Disappointment Dismount

I have two teen age daughters. There is drama. Lots of it from time to time. They say it is normal. I guess it is. People hurt and disappoint you no matter how old you are. In the last 6 weeks there has been more drama than Days of Our Life during ratings week. I have felt the pain my daughters have endured as they have been hurt and disappointed in these situations.

The biggest lesson I want them to learn is to let go, and forgive. I tell that it doesn’t mean you have to trust or put aside the lessons that come with it, just don’t play your anger, hurt and resentment over and over and over again in your head, and on your MySpace blog, and texting to your people. Then the problem becomes yours, and not the person who inflicted it. There is a time to dismount from the pain and resentment, a time to move on and let go of the recording of how “someone done you wrong.”

The best story I have shared with them I found on page 139 in Ecart Tolle’s book A New Earth. It is about two Zen monks who are walking along a country road that had become muddy after heavy rains. One monk stops to carry a woman across some muddy waters because she did not want to ruin her silk kimono. For five hours they wanted in silence and you get the impression that action really bothered the other monk. He asks “Why did you carry that girl across the road? We monks are not supposed to do things like that.” The response was profound. “I put the girl down hours ago, are you still carrying her?”

What a heavy burden of the past we can carry around in our minds.

Ever Fake a Dismount?

What are your head fakes? Mine? Ever fake book club? What I mean...you have every intention of reading the monthly assignment, but then reality hits. Work piles up, taking care of family, yah-di-yah-di-yah and you either have to confess a failure or dismount to faking the read to the other clubbers. I struggled with this moral dilema (initially) - faking it. I love to read, but don't always prioritize it like I should. I've found that people love to talk about what they have read. I became an active listener v.s. avid reader in the club. There's value in that. A role to play. I'm not waiting to talk, I'm really listening. I would harvest the learnings from one reader and pass them off to another through-out the evening. I was providing a needed service. (uh-huh) Our discussion format was more "man-to-man" v.s. Zone. Ripe for faking. It's like verbal "cliff notes," and there's not enough listening in the world, I convinced myself. My last formal book club and best supporting listener role, was a few years back. Over time I began noticing others were silently following my subtle alturistic listener lead. My standard - "oh really. How interesting. Tell me more" became everyone's new question. But if everyone is faking it and no one is fessing up...how do you know if anyone really read the book? That's when book club dismounts to wine club. Sound familiar....tell us your "chip" fakes?

Chip Aisle Denial or Confront the Bat?

Have you found yourself talking with a friend only to discover they have a "bat in the cave," or "green parsely jammed mid "grill" or stinky (stinky) sandal feet? What do you do? Succumb to denial or confront?

A while back I was 5 minutes into an hour long meeting with a friend. He had a "bat in the cave." After I finished my 5 minute bout of denial and thought "oh, must be oatmeal on his way upper lip from breakfast." Un-huh. I quickly moved from denial to can't take looking at it "flutter" anymore. So, I leaned over to him and gently said "gotta bat in the cave babe, might wanna slap and trap" He was most grateful. I started thinking about how many times I have been in similiar situations with other friends. Do I deny or confront? I concluded my standard approach is stage one denial OR I'll give the international repeat hand-to-nose brush signal until imprinting occurs and my "oatmealed" friend euthanizes the rogue rodent. Although, sadly, what usually happens more often that not is my friend, with tethered fluttering bat, will head off only to be whispered about by throngs of other desperate nose brushers. Guilt sets in. Know what I mean?

I have a solid track record in confronting the mossy-choppers and/or disheveled bed-head. For some reason, "ham sandy lodged mid-grill" or boldly telling my friend Steve "might wanna run a comb," all in bounds. However, the stinky sandaler continues to be my main denial nemisis. There's no subtle international "chips" to tip off the stinky sandaler.

Stories to share or advice in dismounting from denial to confrontation? For the sandaler, I figure we have till August...

The Political Dismount

Should I stay or should I go now?
Should I stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
An’ if I stay it will be double
So come on and let me know!

Should I Stay Or Should I Go By The Clash

Oh the song every politician must have in their head at one point in their career. The moment of truth. The road less travelled. Is this time for the dismount?

I have to say that I am impressed recently with the Hilary Clinton dismount. Handled with grace and dignity in the face of major disappointment, especially when you think you own the chip aisle.

On a far less dignified note, another politician who pleaded guilty to a “situation” in a Minneapolis airport. He announced the dismount with great conviction. He was ready to jump. And yet, he is still clinging on to the side of the political airplane with his parachute on. I guess he is waiting until the plane lands for the real dismount on safe ground.

Whatever!

