Dancing Into Romance

Hi! I haven't had time this week to sit down and write but I have had lots of thoughts dancing around my brain. I would make a joke here about the thoughts having plenty of room to dance-alluding to big empty spaces but I think my brain is quite cluttered and that is why my thoughts get distracted or tripped up while trying to glide along mental pathways.

Anyway...A friend of mine recently made an insightful comment (she makes several) in her blog about romance and that got me to thinking about romance which despite its elusive qualities can be quite a lovely subject to ponder. Romance is dictionary defined as a feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love or a sentimental or idealized type of love. In other words we have a tough time wrapping our brains around romance but we know what it feels like.

Years ago my husband and I met a charming older couple who told us that dancing keeps romance alive in a marriage. They had been going dancing together every week for the 40 years of married life. I talked my husband into watching Dancing With The Stars with me last week. (I really don't think that counts as dancing together but hey-there were many other things my husband would have rather spent his time doing, like flossing his teeth or something but he endured the show because he said he enjoys spending time with me...that's romantic) I am not a regular viewer of Dancing With The Stars. (I am keeping up my fight against watching too much TV) It is kind of a glitzy popularity contest but it does have its good points and I am a sucker for watching ballroom dancing. (Besides my daughter talked me into watching it this season because she wanted to watch Evan Lysacek, the olympic gold medalist from the U.S.A., who she thinks is nice...and cute.) Interestingly, DWTS was having a Night of Romance as their theme. After watching just a few minutes of the show my husband said he doesn't think they understand the meaning of romance. With a guest performer dressed like a Victoria's Secret model (personally I think Victoria needs to be a lot better at keeping secrets), several sexual innuendos, and dancing that went a few steps too far into suggestive for my tastes, I agreed with my husband. Fred and Ginger dancing cheek to cheek were much better at defining romance.

Romance seems to be little understood and poorly portrayed in television these days but we can look to the silver screen for wonderful romantic moments. My copy of the A&E version of Pride and Prejudice ( Colin Firth is Mr. Darcy in my opinion) probably has extra wear in some sections because of hitting rewind to watch certain scenes over again. The way Mr. Darcy looks at Elizabeth while she is playing the fortepiano...he looks at her with such admiration and pure pleasure. Romance isn't a stare or a leer but an appreciative and longing glance. If a person's eyes are windows to their soul then one needs to not look into them like a peeping Tom but more like a lover of fine art. There is a scene in the latest version of Sabrina where Julia Ormond and Harrison Ford are standing very close to each other and she asks him who cuts his hair and reaches out and touches his hair. When she touches him you can hear his soft intake of breath. Romance isn't about heavy breathing but about a feeling that catches your breath and releases it in a contented sigh. In The Sound of Music (I know I already mentioned this movie in a blog but it was my first brush with a handsome man and romance and it left a lasting impression on my seven year-old mind) when Captain Von Trapp and Maria are outside in the gazebo and the Captain reveals his feelings for Maria, he puts his hand under her chin and lifts her face to his. Romance isn't a grab but a loving caress. In the Disney/Pixar movie UP it showed a relationship grow and mature into something sweet and beautiful and unforgettable. It showed two people becoming one. Romance isn't the heat of the moment but the warm glow of years together.

Romance is subtle but unmistakeable. It is gentle but heart-hitting strong. Romantic tables are set with candle light not spotlights. Romance makes idealized love attainable and makes forever love desirable. We can read romance novels or watch romantic movies but we can find romance in real life. Romance is uniquely expressed. Once when I commented how incredible it would be to be looked at in the way Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth, my husband ran across the room and gave me his best Mr. Darcy intense gaze. The gaze wasn't romantic, it made me giggle, but the gesture was very romantic. He did it to please me. Romance can be real if we make it real. It takes work and focus and graceful movement---kind of like dancing.

Of Women and Car Repairs

Last Friday I had to take our van into a Ford dealer to have a recall repair done. On the way I was feeling some nervous trepidation rising in me like wayward bile creeping up into my throat. You see I don't like to take my car in for repairs. I especially don't like going to Dealer service departments but I even get a bit tense at tire stores or jittery at Jiffy Lube. Why? Because first, I'm a woman. Second, I'm a woman who knows very little about how cars work and third, I had a bad experience with a Ford dealer back when I was short on cash, even shorter on life experience, and trying to make my little blue Pinto driveable again.

