How Do You Feel About The Phrase "It Is What It Is"?

This saying causes me to cringe akin to pointy fingernails dragging ever so slowly across a chalkboard. Maybe that's a little bit melodramatic. It drives me nuts though, and I bring it up because I heard it said several times this last week. How do you feel about it? 

Without commenting on the fact that it's meaningless and redundant, nothing good seems to precede its use. Like, “I just cleaned the house for you. It is what it is.” Or, “I bought you that book you were drooling over. It is what it is.” Or, “We’re going on a date tonight. It is what it is.”

It doesn’t work that way. It is always something more disappointing in the realm of, “The dog keeps eating your socks then throws them up on the rug every morning. It is what it is.” Or, “Your parents can’t come (to whatever). It is what it is.” Or, “I’m sorry you didn’t get the job/promotion/anything you really wanted. It is what it is.” 

Today, conversing with my better/kinder/nicer half during a several hour long drive, I asked, "Why do people say this?" His response surprised me, because he consistently approaches matters from a glass-half-full prospective. Though it concisely explained how I feel about it. 

“Bill Murray recently said when people use the phrase consider it synonymous with 'you’re screwed,'” he said. This made me laugh.

Now, I don’t know if my husband’s reply was a “butt fact” (butt fact =  saying something with authority, so it sounds believable, but it is most probably made up, and not based in any sort of fact). I didn’t have the energy to  “google” it either. It sounds about right though.

There is definitely a negative connotation to “It is what it is.” It basically means suck it up ‘cause it is probably not changing. You can't improve the situation. It is usually less than good news. 

It’s the inherent hopelessness it seems to convey, at least to me. Residing to a fact. It just doesn't feel happy. Maybe that’s what I don’t like about it. 

Maybe my lamenting is over the top. It's Sunday; my day to write off the tip of my tongue.

I say, "It just is."

It spares me the shivers.

Trifecta: Relationship Rainbows

Could it be we’ll never understand each other?

Could it be not completely?

Could it be that men and women just can’t?

But,

Maybe it’s possible only with lovers.

Maybe not even then.

Maybe that’s just normal; the way it seems to go.

And,

Could it be destined for perpetual agree-to-disagrees?

Could it be merely when things are light and bright and cheery?

Could it be mutters of “how sorry” for constant misunderstandings?

But,

Maybe, just maybe, it only works with friends.

Maybe, then, only sometimes.

Maybe, though, it never really works at all.

So,

Maybe it’s just a ridiculous relationship rainbow.

Could it be the only explanation?

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33-333 words for the third definition of:

RAINBOW (noun)

1

:  an arc or circle that exhibits in concentric bands the colors of the spectrum and that is formed opposite the sun by the refraction and reflection of the sun's rays in raindrops, spray, or mist

2

a :  a multicolored array

b :  a wide assortment or range <a rainbow of flavors>

3

[from the impossibility of reaching the rainbow, at whose foot a pot of gold is said to be buried] :  an illusory goal or hope

Trifextra: For the Love of Honey

Straddling his hips, she held the honey filled bear overhead laughing.

“You don’t have the nerve!” he challenged underneath.

Making a heart of golden drops, she slowly licked each one off his stomach.

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This weekend’s Trifextra Challenge is exactly 33 words, 30 of our own and three of the following:

topple     paradigm     underneath     

nerve     honey     loop

Why Do I Know How To Do These Things?

I haven’t had the chance to play over at Mama Kat’s in the last few months so I thought I would join in the fun since I need a little lightness and air today. I chose:

5. List 10 random things you know how to do.

1.    I can bounce on a Pogo Stick like nobody’s business. If I was challenged right this very minute, I could probably do at least 50 if not 100 bounces. When my kids were little, I bought them one. Mr. Cautious (aka my husband) said, “Are you kidding? Someone will break their neck!” Well, no one broke his or her neck pogo sticking...

2.    I can turn my tongue upside down. You know, flip it over. It’s not useful but I know for a fact not everyone can do that. And not everyone can tie a cherry stem with his or her tongue either, but I can. Don’t know why I know party tricks but I do.

3.    Recite the Greek alphabet three times before a lit match burns my fingers. Again, I learned a lot in college just not always the “right” stuff.

4.    I can memorize just about anything within minutes. If you tell me your birthday (two times) or phone number (three times), I will be able to repeat it back for you the next time you see me. You should watch me Internet shop alternating credit cards (to dodge detection) from memory.

5.    I can wriggle my right ear, and only the right one, without moving any other part of my face/head.

6.    I can make homemade pasta or pizza dough within minutes.

7.    I can maintain silence for hours and hours on end. I actually think I could do a ten-day “vow of silence” meditation retreat. Now wanting to actually do it is an entirely different story.

8.    I can stand for a very, very, very long time in tree pose and do it on top of things. Like a tree stump or a rock.

9.    Not to brag but I can pick up anything with my toes, even something extremely small. It’s akin to my talent with chopsticks where I can pick up one teensy grain of white rice. Oh, and watch out, I can pinch too (with both toes and sticks).

