Snippets Of Life

The One About Multitasking, Machine Beeps, And Marital Bliss

/ Ally Bean / 190 Comments

“Monica, you’re all chaotic and twirly, but not in a good way.”

That’s a line from the TV show Friends. Zen-Den said it to me as he walked into the kitchen.

I was in the kitchen doing important things.

I’d just put some cornbread into the oven, chili was in the slow cooker, and on the counter was a new Lands’ End catalogue that I was leafing through looking for some spring-y clothes.

I had a Minwax color chart [36″ x 10″] spread across the kitchen table near the window waiting for the late afternoon sunshine to get over there so I could clearly see the three gazillion and two color choices. And the washer & dryer were doing their things in the laundry room adjacent to the kitchen.  Also I was keeping an eye on the dishwash that was almost finished with a load.

I WAS MULTI-TASKING, people.

Well before I could say a word back to Mr. Hilarmoose, the dishwasher started beeping: “I’m ready for you to unload me now.” The dryer started beeping: “Hurry, hurry, don’t let these clothes get wrinkled.” And the washing machine finished its dramatic last spin beeping its end of cycle announcment: “now. Now. NOW.”

Plus for good measure the slow cooker, a bit of a hussy, chimed in with a slow seductive beep to tell me: “I’m finished cooking now and will be over here keeping dinner warm.” 

“You look busy,” said Mr. Obvious.

“Yes. You could help,” said I as I opened the dishwasher door to let the steam out while dashing past him stopping momentarily to reposition the color chart into the sunshine on my way to rescue the clothes from the dryer.

“Pretty please with sugar on top,” I added because I’m a polite woman* who by then was struggling with the wet towels in the washing machine that didn’t want to go into the dryer without a fight.

SO WHAT DID HE DO? In what way did he help?

With a devilish smile and an ornery gleam in his eye he picked up the catalogue on the counter, moseyed over to the kitchen table where the light was better and said, “you’d look good in the light blue t-shirt.”

Which is true, but really? That’s helping?

And with that commentary, my friends, I’ll leave this tale of marital bliss– or what passes for it around here.

HONESTLY…

Any of this sound familiar to you?!! 🤨

* I’m baffled by something. If you’re on a Keto diet and have given up on sugar do you say: pretty please with bacon on top? Or butter on top? Or suet  on top?  How do you rework that polite phrase so it has meaning for you?

Pondering A Quandary: Is The Goal Of Setting Goals A Good Goal?

/ Ally Bean / 243 Comments

from Gretchen Rubin

Welcome to my quandary of the month.

I took Gretchen Rubin’s Four Tendencies Quiz [HERE] to learn what my personality tendency is. I am a QUESTIONER.

As much as I enjoy irony and want to say I question that result, I don’t. It sounds right to me. And it explains, at least to me, why lately I’ve been having a difficult time deciding what to write about here.

Does this happen to you, too?

It’s not like I’m not writing, totally bereft of words, wondering where Muse is hiding.  Nope, I’m writing oodles but I’m never satisfied with what I write. I have an idea, write a post, edit it into perfection, then question whether I want, or need, to talk about whatever I wrote.

Thus I delete many a post and try writing another one, hoping I’ll stumble on a different idea or point of view that seems worthy of publishing here.

Blogging has become one big old game of Ally Try Again.

And the thing is that after all these years of writing a personal blog my hesitation seems odd to me. I’m a free spirit [read my tagline] so wouldn’t it follow that I should just know | intuit | reason what to write about?

In the past that’s been the case.

However lately, much to my consternation, I’ve been floundering confounded by a strange tension in my mind about what to do next. And I don’t like feeling like this, it doesn’t seem like proactive me, yet here we are.

from Witchy Moms

So in an attempt to make sense of my behavior I decided to explore the concept of setting goals. Perhaps I need some? Could that be my issue?

I do tend to fly by the seat of my pants here.

Have you noticed?

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary a GOAL is: “the end toward which effort is directed : AIM.” Going a bit further, the dictionary suggests synonyms include but are not limited to: objective, intent, purpose.

In addition to the basic dictionary definition there’s always that business dude, Peter Drucker, and his old chestnut S.M.A.R.T.  This acronym stands for: Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, Time bound.

It’s trite, but utilizing it could help me reverse my recent descent into indecision, I guess.

The thing is that the goals I’m contemplating, ones that’d resonate with me, wouldn’t be based on numbers because that’d be silly. I don’t need to focus on word count or publishing deadlines or reader engagement stats to feel like I have it going on here.

Instead I’m thinking about goals based on a personal sense of purpose. Something like a manifesto, but not so intense. It’d be a declaration of my raison d’être stated in the simplest way possible, perhaps embodied in a few NUDGE WORDS, maybe from the Growth or Adventure categories as explained HERE?

My mythical set of goals would be something I could use as motivation, a kind of thesis statement meant to keep me on the right track so that I’d not waste time pussyfooting around in my mind trying to decide what to write about.

Or maybe I’m overthinking this? That’s a possibility too. Following that line of reasoning I have to wonder if I should get over myself and simply show up, then write something, anything even.

Perhaps THAT is the goal after all– and I already know it.

Thoughts, anyone?

from Disappointing Affirmations

QUESTIONS OF THE DAY

If you write a personal blog do you find yourself confused about what to write about next? Never? Sometimes? Always? How do you handle that?

Do you tend to set goals for everything you do? Some things you do? None of the things you do? How has that worked out for you?

Do you agree or disagree with the statement: a good enough something, whatever it might be, is better than waiting for a perfect nothing?

In Which I Admit To Joyfully Thwarting Some Youthful Shenanigans + Reader Comments

/ Ally Bean / 200 Comments

 Joyfully Thwarting Youthful Shenanigans

Remember Muttley, Dick Dastardly’s sidekick?