When I was a teenager my sister bought a brand new metallic blue Camaro and I was with her when she drove it off the showroom floor. We left in a beautiful haze of coolness. I always tried to convince her to let me drive it but she (probably wisely) never gave in. I do appreciate good looking vehicles and I enjoy riding in them but I have a pretty utilitarian attitude when it comes to cars. A car gets me from point A to point B. My eyes don't light up when I talk about how powerful an engine is and revving an engine doesn't bring on an adrenaline rush (that probably has something to do with the fact that my main car is an 8 year-old Toyota Corolla and my second car is a 12 year-old Ford Windstar---although I do like to fantasize about being a race car driver when I drive a stick-shift---) Being confident at the repair shop goes beyond knowing the names of car parts. When a man takes his car into a mechanic there is a silent understanding and respect. There is a certain body language spoken, a way of standing or nodding the head. Even if I were professionally disguised as a man and carefully studied and painstakingly duplicated all the nuances of male behavior I know that I would be immediately routed out as an imposter in a garage. Somewhere an invisible meter measuring maleness would be indicating testosterone levels in an unacceptable range and a silent warning would be sounded. Even men who know little about cars seem to fit in better than women in any auto service-related business. I am not man-bashing here. It is just the way things are...like most men have a hard time feeling comfortable when they find themselves sent to the store to purchase feminine supplies. They just don't understand terms like flow and wings used in that context.

I admire women who take the time to learn about the cars they drive. I do know how to check the oil and other vital fluids and put air in the tires and I can call my husband very quickly to ask questions but that is about the limit of my automobile prowess. I once had a young woman do an oil change on my car at Jiffy Lube. In a way I envied how comfortable she seemed in her coveralls. I would personally feel empowered if I owned a pair of oil-stained coveralls with my name on them and could look under the hood of a car, tighten this and that, and straighten up with a confident look on my grease-smudged face while wiping my hands casually on a big dirty rag in my back pocket(take a breath here)---and yet, I felt a little sorry for the young woman because it couldn't have been easy for her to be taken seriously in that work environment. I don't mean to sound sexist but when you take your car in for maintenance or repairs how many women do you see working beyond the reception area?

I think Auto Shop would be a great required companion class to Driver's Ed and a major prize should be awarded to anyone who reads his or her car repair manual. My husband can fix many car problems but he is limited on time and tools. People need mechanics and there are many skilled mechanics who need jobs. I have helped several of them put food on the table and sometimes I worry if I have sent some of them laughing all the way to the bank.

Which brings me to my eye-opening experience involving repairs on my Pinto...I had just had the transmission replaced by an independent mechanic but I needed to take it into the Ford dealer to have another problem diagnosed. They called to let me know that I needed new gaskets or something and that while they were at it, my transmission looked like it didn't have much life left. I remember it was difficult to respond with my mouth gaping open in shock. I tried to sound calm as I told them to just take care of the gaskets and I would think about replacing the transmission. I didn't know whether to scream or laugh hysterically. How dare they tell me that I needed a new transmission when I had had a new one put in just weeks before! I should try to think the best of people. Maybe there is no such thing as New Transmission Smell or maybe the transmission didn't have the price tag still on it---But this experience left me quite mistrustful of all dealer service departments and admittedly has made me a little paranoid, intimidated or unnecessarily defensive when it comes to getting my car fixed. (now and then I mutter things to myself like, ' So I don't know about O-rings but I bet he can't tell if bread dough is the right consistency just by feel') I think I perceive non-verbal pats on the head as I am trying to nod at the right times while trying to put my brain in full throttle and understand what I am being told is wrong with my car. Sometimes I feel like I have a flashing neon sign above my head that says, You Can Take Advantage Of This One.

To make a long story not too much longer, my recall trip to the Ford dealer was quick and painless and even better...paid for by Ford. I left feeling downright giddy! And in all fairness most of the mechanics I have dealt with have been very nice and honest. If they do shake their heads about how little I know about something I drive everyday they have the decency to do it when I am not watching. They do the work. I give them the money. We are both happy.