10.    I can actually grow and maintain some decent dreadlocks…with  the right hair products, of course. Gross (?) but true. I kind of like that look sometimes (while on a beachy vacation not in regular life). 

Baby-sitting the Big Girls, Oh My!

Every other year I have this “baby-sitting” gig. It's a big job and tougher than one might think but I'm happy to do it. 

My two charges are in their mid-70s. One has a newish hip with a tendency to fall and the other has two bad knees.

They are my mother and her best friend.

My mother’s best friend, Dolly, is a wonderful British woman who swings through the states every other year, as she makes her trip halfway around the world back to Sydney. When she stays, she stays for 6-8 weeks on average. Not with me but with my mom and dad. To say they have fun with each other is an understatement. We love it!

And every time she visits, they ask me to take them into the city. It's a very short Metra commute from where I live and it’s easy.

So what makes this challenging you ask?

They are unsteady on their feet. They drink a lot of wine. They have an agenda. A dangerous combination but that’s why I’m there. Did I mention it’s a full day affair?

At one moment I’ll be walking with them, side-by-side, listening to their funny stories. The next thing I realize, I’m almost a block ahead of them. I walk back.

The day before New Year Eve, two years ago, was the chosen day. The city was crowded. Mom and Dolly ate, drank and shopped their way around Chicago. 

Getting them back to Union Station for the trip home was like culling a cattle herd of two. We had a specific train to catch and, at the rate we were moving, we needed to pick up the pace to even have a chance of making it. It became obvious that wasn't going to happen so they sat and had another glass of wine.

Successfully seated on the next train 45 minutes later, I took a deep breath. We made it. I phoned ahead to my son for a pick up on the other end. We only live two streets from the village train station but I didn’t want to take the chance of walking them up the hill to my house in the dark.

As always, I forewarned them not to get too cozy as departing the train is tricky (for them) and our station comes up fast. Be prepared to exit BEFORE it stops. They’ve heard the speech before.

The conductor called out “Next stop Western Springs. Western Springs.”

“Ok, ladies. Let’s start wrapping things up.”

“Hiiiinsdale. Next stop is Hinsdale.”

“Up, up! Time to get to the door now. Remember, one stop ahead.”

They were not prepared. My mom was putting on fresh lipstick. Dolly was looking through her packages.

“Now. We need to go NOW!”

Pulling into town, I saw our car at the curb through the train's window.

I couldn’t get them to the door in time and as we descended the stairs, the doors began to close. As the doors were closing, my mother stuck her hand between them  as if they were elevator doors sensored to open. 

The doors closed on the palm of her hand, wrist on the inside, fingers AND PURSE on the outside.

Then my phone rang.

“You guys didn’t get off. There’s a purse swinging outside the train door.”

“Honey, I gotta go. Pick us up at the next stop! MOTHER! Why did you do that? 

“I thought it would open if I stuck my hand in.”

“It doesn’t work that way. Is your hand okay? Does it hurt?”

“No. My purse is just getting heavy out there because the train is moving fast.”

“Drop it if you have to.” It weighs a ton.

“I am NOT letting go of this thing. All my stuff is in it and my good ring is out there, too.”

Oh, jeeze!

Once I realized she was ok; she wasn’t hurt. The only thing I could do was sit on the stairs, place my face in my hands and laugh hysterically. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as my mom hung on.

Arriving in the next town, we stepped off the train laughing, as people who’d just had a lovely day together would. No harm, no foul.

And as we drove home, I whispered to my son, “Thanks for picking us up. That was grandma’s purse swinging outside the train. Best not to tell grandpa.”

After the last time, I wasn’t so sure I could handle them anymore. So it was with great trepidation that I agreed again this Holiday season and accepted the gig. Things went off without a hitch. I did a good and safe job with everyone arriving home in one piece including their belongings.

It's sort of a "circle of life" thing. I hope I have a qualified baby-sitter when I'm their age.

The Deal-Breaker

"Reads. Employed. Hot."

Her “must haves" became more loosely defined the longer she online dated.

Soon she’d change employed to part-time, hot to reasonably fit.

Maybe her picture too?

Reads…

The deal-breaker. Definitely.

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Check out Trifecta Writing Challenge where this weekend’s rules were:

We want you to give it back to us (based on a poem) in your own words, using your own subject matter.  Describe something that is three different things at the same time.  Oh, and do it in 33 words.

Trifecta: The A-B-C's of You

Robert Frost once said, "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."  We want you to do the same.  Sum up anything you want, but do it in three words.  Your response should mirror Frost's quote by beginning, "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about--."  And the last four words are yours to choose.

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In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about YOU: Amusing. Bewitching. Confounding.

I AM. And I Feel....

Courtesy of Mama Kat's Writing Challenge and brought to you by me, here is my “I AM” poem using the template available over at her site. 

This was really fun to do, for me, since I am NOT even close to being poetic. As a matter of fact, there's not one poetic bone in my increasingly large body (my Italian mother has been feeding me for 8 days straight. I LOVE PASTA!). In my next life, I swear, I’m coming back world famous for all the poems I will write and publish!

