Welcome: A Few Meandering Thoughts About Being Gladly Received

March 25, 2025March 26, 2025 / Ally Bean / 205 Comments

I take my blog prompts where I find them…

Years ago I remember reading an article about how to connect with people, online and in real life. The gist of the article was about ways to make sure you’ll be gladly received, appreciated even by the people you meet.

In retrospect I realize that the article touched on ideas you might find in Norman Vincent Peale’s ‘The Power of Positive Thinking’ but that’s not what the article was about. It was a modern take.

According to the article the formula for being included was simple. Initially you establish yourself as memorable, then you apply yourself to being likable. A leads to B, familiarity with your uniqueness leads to people feeling comfortable around you. Then as long as you are consistent, you will be welcomed.

I’ve never definitively decided what I think about this advice, however it’s stuck with me— maybe to be shared and discussed in this very moment.

🔹 Playing the part of devil’s advocate here, first off it seems to me that being memorable can be a slippery slope. It’s great if you’re remembered for doing something ostensibly positive, but how many times do you remember someone because of the less positive thing that they did?

[QUICK: elementary school – who threw up in class? high school – who was stoned more often than not? college – who got caught cheating on an exam?]*

🔹 Then of course there’s also the issue of the definition of likable. Without using a dictionary, mine would be something along the lines of:

friendly, warm, non-judgmental
assertive but not aggressive
truthfulness wrapped in kindness

How would you define a likable person? Are you one? Is this something you aim to be?

🔹 And as for consistent, something I think of as being conscientious, but of course could also mean consistently not being conscientious, I’d suggest that most people don’t pay close enough attention to what other people do to really notice if someone is consistent.

Thus I will conclude by saying that the foregoing, my gentle readers and kind lurkers, is nothing more than my addled brain’s meanderings, unfiltered and with no hidden agenda, after seeing the word WELCOME on a wooden container holding a few tulip bulbs.

This is what I thought about.

Any remarks, regrets, reconsiderations you’d like to add?

* In fourth grade – Janie who was shy and scared to stand up in front of the class, threw up in front of the class while giving her report on how to play her flute. Vomit went everywhere, including inside her flute. She didn’t return to class for a few days.

In high school – Doug who was a kid who lived down the street from me on the swankier end of the street, had a ready supply of weed. He enhanced his social standing by putting vodka dyed dark green into an empty Chloraseptic sore throat spray bottle that he carried around, happy to spray some into your mouth.

In college – Susan who was smart but lived in fear of not being perfect, was caught sneaking around in the library cheating on a take home honor system exam. She cried her way into being allowed to take it a second time. She got an A+ of course.

A Text Not Meant For Me, A Game Not Played By Me

March 18, 2025 / Ally Bean / 257 Comments

IT WAS AROUND THIS TIME 5 years ago when I lost touch with, let’s call her, Kathleen the Control Freak— a natural born queen bee, uptight and competitive.

The Covid-19 pandemic lockdown had just begun. I’d texted her to make sure she was doing okay and got a terse reply something to the effect of: “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

I responded with a polite “Just checking in” and left it at that.

During the next few months I tried a few more times to text her, our usual way of communicating, but got no reply.

Crickets make more noise.

Come December we didn’t receive a holiday card from Kathleen the Control Freak which confirmed I no longer existed in her small world which, truthfully, I was happy to not be part of anymore.

I’ve never been good in the role of a wannabe to a queen bee.

• • •

FAST FORWARD TO A FEW weeks ago when Kathleen the Control Freak texted me, including me in a group text to friends who play pickleball at her club. This seemed odd because: 1) her previous behavior over the last five years suggested I am persona non grata; and 2) I don’t play pickleball.

I believe I was accidentally included.

At this point, fun as it would have been to text a group reply about this queen bee’s error, I did not do that. Instead I watched in real time as everyone, a group of women who’d never give me the time of day, texted among themselves.

From this I observed that these women, who gushed and fawned over each other, waited dutifully for Kathleen the Control Freak to establish dominance by dictating where and when they’d be going to breakfast together the next morning after she finished her 8:00 a.m. pickleball game.

Queens gotta rule all the courts.

• • •

NOW AS YOU CAN IMAGINE this experience left me with a few things to consider.

• I wondered why Kathleen the Control Freak, a perfectionist along the lines of Martha Stewart, still has my phone number, presumably for some reason, in her exalted list of contacts.

I admit this seemed odd to me but also not worth dwelling on. Her number is no longer in my contacts and that’s what matters to me.

• I wondered why I’d ever considered Kathleen the Control Freak to be a friend. Was I wrong when I thought she was fun to be around? Or have we both changed over the years— she getting bossier, me getting mellower?

That’s the conclusion I’m sticking with because I see no need to overthink why someone ghosts you.

• But most importantly, and this is where the snark is, I wondered about whether I should be mischievous and show up to join the group for breakfast the next morning.

After all I knew the details of the plan to get together, didn’t I?

But I didn’t go. For one thing it’d have been an hour drive to get to their side of town and that seemed more bothersome & petty than worthwhile & victorious.