By the way, on my way to the dealership I saw a man walking to the side of the road just under the freeway overpass. He was wearing a kilt. He seemed quite comfortable with himself and I thought if a man can walk along a busy road wearing a skirt and act like it is the most natural thing in the world for a man to do then I can woman-up and take my car in for repairs without trepidation.

What scenes are passing by your car window?

Did Rapunzel Ever Want A New Hairstyle?

Many years ago my husband quoted part of a scripture to me to support his preference for long hair on women. The scripture talks about a woman's long hair being her glory. I think my husband is of the opinion the longer the hair the more the glory. Thank heavens he loves me even with short hair. (He also prefers my hair to be curly---right now it is on the short side and straight--poor man doesn't always get what he wants)

A woman's hair, long or short, is definitely a defining factor in her femininity. Hair is one of the main ways a woman exercises her well known prerogative to change her mind. A woman can curl her hair, straighten her hair, dye her hair, bleach her hair, streak or highlight, wave, crimp, or layer her hair. She can flip it up or curl it under, wear it up or down, grow it out or chop it off. Have you noticed that when a women cuts her hair short because she just couldn't stand it long anymore that it only takes a week at most before she is growing it out because she just can't do anything with it short? Hair is one thing a woman can change when she feels she can't change anything else.

I think women's hair stylists are under a lot of pressure. They are expected to be part counselor, part image consultant, and part fairy godmother. For years I would go to the beauty college---hair academy---(still do for perms) and to any fast food variety hair place that I had a coupon for but I always wanted a 'Hair Lady' to call my own. Now I have one. It is a bit pricey but uplifting. My mom always had a hair lady. When I was little her hair lady was named LaVon and my mom would even give her a present at Christmas. Then when we moved her hair lady was Janet. I went to Janet myself a few times. Janet even was there to do my mom's hair one last time to make her look her best for her viewing. I visited my aunt today in a care center. She has had a stroke and she is on hospice care but last week for her birthday she had her hair colored and curled. It looked very nice and I could tell she was much happier having it done. A good Hair Lady or stylist can be a V.I.P. in a woman's life.

I can go for quite a while just getting the occasional trim but when I am ready for a change watch out, because...
I want something different, something that looks youthful but doesn't make it look like I am trying too hard to be youthful, something sassy but sophisticated, something with pizazz but is still classic, something versatile that will look good when I am dressed up (usually dressy translates into Sunday best) or dressed casually (usually translates into jeans all the other days of the week), something that has shape and structure but doesn't look like protective headgear but yet something that is tousled looking so people can't tell if it's messed up----and of course it needs to be something I can style in 5 or 10 minutes because spending too long on my hair causes me anxiety and my skill with a round brush ranks right up there with my skill with a blow torch. (Actually I think I have only used a blow torch to light a sparkler. It was kind of dangerously fun but I don't think it would be wise for me to explore other uses)


I am thankful to my hairstylist for listening patiently to my list of wants and frustrations and for looking at the pictures I take in with me sometimes. She gives great scalp massages and soothing neck rubs with each shampoo and she is really good at transforming what I say I think I want into a hairstyle that works for me. I have a friend in her nineties who in response to compliments on how nice her hair looks always says, "Thanks. I washed it." When it comes to hair, small changes can bring big results. I always feel better when I leave the Hair salon because someone has listened to me and played with my hair. I thoroughly enjoy my hair the day I get it done before I have to face duplicating the style myself!

Sometimes a woman's hair can make or break her day. I have a very good friend who started Chemotherapy yesterday. She is faced with soon losing all of her hair. I know I have heard women say that they are tempted to shave their heads because they can't do a thing with their hair. A woman who is bald by choice is hard to find. As much as we sometimes stress and obsess about our hair not one of us would want to lose it by the hand full. I have had nightmares about that. My friend will be focused on fighting cancer and on healing. Good hair days will lose their importance. Hopefully she will have fun hats and scarves to choose from and that when her hair grows back it will be even more manageable, cooperative, and luxurious than before. We learn in the scriptures that the Lord knows the number of hairs on our head and I think when a woman loses her hair that the Lord knows the number of tears she sheds and helps her carry her grief. My friend is a woman of faith and although her head will be bare she will be covered and sheltered by the comfort of the Lord. When I see a woman who has a bald head peeking out of a scarf or a hat and who is bravely facing what stares come her way I see a beauty that comes from courage and that runs much deeper than a nice head of hair.

