In my last post, Failure to Launch, I vented my frustration with guys these days. I will do so again, as I continue to be frustrated.

My now 21-year-old daughter is being asked out on dates with OLD guys. I’m talking 15 years older. TOO OLD! Let’s just say they’re exactly between my daughter and I in age. RIDICULOUS!

Here’s what I see happening.

They live the playboy life all through their twenties, enjoying their freedom from commitment of any sort, as they avoid girlfriends, mortgage payments, and spend all their time and money entertaining themselves.

Then one day they wake up and find themselves in their mid-thirties, and for some reason decide it’s time to find someone to settle down with.

Here’s the problem: There are two categories of girls left to choose from; the (too) young ones, and the has-beens (those who are divorced, have kids, or aren’t as attractive as they want).

So, naturally, they go for the young ones.  Seems like easy prey, right?  Not necessarily. I mean, who wants to take care of an old man (who isn’t your father), when you still have lots of energy to enjoy life? Smart girls think this through.

AND

It’s just not OK with we parents to give our young and beautiful girls to someone who is that much older!

Hmmmm. Maybe guys should think this one through, while/IF they still have the chance.

It’s driving her, and her single girlfriends crazy.  These guys are between the ages of 23 and 30-something.  They don’t want girlfriends.  Because if they have one, she’ll eventually want to get married, and that means they would have to grow up and become responsible for not just themselves, but her as well. And they would have to move out of their parent’s house, pay their own bills, rent, insurance, and buy groceries. And that means they would have to work harder to earn more money that they could no longer spend for their own cars, toys, trips, and entertainment. And THAT would be MISERABLE!  Right?

So, I ask myself, who’s to blame here? Is it the lazy, selfish guys out there, or is it their enabling parents?

I personally, think the parents are to blame, for the most part.  These guys aren’t dumb. They have figured out a brilliant plan to “have it all”. They enjoy “NCMO” (Non Commital Making Out) with the girls, to satisfy that need, while they enjoy the party life on their parents’ dime.

Meanwhile, there are thousands of ambitious, beautiful, and intelligent girls out there, who would love to find their soul mate and get on with their lives, if they could only find a guy who is willing to give up the party life for something better.

A good part of this problem would be solved if parents would “cut the apron strings” and push these guys out of the “nest” unless they’re in school full time, working to pay for their education, and contributing to the household maintenance.

It really is a problem.

In epidemic proportions.

Having joined “the text generation” some years ago, and watching my kids grow up with it in their adolescent years and beyond, I have often wondered what the effects would be, compared to “life before text”.

Here are some of my observations:

It’s not nearly as frightening to approach those of the opposite sex, as it used to be. Back in my grandparent’s day, one had to speak face to face, if they wanted to get to know someone, or show interest in doing so. Imagine that! FACE TO FACE! Blushing skin,  shaking knees and all!

Later, with the invention and widespread use of telephones, it became a little easier. But one had to still try not to stammer, or sound the way they felt.

Then along came the internet, with it’s amazing capability to communicate via email. This took the whole process to yet another level. No risk of “looking” or “sounding” nervous or afraid. Just say it, and hope for the best. But somehow, with or without realizing it, message context could be changed, as it lacked “tone of voice”. Compliments could be misconstrued as sarcasm. Sincerity as a joke. Definitely a serious flaw in the system.

Today we have cell phones, capable of sending and receiving text messages at any time and in nearly any place. Convenient? Yes, for the most part. At least as far as delivering information is concerned. An effective form of interpersonal communication? NO! In fact, in my opinion it’s probably the WORST! Like email, it lacks the ability to deliver the most important part of the message: tone of voice, which, in turn, portrays feelings.

Along with the “help” of social networks, text messaging and email have taken all the “work” out of our social lives. We no longer need to approach others on a personal level, without first testing the “climate” though the sterile world of electronics. Want to know all about someone before taking the “risk” of approaching them? Go Cyber-Stalking. It’s as easy as that. No more “blind” dates, or need to ask questions to get to know someone. It’s all right there. Then, after checking out someone’s “credentials”, all it takes is a quick, impersonal text or email message to ask if they want to “hang out” (another completely impersonal and commitment free way to further test the water), with no risk whatsoever of divulging any feelings.