It’s good to be an adult.

[Bwha-ha-ha!]

A few weeks ago we had an unusually warm day. The temps were in the 70s and it was dry and sunny outside. Around 4:00 p.m. I went into the living room to read.

Before I plopped down on the loveseat I decided to open the window just a little bit, about 2″, to take advantage of the pleasant fresh air. As I began to read I heard rustling sounds outside the window. That’s not unusual when you live on a wooded lot, so I didn’t think much about it.

It wasn’t until I heard voices that I became interested in what was happening outside the window.

“So you gonna do it?”

[Do what, thought I?]

I got up from the loveseat and walked over to look out the window.  Immediately below me were two neighbor boys, about 10 years old, who were scrunched down hiding in our bushes while having a serious conversation about what one was going to do.

“Maybe.”

The gist of their conversation, that I could clearly overhear through the open window, was that one boy had challenged the other to run up onto our stoop, ring the doorbell, then run back into the bushes to hide.

A classic prank, no?

They figured, correctly, that from their vantage point crouched down in our bushes they’d be able to see whoever opened the door and watch that person look confused.

IT WAS GOING TO BE HILARIOUS.

They just knew it.

So I waited patiently at the window. Eventually one kid found the gumption he needed to be a prankster. He ran up onto the stoop, rang the bell, then darted into the bushes.

THERE WAS SNICKERING.

Lots of it.

I did nothing except stand quietly at the window looking down on the youth below, waiting to see what they were going to do when no one came to the door.

[Truth bomb, I may have been smiling a bit too much.]

As you can imagine when no one came to the door these two boys were defeated. Their classical prank had failed. Their shoulders sagged, they stood up in the bushes, and muttered. Then the one who’d rang the bell stepped out of the bushes and started to walk across our lawn to his house.

“Dude not that way they’ll see ‘ya.”

To which the first one looked exasperated as he shouted back to his friend still in the bushes, “THEY’RE NOT HOME, haven’t you been paying attention?”

“Oh yah…”

And with that the boys walked slowly across our yard in plain sight, looking dejected, in a way that only failed pranksters can look.

And me, what did I do? I started laughing and am still smiling when I think about how I thwarted this prank. There are moments when being an adult is SO FUN!

Then, of course, who could forget Huckleberry Hound?

~ ~ • ~ ~

AND FINALLY FOUR READER COMMENTS…

About your take on the word Matriarch:

“I am the matriarch in my family, now that my mom is gone…and I don’t have a problem with that word. Or crone or even sea hag. So long as it is said to me with love, respect and good humour. No one laughs harder at me than myself 😂.”

~ Deb

“Call me any name you want to as long as I think ‘the shoe fits’…. ‘Elderly’ is a tough one, though. Some day, many years down the road, I may earn that particular stripe but only because of the eighty or ninety wonderful years leading up to it.”

~ Dave

“Matriarch is a word that means she is the head of her tribe, in my case, that would be my mother. My turn will come. Interpretation is a funny thing. Words are used in various ways and transform over the years, their original meaning becoming muddled.”

~ Dale

“Wow. I grew up in a matriarchal family so I see it as a compliment! Isn’t it funny how we all have our own perceptions based on our experience? Sea hag would raise my hackles!”

~ Kay

If The Name Fits: An Absurd Conversation With An Amusing Friend

/ Ally Bean / 263 Comments

~ • ~

“Oh, you got to have friends, the feeling’s oh so strong….” 🎶

A friend who I shall call Wendy was telling me about something someone had said to her that had irked her. This wasn’t a case of trash talking but she felt she’d been dissed.

The someone had told Wendy that because she was the matriarch of her family, Wendy should keep her adult children in line– and that she hadn’t been doing that.

The comment was meant to be a criticism of Wendy’s mothering skills and how her adult children lived their lives.

The person saying it to Wendy was a someone who Wendy described as a snob, a social climber, a fraud. She didn’t usually pay attention to this someone’s opinions, but in this instance Wendy was peeved.

This someone had got her goat.

I figured that Wendy had taken offense at the idea she was failing as a mother because she allowed her adult children to be who they are, but I was wrong.

That was not the case.

Nope, Wendy had no problem with a criticism leveled at her parenting skills, she didn’t care about that. What bothered Wendy was that she’d been called a Matriarch, a name she found insulting because to her it meant she was old. It was in her mind an example of agism.

[Even though Wendy is the matriarch of her family, but let’s not get stuck on reality here.]

Looking for a way to put this perceived slight into perspective, I suggested that being called a Matriarch is better than being called a Crone, an ugly old woman. That’s a word I find derogatory and Wendy agreed.

She wasn’t a Crone.

Continuing on with the idea that there are worse names to be called than Matriarch, I suggested that at least this someone hadn’t called Wendy a Sea Hag, an old witch who lives near the sea. To me that seemed more demeaning than being thought of as the head of a family with the power to influence family members.

But you know what?

Wendy liked the idea of being called a Sea Hag. She said she enjoyed walking on the beach by the ocean so the thought of being a Sea Hag made her happy. She could easily accept that name because it was more in tune with who she is.

And with that admission I said the only thing I could think to say. I said three important words that keep friendships alive, I said: I believe you.

Because I do.

Questions Of The Day

Putting aside any concerns you might have about gendered language, would you take offense if someone called you the Matriarch or Patriarch of your family? Why or why not?

Thinking of all the names, positive or negative or neutral,  you’ve been called in your life, how much do you care about the way in which someone else refers to you?

Do you feel, like I do, that friends who are able to not take themselves too seriously are put on this earth to keep you laughing with them… at yourself… at life in general?

~ ~ 🤎 ~ ~