Are you having a good hair day?

Have you ever felt like a crush-test dummy?

One of my two youngest daughters was talking with me this weekend about a crush she has on someone at school...actually both of my single daughters have crushes right now. My daughter just couldn't stop thinking about a certain young man and that had her feeling a little crazy. I think in the case of a crush that your heart locks your brain in a room and while giving it very little nourishment and no exercise or fresh air forces it to focus on everything it knows about one person. The heart forces the brain to remember every detail about the slightest interaction. Was he staring at you or did you have something in your teeth? Was that a smile in your direction or a nervous tic? Was that a look of possible admiration or mild irritation? The interrogation is relentless and exhausting. Your body is on auto-pilot during your brain's captivity and you walk around dazed and confused.

A term caught my attention in the dictionary a couple of weeks ago. The term is crumple zone. I would have thought it referred to the part of your shirt or dress or skirt that wrinkles when you sit down but it refers to "a part of a motor vehicle, esp. the extreme front and rear, designed to crumple easily in a crash and absorb the main force of an impact".

Perhaps our hearts have crumple zones. Just change motor vehicle to human heart, crash to crush, and insert infatuation in front of impact. The really interesting thing is that the word crush is on the same page as crumple zone in my dictionary and its main definition has to do with squeezing and force and injury. Our hearts would need some type of protection during those impetuous and passionate years of our youth when we begin seriously searching for that person who makes us whole---who makes it past the crumple zone and impacts our heart in a way we hadn't imagined. Crushes leave little scratches and dents on our hearts that cause some grief but can be hammered out. First loves can cause more serious damage and leave our hearts limping along, barely driveable, but your heart can be made better than new by 'the real thing'. (True love not Coke)

I remember the first man that registered as handsome to me was Chistopher Plummer in The Sound of Music. He had chisled features and twinkly eyes. I was all of seven when the movie came out but I knew that the way he looked at Maria was something truly special. I moved on to a crush on a boy in my sixth grade class who had a nice smile and was smart and said funny things. He signed my dance card for the Sixth Grade Dance and I was so excited...but the dance got cancelled---my heart's first fender-bender. After that I ran into sweet feelings for a boy in my 8th grade Geography class who treated me nicely and made me feel special...his girlfriend didn't seem so nice---I was disappointed , puzzled, and well...a little crushed. After that there were crushes on more movie stars and teen heartthrobs, teachers, and co-workers. Then of course there was first love...the boy I thought was my first love, I realized later that my husband was my real first love. I was having a hard time remembering what my crushes really felt like and I thought it was because I am getting old but I think it is really because now that my heart has felt the impact of true (notice I didn't say 'real' because crushes do involve real feelings) love that the crushes only left behind small scratches in comparison that are hardly noticeable anymore. Most of the stories behind the scratches bring gentle smiles at most.

Crushes are quick thrill rides that prepare our hearts for longer more meaningful journeys. They can be truly exciting and exhilarating but they usually come and go. Your heart can feel the power of being in charge but it needs to be a kind captor and let your brain see the light of day now and then.

What do you see up ahead?

Happy Easter

Lots of years ago I decided that watching the sun rise seemed a good way to celebrate Easter, the day many people celebrate the Son of God rising from the grave. I don't make it every year. Sometimes I am just too tired, other times the weather doesn't cooperate, but I have a desire to do it every Easter. Most of the time I dress warmly and watch from my east-facing porch but there have been times when I have watched through my living room window. One year two of my daughters joined me and we startled our newspaper carrier. He didn't expect to see three people wrapped in blankets sitting on the porch that early on a Sunday morning! (He probably thought we sure were anxious to read the latest news)