What is all this doing to us socially? Is it having any effects on our character? Does it affect our relationships? Our marriages? Our ability to truly communicate?  I would love to know what professionals have seen as a result of all of this.

One huge effect I have noticed is what it’s done to the younger generation’s spelling and grammar. All it takes is a quick visit to a social network of college age and younger kids to see that. I used to think it was funny, the crazy way kids spell things. Now I think it’s pathetic. Maybe I’m old fashioned, and yes, I do realize that predictive text can fill in unintended words that may not be caught before hitting the “enter” or “send” button, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the use of “then” for than, and the really mixed up use of “there”, “their”, they’re”, and similar words. And then there are the “invented” words. Those I’ve never heard or seen in the English language. Wow. I wonder how that will go over in the professional world?

This year has brought with it change, most for the better. My husband has been called to serve as bishop in our ward. It was a shock at first, but has been easier than I would have anticipated. We have felt the blessings of his service. He has had the opportunity to help numerous families in our neighborhood who are struggling. Doing so makes us all the more grateful for what we have. Our children have been very supportive of this change.

We celebrated our first Christmas without our extended family. It was difficult, but the change resulted in much less stress during the holiday season. Again, our children were strongly supportive, and we enjoyed this time together. They look forward to starting new traditions.

I have a few goals for this new year. I am going to exercise more, and try to lose 20 lbs. I am going to complete my studies of Photoshop, and start studying photography. I want to become a better and more knowledgeable photographer. My daughter is very good, having studied photography in school.  I want to complete my second son’s mission scrapbooks. I have so many resources at my disposal, I need to take advantage of them and get it done.

Welcome 2011!

One of my antique treadle sewing machines

I once heard that when something is 50 years old or older, it is then classified as “antique”.

According to that information, I am now an antique. I’m not so sure I like the sound of that. Although I am somewhat a collector of antiques, and enjoy studying them, having them in my home, and pondering about life during the time that they were made and used, I don’t particularly want to be one.

A Brass Candlestick phone (it still works!)

Mirriam-Webster’s definitions of antique are 1) : a relic or object of ancient times. 2) a : a work of art, piece of furniture, or decorative object made at an earlier period and according to various customs laws at least 100 years ago. b : a manufactured product  from an earlier period.

So according to Mirriam-Webster, I still have another 50 years (Sigh of relief), although I don’t object to being classified as “a work of art”.

Antique Butter Churn

Another positive way to look at it, is in realizing that the older some things are, the more valuable they become. I like to think I have become more valuable in my old age. At least in the area of knowledge and exprerience.

On the flip-side, my physical self is just not what it used to be. It’s getting old and worn and tired.  Not such a good thing. The older I get, the more I want to do, and the less energy I have to do it with.

Antique Potbelly Coal Burning Laundry Stove

 Oh, to be young again!…

I recently spent some time at our mountain home.  I love sitting on the front deck, watching the animals. They seem to be so tame and unafraid. For years we have fed the birds, the hummingbirds, and the squirrels. They have come to expect food to be available, if there are people around.  They actually beg, like a dog, to be fed. When the hummingbird feeder runs dry, they hover right in front of your face, as if to say “excuse me, but I need more juice”.
We have a gray squirrel, who frequently comes looking for food.

 There are also two chipmunks, who we call “Chip and Dale” after the Disney characters, who aren’t one bit afraid to climb up and sit in your lap or on your hand, to be fed. I was leaning against the deck rail, watching them. One of them came right up to me, sat about 6 inches from my arm, and looked me in the eye. I decided to ask what it wanted, expecting it to run off, at the sound of my voice. Instead, it just sat there and looked at me, as I sp0ke to it for over a minute, when my dog, thinking I was talking to her, came up and scared it off.  I wish I had it on video! How I love nature.

I have been working on a rather daunting task…sorting photos. I have 8 boxes, shoebox size, full of photos. And they’re not just thrown in, they’re stacked file style. Thats a lot of photos! I have been wanting/needing to get to them for years. Many of them were previously in an album but had to be removed from the destructive “magnetic” style pages before they were eaten with acid and age. I ultimately intend to get them into archive safe albums and scrapbook a few. I hope I live long enough to get it done.

