Conversations

We’re Both Polite, But There’s Some Nuttiness Going On

/ Ally Bean / 57 Comments

I’m the first to admit that I can be slightly nutty.  So when I realized a pleasant casual acquaintance behaved in way that struck me as nutty, I started wondering: who’s the nutty one here?  Naturally I turned to a friend for her take on this.

Here’s what Acquaintance does that Friend and I think is odd.

Whenever Acquaintance sees you she starts the conversation by stating what you’re wearing.  She’ll say things like: you have on a red t-shirt… you’re carrying a brown purse… your jeans are faded.

Then she’ll just stare at you, saying nothing more.  There’s no comment, pro or con, about your clothes, your accessories.

Only her looking at you.

This makes Friend and I feel awkward, like we’ve done something wrong, but we’re not sure what it is.

I’ve taken to parroting back what Acquaintance says to me. 

That is, I’ll repeat exactly what she has said back to her in a declarative sentence: yes, I have on a red t-shirt… am carrying a brown purse… my jeans are faded.

Friend thinks my approach to Acquaintance is brilliant because it allows me to seem to be chatting.  Of course, in reality I’m feeling unnerved about how this peculiar conversation is starting.

Again.

Friend and I have our theories about why Acquaintance behaves like she does, but we are curious to know what you, gentle readers, think is going on with Acquaintance.

Is Acquaintance’s behavior normal or nutty? Do you know anyone who starts conversations like this?  Are Friend and I being overly weirded out by this?  And if so, why?  

A Conversation About Self-Awareness & Assumptions

/ Ally Bean / 36 Comments

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~ ~ • ~ ~

A friend, who was clearly absorbed in her own thoughts, got into my car, buckled up, and without so much as a Sherman T. Potter “howdy-do” said:

Do you think you were wanted?

Now I’m a good friend. Attentive. A natural-born problem solver, but you have to give me some context.  So I said the first, rather inarticulate, thing that drifted into my head: huh?

Then the story unfolded as she went on to explain that she’d started reviewing her life, all of her life, in light of a recent setback in which her job ended.

While she understood on a logical level why her job, which she tolerated, had been cut, on an spiritual level this experience had sent her into a spiral of self-doubt– and a need to understand it all.

~ • ~

We talked for a while.  She explained that the question she had asked of me wasn’t about being wanted at work, but about being wanted within a family.  That is, did I think/she think that our parents wanted us.

In my case, Yes.  In her case, No.

Getting to the crux of her contemplation, she thought that being unwanted early on would have given her some superpower to automatically know when that sort of thing was happening again.

In other words, because she was so sure of herself had she missed some sign that she was going to be kicked to the curb by this employer?

We came to no definitive conclusion about her recent job loss, but we did stumble upon a good topic of conversation about self-awareness.  That is, how we all make assumptions based on previous experiences.

And how those assumptions when applied to the here and now, aren’t always a good guide for how to live your life, even though it’s easy to delude yourself into thinking that they are.

~ ~ • ~ ~

In Which I Grumble Upon Learning My Husband’s Ringtone For Me

/ Ally Bean / 54 Comments

My cell phone, which is a flip phone and about 10 years old [don’t judge], has decided to stop me from writing or receiving texts.

Thus it came to be that instead of texting my husband, which is how we usually communicate, I phoned Zen-Den– and learned a little something about what he really thinks of me.

• • •

Him: Hey it’s you! Forgot what your ringtone was.

Me: Yep, can’t text, so must call.  What’s my ringtone?

Him: Some organ music.

Me: Like from the movie The Big Chill?  You can’t always get what you want… I’m what you need?!

Him: No, that’s not it…

Me: Like a church organ playing Amazing Grace? How sweet the sound… I’m your honey?!

Him: No, that’s not it either…

Me: Well, what is it then?

Him: It’s organ music like you’d hear at the intermission of a hockey game while the Zamboni man resurfaces the ice in the rink.

Me: Huh? THAT’S WHAT YOU’VE GOT ON YOUR PHONE FOR ME?!!  You’ve got an iPhone that lets you download about eleven gazillion plus seven songs, and that’s what you pick for me?

Him: Uh huh. It was easy to find and put on the phone.

Me: So besides being useful for cleaning floors, I’m easy– AND NOT WORTH THE EFFORT TO FIND A BETTER SONG FOR MY RINGTONE.  That’s what you’re saying?!!

Him: Yes?

Me: I see. Now I know. Okay then.

Him: Well what do you want me to put on there for you? Black Sabbath?

• • •

That’s when I let the topic drop because I wanted Zen-Den to do something for me, and in that moment it didn’t seem to be in my best interest to press the issue.

However, this is a different moment.

And I’ve been thinking about Zen-Den’s ringtone for moi, which I believe is entirely wrong. In many ways. On lots of levels.

In other words, I don’t like it.

• • •

All of this leads to my question of the day, which is:

Given your druthers, what ringtone song do you prefer to represent you on someone else’s phone?

I need a few suggestions here.  A marriage hangs in the balance.

• • •

At The Home Show: Chatting With A Carpenter, Learning Too Much

/ Ally Bean / 22 Comments

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# # #

AS SOME OF YOU KNOW, I’m the sort of person who people love to talk with.  Well, talk to– more accurately.

I’m a good listener and do love a good story.  I admit that.

Since I was a teenager, strangers, in particular, have told me their stories.  I don’t ask, they just tell me.

Sometimes to their own detriment.

# # #

THUS IT CAME AS NO SURPRISE that when Zen-Den and I were at the Home Show this past weekend, Chatty Charlie the Carpenter deviated from his sales pitch to tell me a story about his nemesis, Danny Long-Greek-Last-Name, who is also a carpenter.

In a nutshell, Chatty Charlie feels that Danny Long-Greek-Last-Name has risen above his station in life. Is a snob now. Who charges too much for his work.

Which Chatty Charlie admits is excellent.

# # #

IN FACT, CHATTY CHARLIE TOLD ME that Danny Long-Greek-Last-Name is the man who finished our house years ago.  I’d forgotten the carpenter’s name, but recognized it instantly when I heard it.

Meaning that Danny Long-Greek-Last-Name crafted our beautiful fireplace mantel and surround.

Which I love.

And am looking to have a second level added onto, so that the whole fireplace/mantle/surround area reaches almost up to the apex of the cathedral ceiling.

# # #

NOW LET’S THINK ABOUT THIS conversation, shall we?

Chatty Charlie the Carpenter, who I’m meeting for the first time, in his need to be understood, has inadvertently told me who might do a better job than he could with my small carpentry project– which Chatty Charlie claims he wants to do.

And with that glimpse into how my life unfolds [and how a small business can fail], allow me to end this post with my summation of this conversation: he cut off his nose to spite his face.