History shows that during times of economic hardship people become creative.  The Great Depression saw the inventions of the electric razor, the car radio, the supermarket, the cotton tampon, the chocolate chip cookie (invented at the Toll House Inn in Whitman, Massachusetts!), the Laundromat (or the washateria, as it was originally known), Monopoly and the first Xerox copier.  It is said that necessity is the mother of invention.  I would like to add that father time is the other parent of invention.  Personally, I can’t wait to see what inventions are born from this combo.

What I’ve learned about time is that you will always make time for the things that are truly important to you.  If you spend your time watching TV and eating bonbons then, then that is your choice.  If that is what gives you pleasure, who am I to judge?  If you get out there and light the world on fire with your innovations, then good for you. As for me and how I spend my time, I have a blog to write, a family to look after, a career to reinvent, friendships to maintain and adventures to begin.  That is what is important to me.

I leave you with the words of the great innovator Steve Jobs who once said this about time:  “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.  Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking.  Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions draw out your own inner voice.  And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition.  They somehow already know what you truly want to become.  Everything else is secondary.”

My Oldest Friend... the Ocean

A typical Cape Cod beach

“The Sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.” --Jacques Cousteau

Lately, I have been dreaming of the ocean nearly every night.  My dreams are vivid. I see lighthouses and shining lights on the shore.  I even dream of the briny scent and can feel the wet sand squishing between my toes in my dreams.  It is physical.  It’s as though I am visiting an old and dear friend.  When I awake, I am simultaneously happy and sad; happy to have had such a glorious night of dreaming and sad that the night didn’t last longer.

I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long.  If we're in each other's dreams, we can play together all night.  ~Bill Watterson, Calvin & Hobbes

 I grew up around the ocean.  It has always been a part of my life… the backdrop for everything else.   It has been the friend that is always there, providing endless entertainment, bountiful meals and steadfast comfort.  When I moved to Montgomery, I knew I would miss my friends and family but I didn’t count on how much I would miss the sun coming over the early morning horizon, the sound of the waves lapping at the shore, the scent of the brine and the moon casting a golden path across the water.  It is a stark reality for me that this part of my life is not so readily available to me.  A void has been created.

As a child, the beach was my playground.  In the winter, my sisters and I would sled down the snow covered bluffs, skidding to a stop on the sandy beach.  We would drag our sleds back up the 100+ rickety wooden steps and breathlessly pile back onto the sled (sometimes three of us at a time!) and fly back down.   We usually did this until eventually Mrs. MacGregor would come out of her house and yell at us that we were eroding the bluff.  We were kids; what did we know/care about erosion?  It was just pure, unadulterated fun for us.

In the summer, my mom would send us out of the house in the mornings and tell us to stay outside until dinner.  My sisters and I would grab a towel, something cold to drink, and a book and “trudge” 100 yards to the beach.  We would spend all day swimming, walking from one rocky point to another, looking for sea glass, shells, starfish, sand dollars, driftwood… all forms of beach treasure.  We loved to walk to Manomet Point looking for the seals that sun themselves on the rocks.  We would stop along the way to dig up the red clay from the bluffs, spackling ourselves from head to toe, all the while espousing the healing and beauty qualities of the minerals in the clay, not caring one bit how wild we looked.   At dinner time, we would come back up to the house, sandy from head to toe, sunburned, happy and hungry.   

Each summer, for probably seventy years, my family has traveled from all over the United States, Japan, and England, to meet up in Woods Hole.  Some come earlier in the season and some come later, but eventually, nearly everyone makes it to the tiny seaside town.   We are fortunate enough that some relatives (way back when) obtained ocean front property, including a small, stony but delightful private beach.   Our summer days are spent lounging on the wooden deck, we call the bandstand.  The bandstand overlooks the bay, which provides a marvelous vignette.  Some relatives lounge on their Adirondack chairs and chit chat about all nature of subjects.   Some of us catch up on reading; some swim from the dock to Toad Rock (this has become a traditional annual swim) or to the wooden float that beckons some 50 feet off the end of the dock; some lay towels at the end of the dock and sun quietly, soaking in the tranquility that the ocean provides. 

Every Sunday at 6:00 p.m., rain or shine, the clan gathers on my cousins’ large lawn (which overlooks the ocean) and we cookout.  Sometimes five people show up and sometimes forty people show up, but someone always shows up.   This family gathering requires no invitations; the ocean is our gracious host and we are always all welcome.