Watching the sun rise can be a very spiritual experience. It takes a lot more time than I would have guessed. There is a long prelude to the sunrise when the sky starts to lighten just a bit and the birds start to greet the day with a few solos that soon blend into a chorus. I love to see the sun rise over the mountains. I try and guess where it will appear. As the sky lightens the mountains take shape as the shadows pull away. There is a great deal of anticipation as the sky grows lighter and the mountains come into focus and the birds sing louder. The buildup is long but finally you can see just a little bit of the sun and suddenly it's up and you have to look away. I remember the first time I watched the sun rise on Easter morning I was reminded of giving birth. That feeling of waiting and anticipating, the baby's head crowning, that joyous feeling when a child enters mortality...and suddenly the baby is in your arms and your eyes are filled with tears but you can't look away because it is all so incredible.

The sunrise is a truly amazing experience. When you think of how powerful the sun is and how vital it is to our existence, when you think of how complex our brains are and how we are able to see the sun and feel it's warmth and hear the birds announce a new day. So much depends on the rising of the sun and yet we sometimes sleep through the event or hardly give it a thought. It isn't hard to see why we human beings can fail to see miracles.

A hymn that comes into my mind even before Easter is Christ the Lord is Risen Today. I remember playing it on the stereo one day and stopping to sing it out loud and strong with the MormonTabernacle Choir. I felt joy in my whole being, a joy I didn't fully comprehend but I joy that I knew it was right to feel. I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and that he lived his life to teach us how to make our way back to our heavenly home to live with our Heavenly Father. I believe he took upon himself our sins to pay the price so that we could through repentance live with God again. He was the only one who could pay that price. I believe he not only suffered under the incomprehensible weight of all the sins of mankind but that he also felt our fears, our sorrows, our doubts, our griefs, and every pain that we can feel so that we are not alone in our suffering. He understands. I believe he willingly gave his life on the cross. I believe he rose from the tomb and overcame death so that we too can rise again. He did all of these things out of a pure love for his father and a willingness to obey, and out of a pure and unconditional love for each one of us. God our Father and his son Jesus Christ our brother and redeemer want our happiness. This I know.

Can you imagine what it must have been like for the disciples of Jesus after serving with him and listening to him teach and watching him perform miracles and having him wash their feet, to see him tormented and mocked and crucified and sealed in a tomb and then to see that tomb empty? Can you imagine what it would have been like to be there and to see him standing before you again and to touch the nail prints in his hands and in his feet and the wound in his side? Can you imagine what you would feel in your heart?

Even people who don't believe in God or who do not believe that Jesus is the Christ cannot deny the renewal of the earth this time of year. The grass that was dead grows greener each day, the bare branches of the trees have tender buds, flowers bloom out of earth that was cold and hard...Everywhere you look there is an empty tomb. Alma, a prophet in the Book of Mormon, said, "All things denote there is a God". Spring brings new life and hope of continued life. The rising sun brings hope of a new day filled with promise. The rising of the Son of God brings hope of endless days and eternal happiness.

I highly recommend watching the sun rise. If you can't see it, you can hear the birds greet it, if you can't hear the birds, you can feel the sun on your face and be closer to it than you think.
Happy Easter! I hope the view from your window is one of new life.

The Reality of Fools and Wisdom Teeth

I missed writing on April Fool's day and yesterday which could indicate I was busy having an extended celebration. However, my daughter had her wisdom teeth out on April Fool's day so my focus was elsewhere. (Luckily oral surgeons don't bring pranks to work) A friend of mine was sharing memories on her blog of past April Fool's pranks she and her siblings would pull. It brought back a few memories of my own..

I would always try and scare my dad by putting a fake spider in his cup when he came home for lunch. One year I scared him, which was no easy feat, and I was very happy with myself. A few years after my husband and I were married I filled his lunch box with socks (I can't remember if they were clean or dirty) but I enclosed some lunch money at the bottom as a token of peace. I appreciate well planned and well executed April Fool's jokes but mine are not very elaborate. I stick with minor pranks rather than hoaxes because I am a lousy liar, which I guess is a good thing.