I Am

I am passionate and gregarious; 


I wonder what my life will look like five years from now, I really do, because I know it will be much different than it is today; 


I hear the sound of my sweet Ellie's bell jingling around her neck and it's as if she never left us at all; 


I see hummingbirds and butterflies fluttering all around and they land on my outstretched arms; 


I desire the saucy and sassy romance story in my mind and at my fingertips to come to fruition and someday find it's way into someone's hands to read; 


I am passionate and gregarious.



I pretend to be a comedian and can really make "me" laugh but mostly at myself; 


I feel like I'm different everyday and different from everyone else; 


I touch hearts, really reach out and try, and that's my personal goal; 


I worry I haven't taught my children as much empathy or compassion as this world of ours needs; 


I cry because time is moving too fast, and I haven't finished all that I intend to do, and it won't slow down no matter how hard I wish it; 


I am passionate and gregarious

.

I understand that I'm responsible for my own happiness, and nothing is perfect or guaranteed, and that the simpler I live, the happier I am; 


I say live and let live without judgment. I plead! 


I dream of a life full of laughter and love ever after every day and every night; 


I try to smile at everyone who crosses my path even when it's difficult or I'm not feeling it; 


I hope to grow old with the people I have in my life right at this very minute and that every day we are able to make a memory together; 


I am passionate and gregarious.

I WILL NOT Be Out-Flirted: Dr. Handsome As Hell

(Dr. Doug Ross...Remember Him?)

I originally became associated with Dr. A-Hole upon arrival at the “big city” hospital in Fort Wayne, IN, after transferring from a small hospital unequipped to handle me. He was condescending with the worst bedside manners ever exhibited by a physician. Even though my pain level (I have a high tolerance) and my devastation regarding the situation may have affected my mood; the general consensus was…this guy’s a big jerk.

Without much choice, I let Dr. A-Hole shave parts of my head and drill 4 screws into my skull to stabilize my neck with a halo because that was the only decision he was prepared to make before he left for his big weekend off. He’d reevaluate my situation after his three-day vacation.

The next morning, a well-known orthopedic surgeon was due to visit for a second opinion, which is always wise to do. Dr. SO (Second Opinion), as a favor for a friend, agreed to see me at 6 a.m. before his usual rounds. How nice was that? And I was ready for him, looking and smelling awesome, I’m sure, in my new headdress and unshowered for three days!

Raise your hand if you’d be prepared for Dr. “Handsome As Hell” to walk through the ICU door, dressed in a fine fitting (custom, no doubt) suit and smiling a warm “hello” at 6:00 in the morning. He leaned against my bed taking my hand and looked me in the eyes, “How are you this morning? Did you rest well?” If my head and jaw weren’t essentially nailed into place, my chin would have been resting on my chest. All I could think was, "I look like S@#T" and I blushed (so unlike me!).

I guess he proceeded to outline, in great detail, all the steps he would take to fix me but all I could do was look at him. Oh and he was kind and charming, too.

The minute he walked out the door I simply said to my guy who liked him as well, “Fire the A-Hole. Dr. Hot Stuff (I used his real name) is doing my surgery”. I wouldn’t hire him only because he was good looking (I actually would have preferred the opposite). Yet, he did know his medicine!

Well, this meant more visits. He visited me on Friday late afternoon in jeans and a cool shirt (must have been going out). Yikes! And not fair to someone trapped in a bed, scummed out, with hardware and tubes sticking out all over the place.

It was just us. And he was flirting and smiling and joking, not looking or acting doctorly at all. It was the way he said things; he kept touching my feet and my hands but not in a creepy way, and sat on the edge of my bed. He stayed for 20 minutes chatting. (He must have been bored or had nothing else to do.)

I swear I wasn’t imagining it. Flirts know when someone’s working it. I flirted back a little because I was all drugged up and everything. But he had me here. He was all decked out and I looked like a truck hit me.

He came back again before surgery, all smiles and touches then afterwards to tell us the post surgical news and he held my hand when he talked (love his bedside manners). Sunday morning’s visit (by myself again) included casual slacks and crisp white shirt which I thought looked great. Doesn’t this guy ever wear a lab coat? Thank God I’d brushed my teeth and had a sponge bath so I wasn’t too offensive. Plus I was feeling much better. By this time, he felt more like a friend than anything. Very harmless flirtation ensued.

Well, today was my follow up appointment post surgery and my mom took me to the “city” this time. I actually showered, put on a little makeup and a sundress for my big outing. I felt and looked a whole lot better than two weeks before.

Seeing Dr. HAH (Handsome As Hell) today was like seeing an old friend. Got a hug, a few shoulder touches (or maybe he was just examining me ;-)) and a “Don't you look nice?” However, when we walked out, my mom said, “It seemed like you were flirting with each other.”

Maybe I hadn’t imagined the whole thing and maybe we were.

I’m still on pharmaceuticals, you know.


But really...who flirts with a girl with a broken neck? That's kind of strange.

The only thing McDreamy has on Doug Ross is his blue eyes. Not all the hot doctors are just on T.V.