My friends and me on Duxbury Beach... a day of antics

As an adult, my beach days are different from those of when I was a kid.  Sunny Saturdays are the best.  All of my girlfriends start to plan for the coming weekend around Wednesday.  Any hint of a rainy weekend will send us into a group depression.  However, should it be a sunny weekend, it is game on.  We all rise early in the morning and pack our coolers full of ice, any manner of drinks and snacks.  Those of us without beach stickers (you would only not have a beach sticker if you don’t have a four wheel drive vehicle!)  coordinate with those who have beach stickers and we drive out to Plymouth Beach or Duxbury Beach for a fantastic, relaxing but social beach day.  A day on the beach beats any night in a bar hands down.

I have always harvested from the ocean, clamming with my friends and family, gathering succulent crabs, picking mussels and periwinkles off of the seaweed covered rocks.  The ocean was the best kind of garden; it is self-sustaining, bountiful and full of surprises.  We never knew what we would find along the shores.  Some days we would find a rock covered with mussels, fighting with the barnacles for space; other days, we would find crabs.  Even if we couldn’t find mussels or crabs, inevitably there were the tiny, but delicious, periwinkles we could pluck up and bring home.  Periwinkles were our version of escargot… boil them up and serve them with garlic and butter, pull them out of their shells with pins.  Tiny treats… what could be tastier?

Each year, for years now, my sister Kalliope and/or my friend Laura have bought shellfish permits.  What a wonderful  joy to walk over the clamming flats in bare feet, feeling for the tell-tale lumps beneath our toes and then digging like mad for the delicious treasures.  

One of my fondest memories is clamming all day with Kalliope and my niece Olivia, then going back to Kalliope’s house and cooking clams and linguine (with leeks, white wine and butter).  The smell was outrageously enticing.  The flavor was pure Heaven.  We laid a picnic blanket out on her sunny deck and ate until we couldn’t move.  It was glorious.

Laura and I have clammed many a time… spending hours digging away side by side, walking and talking.  How the time flies when you are having fun.  We would always bring the clams back to her house, shuck them, squeeze a little lemon on them, add a dollop of cocktail sauce and suck them back.  There is no match for the flavor of the sea… briny and crisp and fresh. 

 I have celebrated nearly every 4^th of July with a bonfire, friends and family on the beach.  The day of July 3^rd, most of the abled bodies in our neighborhood, gather up armfuls of kindling at the top of the 100+ steps leading down to the beach, walk carefully down the stairs and pile the wood onto the growing mound that will eventually become a magnificent bonfire.  Waiting for the sun to go down and the fire to be lit, is always excruciating.   It is like watching water boil… it seems to only happen if you look away.  Finally, though, around 9:00 p.m., someone throws gasoline on to the giant wood pile, lights a match and the bonfire flares up.  It is so large, that it looks as though the orange flames are licking at the stars.  All the neighbors gather around, watching the bonfire, dodging sparks, hot ashes and smoke.  The annual bonfire is the only time of the year, where everyone in the neighborhood reconnects.  Every year I have ended up speaking to someone who I had not talked to for years before.  We may not have much in common but we do have our love for the beach and fondness for the bonfire.   We watch the fireworks exploding over the ocean, illuminating the night sky.  From one rocky point to another, there are bonfires every several hundred feet that other neighborhoods have built.  It is a community tradition that brings everyone together.  There is no party room or setting that can compare to the beach.

The ocean has always been a haven for me as well.  There have been times in my life when I have been sad or needed some solace.  The ocean has always been a place where I could go to (my happy place if you will). It is a place where I could walk the shores or sit on a rock and stare out at the horizon and let my mind soak in the beauty and wonder.  Eventually, my thoughts calm and some perspective gained.  Whether the ocean is calm or turbulent, it has always been there, like a true friend, helping me to get through those less-than-perfect moments in life.  The ocean has been my nature's therapy.

“The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea.” --Isak Dinesen

In the meantime, I search in my new home state for a place where I can find my “ocean.”  I’ve taken to gardening in my backyard and hosting our own Sunday cookouts for our friends and family here.  I don’t think that these will ever take the place of the ocean for me (nothing could) but they are joys for me. 

There are mountain people and there are ocean people.  I have always known that no matter how beautiful and majestic the mountains are (and they are!), the ocean holds a special place in my heart.  Like an old friend, I may be geographically distant, but the ocean will always be there, waiting loyally for my return.  Until I can return, it is heartening to know that each night there is another opportunity to dream.

