My Book Club

I am in a book club.

Okay, that's not really true.  It was true for about two months.  About two years ago.

Now, it's kinda more like I'm in a social club.  That occasionally (okay, only twice) reads a book (and that's a very generous description of our reading material).  And eats fabulous food that we all bring to the gathering.  And there's wine.  A lot of wine.

But most importantly, there's friendship.  And love.  And support.  The kind that only your bestest girlfriends can give you.

Here's the scoop on the BFD's (Betty Ford Dropouts--our book club name).

It really did start out as a book club.  I have wanted to be in a book club for years.  My parents have been in a book club for literally as long as I can remember.  It seemed something worthy of aspiring to be a member of.  So I started asking my girlfriends if they were interested.  I presented this fabulous idea wherein each month we would read a current literary work and, over dinner and drinks,  have revealing and thought-provoking discussions as to how the characters related to our lives and the world around us.

They were interested.  Kind of.  They loved the idea of getting together once a month.  They adored the idea of having dinner together and catching up over a glass (or five) of wine.  They were excited about the thought-provoking discussions.

The whole "read a book" part seemed to get lost somewhere.

I don't think it was because no one wanted to read a book.  It had more to do with people thinking they were too busy to get through a whole book.  It also had a little to do with trying to find a book that appealed to everyone in the group--a tough challenge for a group of nine women with varied jobs, families, interests, and available time.

We forged ahead, though, and at our first official gathering, we delved into the depth and complexity of Cosmopolitan magazine.

Yep.  Cosmo.  Not exactly what I had envisioned for my book club, but it was a start.  It was, at the very least (and wow, this did give new meaning to the term 'very least') all of us discussing the same thing, so we had that going for us.

Did it really matter that the "same thing" we were discussing was the tactic of using your thong underwear as a scrunchie in your hair in order to feel more sexy and turn on your spouse?  Or what you can "accomplish" in the shower, besides actually bathing?  It was animated and enthusiastic discussion, I will definitely say that.  I'm not really sure we would have had the same results discussing, say, The Help.

For this inaugural meeting we met at our local Chevy's so no one would have to clean their house and then clean up again after everyone left.  It seemed like such a great idea.

This was the first and last time we ever met outside of one of our homes for a BFD gathering.  Incidentally, it's also one of the last times we actually discussed any reading material.

As it turns out, discussing thong underwear (and that wasn't even one of the racier topics covered) in a booth at Chevy's is not what I'd call comfortable when you have a small child from the booth behind you hanging his head into your booth and listening to the conversation.  Awkward.  Don't really know (or want to know) what that child took away from his otherwise lovely dinner out with his family.

Suffice it to say that neither he nor his future girlfriends are really going to understand his fixation with scrunchies.

We have since altered our meetings somewhat.  We have put ourselves on house arrest--no more public gatherings.  We have virtually eliminated the "book" part of book club.  Our only other forays into literary material were one Harlequin Romance (named, and I kid you not, Red Wine and Her Sexy Ex--yeah, we are Classy with a capital C) and Wifey--described by the author herself as an "adult novel".  That's not-so-subtle code for "don't let your kids get their hands on this one".

Detecting a pattern?

It's pretty hard to miss.  Lost amidst the obvious raunchiness, however, would be the heart of this group.

As much as we all have fun knocking back a few glasses of wine, maybe a jello shot here and there, reading what would be generously described as smutty material, what we really look forward to the most is each other.

We talk.  We listen.  We giggle.  We sympathize.  We console.  We support.  We laugh.  We celebrate each other's milestones and mourn each other's losses.  We give advice and we take advice and we ignore advice.  We have a lot to say to each other, and the conversation never gets dull.

I was looking for a book club.  I guess, technically, I get that occasionally.  But even better is what I get consistently: a group of smart, funny, considerate, perceptive, supportive girlfriends.

Who all know what to do with a scrunchie.

Advice

Tonight at the dinner table Dave, without warning, asked me to give my daughter advice.  He didn't specify what kind of advice.  He just very suddenly, between bites of parmesan chicken, salad and biscuits, blurted "Advice from a mother to a daughter--GO!"