The Final Dismount - A Tribute

There are simply some dismounts in life that you don’t want to face, you are not ready for, and they say with time become easier. I lost my father, Curt Gauss on April 22, 2008. His dismount was not expected, and even if it was, there is still is an open raw wound as Father’s Day approaches. As I reflect on his life, I choose remember the good things he taught me. Here are a few:

* My dad taught me to laugh and the value of humor. He had sense of humor that could make anyone roar. Often, when I called him, he would look at the caller ID, know it was me, and answer the phone “Hi Jan, how is my favorite daughter?” He could take it back when I would answer “Come on, tell me who our real dad is, open the adoption papers, now!”

* He taught me about undying loyalty. Over 300 people came to his funeral. There were many grown men who worked in construction with him crying.

* He taught me that life is hard work. He never missed work to slack off. He said it was his language of love for his family.

* He taught me the value of family. You stick with your people no matter what choices and mistakes they make.

* He taught me to love Idaho and the great outdoors. Every Friday we would camp out at his “secret spot” which today is known as Stanley Lake. This summer we plan on going there to scatter his remains, the final dismount from the chip aisle.

Curtis H. Gauss, beloved father, Sept. 2, 1938 – April 22, 2008

Fat Fingered "Chully" Chipping

Fat fingered cell phone texting. I, a recent victim...

Friday I'm in a sporatic "text volley" with a friend. We ended "advantage out" with my friend's response of the evening. He typed the word "chully." Just "chully"....I gave it a scrunched nose and a mimed "what the?" The "chully" text was in response to my son's change in back yard camping plans due to the weather and me moving camping indoors. "Chully." Hmmm...I was convinced I'd missed the latest pop culture memo (or rather txt). I always seem to be behind on that stuff. It bugged me enough to go "google it" the next morning. "Chully" was a no show in the Google Cloud. I even asked my mom, who knows the Latin root of every word. She was a strike two and Latinless. My friend is one with very broad brush vocab, so my thought was "ahhh...perhaps something from England or Ireland." Chully could be British...sounds British. So I went up to "the google plate" for one more time at "bat. " Aimed, left field at the Queens land and this time "base hit"...."Chully" came up (sort of) The only definition for "Chully" that exists....it's a girl's name and it means "smart." How nice of my friend to think I'm smart (smiling). Oh, but euphoria not to last.....I bounced a txt to him, painting my "chully" (smart) conclusions. After a while he bounced back saying "you are working it too hard. I fat fingered it and it should have said "chilly" in response to the weather" Are you kidding me? I'd been to England and back for a fat fingered chipping! The entire journey took less than 20 minutes (by chully), but still... :)

(side bar) My friend David and I were wondering how to use the word (noun) "flibbertigibbet" in a sentence the other day. It means a chattering or flighty, light-headed person. Think I've figured it out (meaning me). :)

Well on the bright side, I could start dropping "chullys" in casual conversation, text, etc - get ahead of the pop culture curve for once. Tell people in Idaho it's British for "smart girl," see where it goes......What are your fat fingered "chips?"

Lemon Drops or Dropped Lemons in the Chip Aisle?

I was having dinner with friends on Saturday in Boise's Hyde Park. Much laughter as always with this fun crew. My friend Suzi said she was watching Ron White, a comedian, on TV before she came to dinner. He said "When life hands you lemons find someone whose life has handed them vodka."....hmmm, making a lemon drop (I think) v.s. feeling like a dropped lemon. :)

I realize I'm over thinking the joke with my next statements, but it did remind me of a conversation I had several months ago with a friend. It was about making people happy, particularly in romantic relationships. My view is that it's not up the other person in a relationship to make the other person happy. You each bring your own "lemons" and "vodka" to a relationship, mix it up and split the "cab fare," there in lies the happiness (or the hang over). :)

What are your "chips" on the subject or maybe just a great drink/drink recipe recommend for summer....tell us.

Pocket Dismounts...

What's your end-of-day pocket dismount ritual? A friend of mine has 20 or so pens in a drinking glass on his bathroom counter. It has been there for months. Same spot. Every time I see the "pen collector-dispenser," makes me smile. :) I asked him about it a while back. He said he wears a suit and carries a pen in pocket, everyday. "Gotta put um' somewhere and better there than scattered about." Sound wisdom. I haven't spotted any in the glass with green florist tape or a sprouting flower - so all legit. :) It made me consider my own end-of-day pocket dismount rituals. What "chips" are on my counter? Lip spackle (aka chapstick) is my number one "pen." I have them everywhere, but in contrast to my ever ready dental floss, I can never find even one wax stick on demand. Especially at work, worst case, I'm two hours into my day, lips cracking like dried glue on pre-school art and me, lip goopless. I actually have an eight year standing handshake arrangement with a co-worker for ready access to the 3 or 4 chapsticks in her top desk drawer (thank you Lisa!). Barring visible fever blister, I have open invitation to use anytime.

hmmmm, my pen pal may be on to something....may need to consider "planting" drinking glasses around my house/work, fill um up with chapstick....and throw in a few pens...