Breaking up: From Talking to Tweeting

The other day my friend "Jane"mentioned that a mutual friend "Don" (who she had been seeing) had broken off with her, via text, in favor of an old girlfriend.  My first thoughts contained words that are really not fit for print (in this venue anyway) but honestly, this is not the first time I’ve heard of this, nor I am sure, will it be the last.  As dismayed as I am by this heartless way of dismissing someone who has been at least important enough to swap bodily fluids with, it did bring to my attention the idea breaking ups and how the awkward (at best) situation has evolved in just my lifetime.

My personal history of dating, the Age I refer to as YES (young, experimental and single) lasted almost exactly twenty years.  I had my fair share of breakup scenarios.  Below are just a few examples that come to mind:

1.       In person is probably the oldest form of breaking up with someone (unless cave people used drawings to signify their intent).  In person, has always been the classiest (in my opinion) way to breakup with someone but has recently become a bit old fashioned what with all of the technology at our finger tips.  Why suffer the mortification, risking tears and a public scene when merely sitting at your computer and sending off a message might achieve the same goal?  How someone might breakup in person varies, of course.   There are several ways I can think of:

a)      The productive conversation.  The most grown up and decent way to dump someone.  The productive conversation involves being realistic, not unkind and not leaving the door open with “we should get together sometime.”  True closure.  This usually takes two mature people.  In my experience, this is a fairly uncommon practice

b)      The sprawling conversation.  You know the kind… a lot of rehashing history and back peddling are involved… as are tears.  A common phrase used in this particular method is “its not you; It’s me.”   It is painful but closure can be achieved.

c)       The screamfest which manifests when someone has done something so egregious (i.e. catching the person cheating red handed) that neither of the previously mentioned approaches are a consideration.  I once threw a beer in the face of someone (at a bar) who drunkenly admitted he cheated on me.  At the time, the bonus of this was that it was February in Boston and he didn’t have a coat with him.  Now, of course, I know he probably deserved it but wish I had just turned around and left, with him knowing I was the classier of the two of us.

2.       The “Dear John/Jane” Letter.   Before the advent of electricity and all of the technology that now allows us to breakup with someone via the click of a button, the Dear John/Jane letter was THE way to dump someone – especially if your guy was unlucky enough to be at war.  Nowadays I imagine that this mode of breakup has essentially gone out of style.  It may be primarily used by kids still in grade school.  My personal Dear Artemis letter was in the form of a note being passed hand to hand by classmates in my senior English class.  You know that every kid along the way read the note, adding humiliation to the mix. 

3.       The disappearing act.  This particular maneuver has been achieved in a number of ways. 

a)      The most common is when the guy never calls again.  You think he will call; you have no indication that he won’t and then he just doesn’t.  Back in the days before cell phones, it was particularly difficult, because if you liked the guy, you were sort of made a prisoner in your own home because God forbid you miss his call because you had to run to the store for an emergency toilet paper run or something.  These days, we have cell phones which make us seem a little less desperate (if only to ourselves).

b)      I’ve also been stood up a few times… okay, maybe more than a few times.  Most of us have experienced the humiliating stand up.  We agree to meet, spruce up nicely, go to the predetermined location and then wait… and wait… and wait.  They never show up and you are forced to make some completely lame excuse to the bartender or waiter about how you must have got the date or time wrong.  I’ve actually received a few pity drinks that way (and actually a date as well!).

c)       My favorite in the “disappearing act” category is leaving the country without telling me.  Yes, it’s happened… at least twice (not at the same time!).  Both men were foreign; so in fairness, they were returning to their mother countries, however, neither of them gave me any indication that they would be leaving anytime soon.  This particular breakup stung a bit because it seemed so premeditated.  There are a lot of logistics to moving, never mind moving out of the country, and yet neither "man" ever let on that they were relocating.   Both just carried on as usual and then suddenly there were no calls and some sorry roommate was answering their door telling me that Ian or Paddy had moved “back home.”

4.       The telephone call.  Using the telephone to breakup with someone, rather than face-to-face has, I’m guessing, been used since about ten minutes after Alexander Graham Bell invented the phone… maybe even by him.  Personally, I’ve been dumped via telephone more than any other way.