April Fool's day reminds me of hearing a man named Anthony Newly sing a song called What Kind of Fool am I. It was a song from a broadway production. Anthony Newly was a dramatically expressive performer who almost made it look like singing was excruciatingly painful. His song asks a good question...At times in my life I have been a stubborn fool, a crazy fool, a dancing fool, a darned fool, a lovesick fool, and even an April fool (also a May fool, a September fool...). Of course the fool I aim to be is nobody's fool.
When they brought my daughter out to the waiting area after having her wisdom teeth extracted I said something to the effect that she looked and sounded so cute with her squirrel-ready-for-winter gauze-packed cheeks I wanted to pinch her cheeks, but I wouldn't. Note to parents: If you ever want to say something embarrassing like this to your teenager, right after they have had oral surgery is the perfect time! They are too woozy to give you a proper eye-roll, they have difficulty speaking so they can't protest verbally, and they are fully aware that you are their caregiver for the next few days so they let it go. She is recovering nicely by the way.

Random Thoughts: I was reading a TV critic's column the other day and the subject was Survivor. I have never seen the show but the article got me thinking about 'reality' shows. In the time in which we live a lot of time, energy, and money is spent in trying to make things that aren't real look real so what effect does that have on things that are real? Does the boundary become blurred between virtual reality and reality? Does it make sense to take time out of our real lives to watch someone else's reality for entertainment? We do after all spend quite a bit of time watching or reading other people's fantasies. Are reality shows real? Sometimes I have read about reality shows and the phrase, 'get real' has come to mind. I have found myself watching some things or reading some things and thinking that I am glad that isn't my reality but in a way I have just made it part of my reality for a short time, haven't I? I think it was Plato that said we create our own reality, things are only real because we perceive them to be...I think I need a reality check. I like to spend a lot of time in my own little world and worlds that others create but the real world is pretty cool too...most of the time. It is fascinating to watch and even greater to take an active part in. It feels more...real that way.

How do you see things?

I Should Start By Collecting My Thoughts...

I remember years ago feeling like I should start collecting something. Somehow I thought it would add to my character or complete me in some way. After much thought I decided to collect elephants (not real ones-although that would be an impressive collection to show-off to family and friends) because I find them to be admirable creatures and I didn't know anyone who collected them. The collection never took off. Collections require time, money, and space. I struggle with being consistent, I worry about frivolous spending, (which doesn't always keep me from engaging in it), and I am always trying to de-clutter my life. After the elephants failed to add up I thought about collecting cash but those collections never last long it seems so I decided to collect books. It is hard for me to imagine having too many books. My book collection isn't as vast as I would like it to be but it is gradually growing.

Sometimes I think I only collect dust but that isn't impressive especially since 99.9 % of my collection is just the common household variety. I'll leave you wondering about the other 1/10th. It is fun to ponder how far the dust might have traveled before arriving at my house and what exactly is the shelf-life of dust? Now there is a good reason for not dusting---I am conducting an experiment!

People collect rocks, stamps, coins, dead insects, garbage, taxes, etc. Perhaps I could collect happiness. (I can picture eye-rolling and gagging at this point but stick with me) I have often enjoyed consciously collecting smiles. I remember one day when I was in college I decided to be happy and to smile at people all day. Many people smiled back and I had a very good day. I think we too often look outside of ourselves for things to make us happy. We buy stuff, we collect things, we go places, we take medication...We all know how good a smile can make us feel or how something relatively simple can make us happy. I believe the act of being positive or happy can create physical chemical reactions and changes in our body---with only good side effects.

A collection of happiness would create its own space, wouldn't have to be insured or dusted, and you wouldn't have to travel very far to find it. If everyone collected happiness there wouldn't be a shortage but an increase of happiness to collect. Am I always such a persistant Pollyanna or obstinate optimist? No. Just ask my husband who puts up with my worrying and my depression diving. (kind of like dumpster diving without finding treasure) But I am a tenacious hanger-on to hope. Hope has led me to some of the best moments in my life. It has rescued me and cheered me on. Hope keeps great company in faith and charity. If we must hope for a better world we need to take up a collection of happiness for ourselves...that sounds selfish but can we really have other people take up a collection of happiness for us

Get started on those collections. Perhaps you can spot something right now from your window that you can add to your collection.