I had no idea this was coming, so I was not ready with life-changing words of wisdom for Olivia.  I racked my brain for half a minute (the pressure was on, as there were three people staring at me, awaiting my potentially life-altering utterance).  I came up with advice my great aunt Adah once gave to me in a letter before I left for college: "Don't feel the need to be friends with everyone."

Well, that's not exactly what she said.  She actually wrote, "Don't make friends too quickly."  But again, I was under pressure and unprepared, so I got it kinda right.  And it has stuck with me all this time, so it seems like it must have been good advice.

Olivia just smiled and nodded.  She didn't quite know what was going on and why she had been singled out to receive advice.  Turns out, she hadn't been singled out at all, because just then....

Dave looked at Olivia and commanded "Advice from a sister to a brother--GO!"

And it went on like this for the next about ten minutes or so.  Advice from a brother to a sister.  Advice from a father to a son.  Advice from a son to a father.  Advice from a daughter to a mother.  Advice from daughter to her father.  You get the idea.  We covered every permutation at rapid-fire speed.

It was a fun activity, and revealed a bit about each of us--both as the givers and the receivers of the advice.

For example, Olivia's advice to me, in a nutshell, was to be a good listener to people telling stories and not pipe in with the ending before they are done.  It's wasn't exactly typical, sweeping advice that will improve the overall scope of my life, but it was her very personal advice to me.  I drive her crazy when I don't wait for her to finish a story and I interrupt and blurt how it ends.  So while it was not the kind of advice I expected her to give to me, it's definitely useful.  Intent noted.  I will try, Olivia.  I will try.

Steven's advice to me took me off-guard for a few moments.  It took him over a minute to come up with, in his words, "the right way to say this".  That had me a little worried.  It appeared as though he wanted to tell me something that would hurt my feelings, so he was trying to find a way to soften the blow.  I smiled and patiently waited.  When it finally came out, it was something along the lines of "a valid opinion recognizes all sides of an issue."  He emphasized the word valid.

I did not know what to make of that one.  My first reaction was to just keep smiling.  'Cause I kinda wanted to cry.  And that would have ruined the game, which really was great fun.

So I racked my brain, and I mean I REALLY racked my brain (all the while still smiling), and I couldn't come up with what he could have been talking about.  Steven and I have great discussions on everything from the Israeli/Palestinian conflict to what kind of tux he should get for the Junior Prom.  And I mean these are GOOD discussions.  We acknowledge differing opinions, we look up facts, we play devil's advocate.  So truly, I was stumped as to why he would think that I don't recognize opposing sides to issues.  Or why my opinions weren't valid.

But I said nothing.  I just smiled and nodded.

Dave stepped in to disagree with Steven's advice.  He stated that the whole point of opinions is that in fact they do NOT have to recognize the other side, thus the expression 'Opinions are like assholes--everybody has one'.  He really said that.  At the dinner table.  We're classy like that.

And this statement degenerated, just for a brief moment, into uncontrollable laughter and some anatomical talk involving, shall we say, sizes of opinions.  Again, I cannot emphasize enough how classy and appropriate our conversation can be.

This not only made me smile (a real smile this time), but it made Olivia come close to spitting out her milk (this is not an unusual occurrence for Olivia; she's pretty easy to crack up at the dinner table, and it's kind of becoming a bit of a sport to time things so that she's got a mouthful of milk at just the right moment).

Steven chimed in at this point to say that his advice was more in reference to politics in nature, not advice aimed at me.  Whew!

The advice kept coming at lightening speed for a few more minutes.  Some was sarcastic.  Some was funny.  Some was sincere, as was Dave's advice to me (the mom reluctantly approaching an empty nest): "Enjoy each phase of your life."

I knew exactly what he was trying to tell me.  No one knows me better than he does.  It was very thoughtful advice that I will keep close to my heart as life begins changing at a more rapid pace.