Life is short. Sorting though all those years of photos has been a real wake-up call. Seeing my now adult kids when they were babies, and seeing the progression of time.

I ran across a picture of my dad on his 50th birthday. Wow. I will be 50 in just a few weeks. How can it be? How can time pass so quickly? At what point in life does one go from wishing the time away to wishing it would just slow down, even for a day? As a child, it seemed like Christmas came about every 5 years. Now it seems to come about every 6 months.

All this makes me look at my life and ask “Am I living each day to it’s fullest?”, “What can I do today, to make it more significant?” Sometimes it seems like life is an endless cycle of repeating the same thing over and over. What can I do to change that? It seems I’ve always said to myself “I can’t wait until”: the kids are older, the kids are grown, I am retired, etc. then I’ll have time to do the things I want to do.

 In the meantime, life is slipping away. I am getting older and have less energy than I used to. The time to do it is NOW!

I just need to figure out how.

I have had a strange  recurring dream throughout my life. I remember having it when I was very young. It is difficult to describe, but I will try to do so here.

I am at the top of a slope. A staircase, perhaps. I can hear a distinct rhythmic thumping sound, like a heartbeat, but louder. I am surrounded by a bright red light.  I am warm, although not uncomfortably so.  I begin to fall, head first, down the slope. As I do so, the thumping sound increases in volume, and slightly in tempo. I begin to feel squeezed, and have the sensation that I can’t get enough air. I begin to feel panic, as the suffocating sensation increases. I am submerged in water. I gasp for air, and, to my surprise, I can breathe underwater. I take another breath. It really is so. I can breathe water. Suddenly I wake up. It takes a while for the panic to go away, but I am awake. I wonder about the dream, and wonder why it seems so real, and why it recurs.

I am nearly 50 years old, and the older I get, the less often I have the dream. But I still have it, occasionally.

Years ago, after giving birth to my children, I had the dream and began to wonder, Is it a memory of my own birth, buried deep in my subconscious mind? It makes sense that it could be. All the sensations could be those associated with birth.  I guess I’ll always wonder.

I was reminded of this dream as I read another blog entry written by someone I’ve never met who describes a similar dream. I will contact that person and compare experiences.

I may never really know…

When I was very young, I got a rush out of the smell of a new box of crayons. Now, the smell of fresh paint does the same thing. Seeing and touching a beautiful piece of fabric makes my mouth water, as does looking at something beautiful that someone else has made. I want to do it all, and I’ve tried nearly everything. My experience tells me I’m more adept at dimensional arts. I have a difficult time with drawing and painting, but if it’s 3D, I can usually do it.

I have an unquenchable need to figure things out. I want to know how they work, and how they are put together. I want to know why they do what they do. If something breaks, I will attempt to fix it, even if it isn’t worth fixing, just so I can see how it works. I love to assemble things. My kids have been known to accuse me of buying things just so I can put it together. It probably started with Legos when I was a kid.

I got my first toy sewing machine when I was about 6 or 7. My grandmothers, bless their hearts, tried to teach me to knit and crochet at about the same age.

Each year at Christmas, Santa would bring me craft kits. I loved them. It gave me an opportunity to try all sorts of things. I started making doll clothes. For my Barbie! Idid embroidery kits. I had an endless amount of patience for such things. As I got older, I loved learning new crafts in Girl Scouts. When I entered Junior High school, I took sewing, and enjoyed it. In High school I took a silversmithing class. I loved to challenge myself to make things. I created a huge rainbow pillow for an art class in High School. It was made of satin stuffed tubes in all the colors, and was attached to a fluffy white cloud pillow, with a yellow lightening bolt on it. Got an ‘A’. That was just the beginning.