5.       The email.   I started using email regularly in 1994 while I worked at MIT.  I remember shortly after learning how to use it, I got my first breakup via email.  I was outraged!  How dare the guy email me instead of breakup with me in person or via telephone (the only two acceptable forms of communicating such personal news as far as I was then concerned).  Of course, two years later, it was me using email to send the bad news to a guy I was seeing.

Now that I am married, the likelihood of me being broken with via the disappearing act, the telephone call or the email, is highly unlikely, although I suppose not impossible.  Supposedly Britney Spears broke up with Kevin Federline via a text.   I’d like to give my husband Emmett more credit than that though should we ever be unlucky enough to face a breakup.  It’s more likely one of us would try the “it’s not you, it me,” line in a productive conversation.

Since getting married, I’ve heard dating nightmare stories from friends and family about people casually  breaking up in the most callous and removed ways possible.  Two such ways are:

6.       The text.   I imagine those who breakup via text normally conduct their relationship primarily over text (i.e. sexting).  I don’t know if that is true, it just seems to make sense.  Why else would someone just text you a breakup message when you can email, write a letter, disappear or call?  This seems like a very emotionally removed (and immature) way to breakup with someone…. Write a text and send the breakup message out into the universe.  Problem solved.  No conversation necessary.

7.       The Facebook/Twitter.  The meanest/most ruthless/most public way of dumping someone.  This way of breaking up has been written about ad-nauseam recently (Wired magazine has even published a “how to” article on it!).  People are posting  breakup notices on Facebook or alerting people to their intent by updating their profile to indicate that they are no longer in a relationship with so and so.  Facebook may be slightly less offensive than Twitter… but that would depend on how efficiently someone used their 140 character limit.

I have to wonder with Facebook and Twitter becoming a more common way to dump people, what will be next?  Will there be (or maybe there is already?) a smart phone application where you just hit a button and the dumpee is notified via a pop up that they are officially single once again?

Everyone knows that breaking up is hard to do; it is unbelievably awkward (but sometimes necessary) to have to tell someone that they are not welcome in your life any longer.  I do believe how you decide to breakup with someone is a testament to how mature and unselfish you are.  If you are able to put your own discomfort aside and productively discuss the situation, it speaks volumes to the kind of person you are.  If you decide to Twitter someone out of your life, well then that also speaks volumes (to everyone who follows you!) about what kind of an insensitive jackass you are.  The question is, when it comes to breakups are you a talker or a Twitterer?

Postscript:  Today that guy Don who broke up with my friend Jane told me that the relationship he had foresaken Jane for had fallen apart and he now felt bad about the way he had text-dumped her.  Ironic, no?

How Do You Fight?

Kathleen Turner & Michael Douglas in War of the Roses

Recently Emmett and I got into a fight.  The details are not important; however, let’s just say posting videos to Face Book when you’ve had a few drinks is not a good idea.  But I digress… The skirmish led me to thinking about fights.  How do you fight?  Are you a controlled fighter (being very careful with your words, not raising your voice, letting the other person talk) or are you an out-of-control fighter (screaming, hair pulling, posting pissed off messages on Face Book)? And, most importantly, how do you resolve your fights?

First let me say that I believe fighting (not physical of course) can be healthy in a relationship.  It is an opportunity to really clear the air.  Fighting, done right, can actually strengthen a relationship because people believe so strongly what they are saying that a lot of important issues can be handled. As anyone who has been in a relationship knows, stewing about something or using the silent treatment really isn’t helpful in resolving issues.  Stewing causes resentments and when resentments build up, there can be a volcanic eruption of emotion.  That, most definitely, is not good for a relationship.  Those huge emotional eruptions can sometimes spin out of control and uncontrolled fighting is the worst kind…think of that movie War of the Roses!

I think most people can agree that fighting is just not pleasant, whatever kind of fighting you might engage in; however, it is sometimes it seems unavoidable.  So, if you must clear the air, and an adult-level conversation seems out of the question (because let’s face it, sometimes “talking” about it doesn’t seem to get the message across), what kind of battle do you engage in?

I’m pretty sure that how you fight is often rooted in your culture and how you were raised. Think about it. Some cultures are known for their fiery temperaments and an impassioned throw down might be acceptable in their households; whereas, an argument in a Yankee home might consist of the silent treatment, or cutting someone out of your will.  In some cultures a dispute might be resolved by coming to fisticuffs while in other’s a good game of chess might settle the matter. 