And as happens in our household, the seriousness can only last so long.  We are a family prone to sarcasm and humor.

So then it got just plain silly (Steven to Olivia: be ready on time in the morning; Olivia to Steven: don't rush people; Steven to Olivia: ask nicely when you want something; Olivia to Steven: don't offer something if you're not going to give it).  You get the idea.  All this was going on amidst lots of very loud laughter from all parties involved.

Finally, I thought of a piece of advice that I really wanted to give.  It was serious advice.  It was good advice.  From experience.  From the heart.

Advice from a Mom to her kids: "It's never too late to say you're sorry."

Mind you, at this point, my kids don't actually have anything to say they are sorry for (that they know of...).

What was really going through my mind was the dozens of times in the last sixteen years (which, coincidentally, is the exact amount of time I have had children) I have called my parents to apologize for the many, many, many things I did in my (relative) youth that I now can see must have driven them beyond crazy.  Mostly little things, a couple of doozies thrown in here and there (again, Mom and Dad, if I had that whole Hawaii thing to do over...).  My parents aren't holding any grudges, and most of the things I call to apologize for they say that they don't really remember : )  But it's always a fun conversation, and I sometimes am sure that if karma (or justice) had a sound it would be the sound of my parents' laughter as they listen to me tell them how sorry I am for having driven them crazy doing the things that my kids now do that drive me crazy.

If we play the advice game again, as I'm sure we will, I have already thought of one more piece of what I think is wise counsel.   "After you leave home, call your parents!"

I'm talking to you, Steven and Olivia!

I will be enjoying this phase of my life when you aren't home, of course, per your dad's advice, but still, call us!

Not to say you're sorry for anything (that's more gonna come after you've got kids of your own).   Call to tell us a story (I will not interrupt and ruin the ending, Olivia).  Call to talk politics.

Or call to ask for some advice.

On What Aisle Would I Find the Will Power?

My best friend and I were having lunch today.  Two forty-somethings, enjoying a lovely al fresco dining experience at Chipotle.  We spent much of our time talking about how we'd like to lose ten pounds.  This is not an unusual conversation for us.  We have it almost every time we have lunch together (yes, I see the irony).  The difference this time around, however, was that we have finally come to the conclusion that we now MUST lose ten pounds. Not because we want to look sexy in our summer shorts.  We're beyond that.  I think our bodies are beyond that, by about ten years or so (okay, okay, twenty years).  No, we no longer WANT to lose ten pounds.  We MUST lose ten pounds.  We SHOULD lose ten pounds.We NEED to lose ten pounds.

We are at the age, we have decided, that needing to drop some weight is not solely about vanity anymore.  It's about health.  It's about longevity.  It's about being able to physically do what you want to do.  It's about staying injury-free, surgery free, and medication-free for as long as we possibly can.

So there we were, having resolutely decided that yes, it was time, and we WOULD lose the weight.  And soon.  We have running shoes.  We have the time to take walks/runs in the morning.  We know what healthy food looks like.  We just needed one more thing: will power.

We weren't quite sure where we were going to find that.  We had some ideas to get us started.

Perhaps we might find will power in our minds.  If we could just summon the inner motivation, channel it with some positive thinking, and visualize our success, we would have no problems achieving our goal.  Sadly, we've been trying to do this for eons, and it doesn't seem to be working for us (we should probably stop trying to do this over coconut crunch mochas--just sayin').  Next...

Or maybe we might find will power by looking to the triumph of others in their pursuit of weight loss.  Possibly we might be inspired to stick to it by some feel-good stories of other women just like ourselves who overcame seemingly insurmountable obstacles (such as Starbucks on every corner) and now wear pants two sizes smaller.  Unfortunately, when confronted with women like ourselves who have lost weight and now look fabulous, we mostly just get snarky and hypothesize about how they probably don't have jobs, have time and money to kill, and have private trainers and meal plans (we know they probably don't, but it makes us feel better).  Moving on...

So it didn't seem likely that we were going to find the will power we were looking for in any of these places.  We had looked there before with no luck and even less results.