And for another thing despite contemplating this way to upset them, in reality I didn’t care about whatever the heck was going on with this group of grown-up mean girls.

Under the circumstances, would you?

QUESTIONS OF THE DAY

Thinking about these last five years, has anyone ghosted you? Have you ghosted anyone? Details if you please.

Have you ever found yourself in a group text where you didn’t belong? If so, what did you do?

Who’s the most control freaky person you know in real life?

Do you play pickleball?

• • 🪴 • •

Don’t Let The Seeds Stop You: 6 Random Things To Tell You On A Tuesday In March

March 11, 2025 / Ally Bean / 216 Comments

1 – I am editing. After reading about the Zombie Test for writing I latched onto the idea. The test, created by Rebecca Johnson deputy director of the Marine Corps War College, is a rule of thumb that helps you discern if you’re writing in the passive voice. All you do is: “Try adding by zombies after the verb in your sentence. If it makes sense, congratulations! You’ve probably got yourself some passive voice.”

2 – I am laughing. So you know how everyone seems to want to stereotype other people by their generations? Well this snarky article, An Updated Guide To Generations, explains how to do this. I’ll just go ahead and tell you that I feel at home in this stereotype: “Maybe Boomers: Gen Xers who type on their phones using a single pointer finger.” Mock me as you will.

3 – I am communicating. I recently stumbled over the simple idea that there are three ways you can reply when someone tells you something about themself. You need to discern if this person is looking to be hugged, to be heard, or to be helped. If your response is what they expect, then you’ll easily connect. Never thought about interpersonal communication in this way, but now that I have I like it.

4 – I am dubious. On my radar is 25 Front Door Color Meanings Revealing the Personality of Your Home, an article that purports to intuit the personality of your home by noting your front door color. While I’m all about expressing yourself, I don’t believe front door color alone says much. It’s just one variable that contributes to the overall look of your property, so don’t get too hung up on it.

5 – I am remembering. This is the “do it now” Lockdown Manifesto written by Julian Hanna and published on April 17, 2020. It influenced me, in a positive way, about how I’d face the pandemic. Going back to re-read it five years later I am struck by two things: 1) it’s great timeless advice; and 2) we were so innocent about how Covid-19 would upend our lives forever.

6 – I am exploring. After a conversation with a friend about what it means to say you’re curious, I found this Britannica “Discovery Your Curiosity Type” Quiz. To be clear I wasn’t looking for a quiz, I was looking for a definition of the concept of curiosity, but the quiz popped up in my research. I took it, learning that of the 4 curiosity types I am an intuitive discoverer aka Explorer.

QUESTIONS OF THE DAY

Assuming you don’t want to write in the passive voice, will you be utilizing the Zombie Test to make sure your voice is active?

Do you need to be hugged, heard, or helped today?

What color is your front door? What, if anything, does it say about your house?

Which kind of curiosity type are you? Did you take the quiz or are you guessing?

~ ~ 🍉 ~ ~

I’m Pleased To Announce That Miss Nettie Briggs Has Entered The Chat

March 4, 2025March 4, 2025 / Ally Bean / 217 Comments

Give attitude, get attention, right?

I like that saying, it explains many things.

I prefer, and I think you’d agree, that the attitude be positive spunk [aka signal] rather than negative junk [aka noise], BUT the result is the same: the attention is on you.

Not that giving attitude is anything new.

In fact back when the world was a more genteel place free from 24/7 news and social media, I’m sure people gave attitude— just in more subtle ways. They may have been irritated by events and other people, but seemingly they tolerated that irritation with more grace than today*.

Case in point is Miss Nettie Briggs. She is featured in the professional portrait seen at the top of this post. She is looking placid, mildly amused by what she is doing.

Or so it seems to me.

I found this photo mixed in among the boxes of family photos that I sorted last summer and wrote about in Confessions Of A Reluctant Family Historian: My Kingdom For A Shredder, my most popular post of 2024. [Go figure?]

I don’t know for sure who Miss Nettie Briggs was: my mother had written her name on the back of the photo so she knew who she was. But there’s no one left from any generation that’d be able to tell me Miss Nettie Briggs’s story.

However I have an inkling of who she might have been.

I remember my mother talking about a nurse who came to live with her family for a year, tasked with looking after my mother’s older sister who’d had abdominal surgery. Something that at the time was a dangerous procedure that required months of bedrest in order to heal.

Nettie lived with them and when not looking after her charge, who slept a lot, she read books to and played games with my mother and her younger sister.

Mom liked Miss Nettie Briggs, as I recall. Enough, I would guess, to keep a photo of Miss Nettie Briggs around in a ratty cardboard box full of dusty old family photos for me to find one day.

I adore Miss Nettie Briggs because I find her charming.

Thus it has come to be that Nettie’s photo is now framed and hanging on the wall in our study where I do my blogging, old-school style on a desktop computer.

Meaning that whenever I do anything related to blogging Nettie is looking over my shoulder, keeping my thoughts mostly civil, my sense of humor firmly intact, and my vibe jovial enough.

At least most days.