Personally, my style of fighting depends on whether I’ve had time to contemplate the situation or not.   If I am taken by surprise, I attack back in a very flustered way with a bunch of unorganized thoughts.  I get red in the face and can feel my ears burning.  If, however, I’ve had time to consider the situation and plan it out a bit, my style of fighting is decidedly different; I am calm and rational. I do not yell, though I do raise my voice to emphasize my displeasure. 

I usually have several points to make and I almost never cry.   It’s almost eerie how I am able to separate my feelings from the argument and remove the emotion when I’m fighting.  I’m sure that if I were to cry during an argument with Emmett, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.  I think he might just concede the fight to stop me from crying. Hmmm… maybe I should try that tact.

Emmett’s style of fighting has changed a little of the course of knowing him.  When we first met, he would just plain shout if he was trying to drive home a point.  It is how he had operated in past relationships and it had just become a normal way of working through issues.  Since I am not a shouter, I think that over time, he began to engage more in a discussion should we disagree.  There are times when he reverts but generally speaking, he has come over to my way of resolving disagreements.  We have both come to agree that yelling at someone is the equivalent of attempting to dominate them with your point of view.  It is clear that you are not engaged in listening if you are too busy yelling.

An international paper-scissors-rock competition

My sister Ellie (who lives in Japan) has been with her husband Toshi for over ten years.  She claims that they hardly ever fight.  They are both so laid back that it is easy to believe.  She does admit that they have disagreements from time to time. When they can’t agree on something, they use the old paper-scissors-rock (also known as Jan-ken-pon in Japan) to resolve the issue. Most times it works.  I asked Ellie where she got that cool idea from and she told me that some businessmen in Japan use Jan-ken-pon to resolve disputes.  Now that is interesting.

Large Trees Under the Jas de Bouffan
by Cézanne

Years ago, a very successful Japanese businessman named Takashi Hashiyama wanted to auction off an extensive collection of artwork featuring artists such as Cézanne, Picasso and van Gough.  Mr. Hashiyama asked both Christie’s and Sotheby’s to submit a proposal to him of how they would manage the auction.  Both auction houses submitted in-depth proposals but in Mr. Hashiyama’s opinion, they were both equally good.  He asked them both to participate in a match of paper-scissors-rock to resolve the situation explaining "it probably looks strange to others, but I believe this is the best way to decide between two things which areequally good".

Christie’s consulted the eleven year old twin daughters of their international director of impressionists Nicholas Maclean who instructed Christie’s to pick scissors because everyone expects you to pick rock.  Sotheby’s said it was a game of chance and didn’t go with a strategy.  They selected paper. Christie’s won the match and earned millions of dollars in commission.

Emmett and I don’t fight very often, but when we do, it is often over the most trivial nonsense such as “how to hold a fork when using a knife to cut your meat,” or “is ain’t a real word?”  We do not use the paper-scissors-rock method but we often use the internet to resolve our disagreements.  Google has been a real marriage saver.  We are usually both so adamant that we are correct, that we need a non-partisan, objective, way to get the right answer.  Nine times out of ten, we are both correct to some degree.  In the case of the proper way to use a fork and knife, there is both a European way and an American way, both perfectly acceptable.  In the case of the word ain’t, it’s a newer word added to the dictionary because it was so commonly used.  It was improper but is now a “real” word.  Although I still think ain’t sounds ignorant, at best, it is not improper to use it apparently.

In a perfect world there would be no fighting. Everyone would agree.  There would be no wars and we would live in Utopia.  However, this is the real world and disagreements are bound to happen every once in a while.  Since fighting does seem to be a way of life, isn’t it a good idea to examine how it is you fight? Are you effective in your style of fighting?  Is fighting an exercise in futility or do you gain something positive from an entirely unpleasant discourse? 

 No one is saying that paper-scissors-rock resolves all issues, but maybe there are other ways such as rolling dice, Googling, coin flipping, drawing straws or, maybe even good-old fashioned talking it out. The argument Emmett and I had this weekend was resolved by talking it out (and a little yelling on my part to be honest) but maybe next time we’ll do ten paces at dawn (just kidding!) or tic-tac-toe or some other way to figure out how to live in peace with each other.  In the end though, I guess it isn’t how we resolve the issues so much as the fact that when we do (because we always do), the making up is always the best part.

Emmett and me in South Beach, 2006