So where does a girl go to get some will power these days?  I decided that I think maybe we can find will power in the grocery store (I'm still not sure on which aisle).  That sounds odd, I know, but getting healthy has to start with what you put into your body.  And you get the stuff you put into your body at the supermarket.

The problem is that the good stuff you put into your body is surrounded by all the other crap that you really, really want to put into your body (but shouldn't).  The hard part is that somehow you must summon your will power and pass up all the goodies (hello, Cadbury Eggs and jelly beans...) in favor of the good-for-you's (yeah, I see you spinach and broccoli).

And how do you do that?

That's not a rhetorical question.  I'm really asking.  How do you do that?  What's the secret?

Did you think I had an answer?  Cause I don't.  If I did I'd have marketed it, sold it, and be ridiculously wealthy.  And I would be thinner.  And probably have a personal trainer.  And a meal plan.

People I Can't Forgive, Part 2

Let's just get right into it.

OFFENDER #5: Newt Gingrich
It baffles me that people are, of their own free will, selecting this man as their candidate of choice to represent them not only in the upcoming Presidential Election, but possibly to represent them AS their President; to be the face of the United States of America; to be the voice of our great nation.

I say it again--it baffles me.  To no end.

This is a man who has TWICE abandoned ship in his marriages, both times during times of medical crisis for his (former) wives.  And both times he had already been cheating on said wives.  Yet he claims to represent the idea of "traditional family values".  Huh?

He is bombastic, impetuous, childish, bratty, and frankly just plain not likable.  The thought of this man running the country frightens me more than I can convey in words.  And I'm not alone.  Last night, as the networks began to realize that he was about to win the South Carolina primary, one of the reporters revealed that many of Newt's former colleagues who are still serving in Congress were, and I quote, "freaking out" at the thought that this man might be in charge.  And that was not just Republicans freaking out.  Newt is an equal opportunity guy.  He freaks 'em all out.

OFFENDER#6: Rick Santorum
Oh my god.  This guy freaks me out even more than Newt.  And that's pretty hard to do.

Some choice (paraphrased) quotes from Mr. Santorum:
•Your teenage daughter got pregnant from a rape? She should consider it a "gift from God".
•John F. Kennedy's speech on the importance of the separation of church and state: it "made (me) want to throw up".
•on President Obama: "what a snob" for wanting every child to have the opportunity to go to college.

Oy.  This guy is such a  right-wing idiot he makes Rush Limbaugh look like a mere entertainer...

OFFENDER #7: Rush Limbaugh
Oh, wait, according to Rick Santorum, Rush IS just an "entertainer".  Yeah, right.  Name me any  "entertainer  "who has Republican candidates walking on eggshells so as not to offend.

I don't get it.  I just don't get it.  At all.  Not even a little.

This man called a female college student who wanted insurance coverage for birth control a "slut", a "prostitute", "someone who wants to be paid for having sex".  And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, he proposed that she should have to post videos of her having sex with said birth control online so he, and all the other "taxpayers" who paid for her contraception, could get something for their money.

Wow.  Any person with a daughter should be offended.  Any person with a brain should be offended.

And yet none of the Republican candidates seem to be offended.

Why does this man, this arrogant ass (and really, that onomatopoetic name is far too nice sounding for him) hold so much sway with Republicans?  Can he actually deliver votes, or is he just a big, loud-mouthed blowhard?  That's a serious question.  My money's on the blowhard.

That may be the one and only thing on which I actually agree with Rick Santorum.


OFFENDER #8: Sarah Palin
Yeah, I know.  I already have her on my first list of People I Can't Forgive.  But she's that bad.  Even John McCain had a hard time keeping a straight face on CNN yesterday when asked to comment on Ms. Palin's recent announcement that, should there be a brokered convention for the Republicans, she would of course be available to step in and do whatever her country needed her to do.

Please, Sarah, do not mistake the need for a brokered convention as the need for you to in any way try to enter national politics.


Election season has a long way to go.  Stay tuned for Part 3.