 In college, I took lots of textile classes, and interior design. Working with color makes me high. When I got my first home of my own, I made curtains and pillows, bedspreads and Christmas Stockings, a Tree skirt and ornaments. Then came the baby clothes. First two were boys. Didn’t take long to realize it’s a waste of time to sew for boys past a certain age, say, ’2′. At that point, they play so hard they ruin their clothes in a matter of minutes. So I started making dolls. And quilts. At this point, my husband told me it was a shame to be making such beautiful clothes for a doll, and that I should be sewing for a real little girl. So I started my quest to create a baby girl (I’ll save that story for another time). Well, I got her. And I frantically had to learn heirloom sewing and English smocking, which I had drooled over for so many years, but had no one to do it for. She was at least 4 months old when we blessed her, because it took that long to get the dress done. I was in sewing heaven for many years, as this real-live baby doll of mine grew. She had a new dress/outit for every occasion. Her birthday, the 4th of July, Halloween costumes, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Easter and First Day of Kindergarten. It was so much fun! We even had matching Christmas and Easter dresses a couple of years. Then, when she was about 7, I started plans and designs for her baptism dress. It is amazing! Took me months and over $200 worth of French lace, Irish linen, and carefully embroidered flowers to finish. It is my masterpiece to date. At about the same time, she got her American Girl Doll. At that point, everything I made for her, I made another for the doll. They have matching Pendleton Wool dress coats with matching muffs and hats, smocked and embellished with silk ribbon embroidery. I still have all the clothes and dresses I made for her and the doll.  I did them in classic designs, with adjustable hems so they can be worn by my granddaughters.

Needless to say, my daughter became a teenager, and, as with all teenagers, she became very particular in her choice of aparel. This was sad for me, in a way, although I knew that day would come.  Now I wait for grandchildren…

Next obsession that came along was scrapbooking. When my oldest son left on his mission, I needed some sort of therapy to help me survive the two long years without him. Digital Cameras were not allowed, So I bought him a new point-and-shoot cameral and a dozen rolls of film, and promised to send more when that ran out. He very obediently took pictures. Lots of them! And I was in scrapbook heaven. He would have them developed, write on the back of each one, and send them home. Best Christmas, Mother’s Day, Birthday gifts I ever received! He arrived home to find twelve 3 inch binders full of his mission memories. He treasures every one.

I have lost some of my scrapbooking “steam”, and my second son, home from his mission 3 years now, is still waiting for his scrapbooks to be completed! They will get done, I promise! In the past several years, I have learned Beading and Jewelry making, Polymer Clay sculpting, crocheting more than just scarves, knitting with a loom, and just recently with needles, tatting, and some creative cake and candy making. I bought a computer driven plotter, and love to create with paper and vinyl. I am learning Photoshop, and got a new laptop computer for Christmas this year, and have been determined to master it and all its functions. Lastly, I am learning more about the art of blogging. I have realized this too, is a wonderful creative outlet. It is my intention, going forward, to incorporate more of my tangible crafts in my blog. 

We’ll see how it goes…

She is extraordinarily beautiful. And not just in my opinion.

Having broken up with her last boyfriend, she has been on the dating market for a little over 8 weeks now. In that short time, she has dated over 15 different guys, many of them more than once. This activity has included up to three in a single day. Wow.

Watching this has been more than a little amusing for me, as an onlooker.

She is having LOTS of FUN!

The boys, not so much. She’s driving them CRAZY!

They can never get a ‘yes’ on the first attempt to take her out. She’s always already ‘booked’. They are realizing that they must ask well in advance, if they expect to get an affirmative response.

The ‘asking’ part has been amusing to watch. If they’re new, they start with “What are you doing tonight?”

Response:

“I have a date”.

Reply:

“Of course”.

Then,:

“You’re a dating machine”-Matt

or

“Yeah, I saw you on the cover of Most Wanted Women”-Mark

or

“How far in advance to I need to ask you to pencil me in?”-Matt

See what I mean by ‘amusing’?

She’s gets irritated at the exasperation of these young men, and her girlfriends’ comments, over how many dates she gets. Last week one of her girlfriends asked me: “of the 200 guys Emily is going out with, which one do you like best?”

The answer to that is difficult. In the past, I have allowed myself to get overly attached to her boyfriends, causing myself as much heartbreak as she goes though, when the relationship ends. I have sworn to myself to not let that happen again, until there’s a ring on her finger, and even then, there’s a certain degree of risk.

However, as a mother, I find myself thinking: “Are you ‘the one’?” as I meet each of these young men. It reminds me of the little bird in a favorite childhood story;  Are You My Mother?

When my boys were dating and their future wives came along, somehow I just knew. This time it’s very different. I know I can’t pick my children’s eternal mates, nor would I want to. There are some who I think could be possibilities, but I don’t dare even go there.

For now, I just enjoy the entertainment…