Range of Motion

I wear filters in most of my relationships. I believe we all do. I have the daughter filter, the granddaughter filter, the neighbor filter, the political filter, the religious filter, the professional filter, and too many more to list. Each filter category has settings ranging from low-flow to high-flow. My settings vary based on several variables.

Does this mean I'm phony? Maybe a little. But, I view it as respectfully navigating social waters, while protecting myself from the sting of social rejection.

I was describing a relationship to a friend yesterday [one of the few friends with whom I wear no filters], and I was listing a couple of filters I wear with someone. I clarified that as I've gotten older and more comfortable in my own skin, the filters were looser than they used to be but still necessary.

I've been thinking about friendships and relationships lately. Who I feel accepted by, and who I accept fully. I'm recognizing that I can evaluate the depth of a friendship by the amount of room we give each other to be human beings.

There are people in my life who I afford more life flexibility than I afford myself. There are others for whom I've created boundaries, and I'm not comfortable when they cross or leave those boundaries. My parents, for example - not a friendship, but a significant relationship - have a defined space and list of acceptble behaviors in my mind. The space and behavior list continues to grow and broaden the older I get. Ironically, I expect them to be more generous with their acceptance and support of my choices. It's primal.

The conversation I had with my filter-free-friend yesterday resulted in clarity that's difficult to articulate. My friend commented, "... if your range of motion is that limited with [a person], is the friendship really that important to you?"

The people who allow you a full range of motion are gifts. I can think of three in my life. How many do you have?

Let's Dance, Baby

The boys had their final Cotillion party a couple of weeks ago. Overall, they both enjoyed the Cotillion experience, but neither boy wanted to attend the last dance. It was a school night, they were tired, and over it.

Being the good parents that we are, we made them go.

Oldest Boy enjoys the dancing more than Middle Boy. He smiles and makes light conversation with his partner, like he was taught in Cotillion. Middle Boy's expression is solemn, he avoids eye contact and discussion with his partner and he moves like he's counting the seconds until the experience is over. I felt sorry for his partners. The little girls love the dancing and there are always more girls than boys. A polite boy's participation is a treasure to these girls.

Here's Middle Boy in agony on the dance floor, mad that I'm taking his picture.
[Click to enlarge all photos.]

Here's Middle Boy after I whispered in his ear through clenched teeth [resisting the urge to smack him on the side of the head] to, Be nice, smile, and fake it!

After the kids danced the parents were invited to join.  We were taught dance steps by the instructor, then our child was supposed to graciously assist.  Middle Boy didn't even enjoy dancing with me.

Here we are wrestling on the dance floor.

Here I am reminding him to, Try to have a good time.  I'll pay you if you smile.

 

Oldest Boy is a parent pleaser.  He genuinely wants to do the right thing and he's delighted when he catches an approving glance.  We recognize this won't likely last forever.  Oldest boy is either dancing with bells on because he thinks it pleases us, or... he was born to dance!

Look at the joy on his face...

I was a parent pleaser and I enjoy dancing, so Oldest Boy comes by it naturally.  Middle Boy takes a little more after his father.  Notice where Chris is sitting in this picture...

Chris was a good sport to attend the Cotillion party.  Many fathers were unfortunately not willing unable to participate.  Chris was a great photographer, but when I had the camera, he sat in the back row, near the door and he didn't dance.  Not even once.  If I give him a few drinks and make some promises... then he'll dance.

Minutia

"Blogging has become so popular that all meaning has been lost. People call themselves 'writers,' and ramble on about nothing, as if the minutia of their lives are as important as the big issues of the day, the tragedies that confront us all.

Which brings me to my story of the shower curtain." - Neil Kramer

This was how Neil from Citizen of the Month started a recent post. I love it. Neil continues the post and tells a story about something as simple as replacing a moldy shower curtain. It's entertaining and funny. Neil's a real writer though. He can write well about anything and it makes the rest of us look like we're writing a sixth grade essay. [Although I don't believe it's his intention to make anyone feel inferior. He's supportive of the individuality of bloggers. He's the "Citizen of the Month"!]

I struggle with how much minutia to include in blogging. Blogs that are well written interest me and like Neil's, I'll read a variety of content by a blogger who's writing style I admire. If I haven't been hooked by a blogger in some way [the writing, the photographs, the recipes, a personal friend who I love regardless of what they publish], and the blog is purely a ramble of daily events, with too-frequent postings, I lose interest. It's like listening to someone whine at length on the phone, and you tap your receiver to make it sound like your other line is beeping — Sorry. I don't mean to be rude but that's my other line and I really need to take it. Catch ya later!

This brings me to my story of the cleanse. [I understand if your phone's ringing, or there's someone at your door. Go handle it.]

Chris and I have been struggling with cravings for foods that aren't good for us [more than we typically do]. We've also wanted to lose a few pounds that are hanging on like baby opossums. We know the benefits of eating more fruits, vegetables and whole grains - organic whenever possible. We've read John Robbins Diet for a New America and May All Be Fed, as well as many other books encouraging vegetarian and earth friendly food choices. We still grab handfuls of cinnamon bears, chug coffee, and troll the pantry for refined snacks.

We started The Master Cleanse yesterday. We'll be ending it today.  You're supposed to do it for 10 days or longer. The basic theory of a cleanse is that a person takes great care in cleansing the outside of the body, but rarely if ever cleans the inside of the body, therefore an internal cleanse is a good thing. [So "they" say.] This cleanse involves drinking a lemonade made with purified water, lemons, maple syrup and cayenne pepper—I'm sure many of you have heard of it.

A part of any cleanse is eliminating. "They" say we shouldn't  stir up the dust [toxins] then let it settle somewhere else. It should leave the body.

Yesterday morning and this morning Chris and I did the "salt water flush" portion of The Master Cleanse. We followed the instructions and dissolved two teaspoons of sea salt in a quart of warm, purified water, and drank it. "They" say this will thoroughly cleanse the digestive tract. "We" say, buy the best toilet paper you can afford if you ever choose to do this.

The jury's still out on the effectiveness of our cleanse project. We have both sufficiently eliminated. I'm hungry, but I must admit I'm craving a bowl of steamed vegetables, and beans sound good. I thought I'd want a cheeseburger and a beer. I was tired yesterday and today my energy level feels normal. I'm leaving to run errands soon.

I took a photo of Chris with his laptop and his lemonade this morning. He was in his pajamas and had a healthy, post-elimination glow. He doesn't want me to share it. Too much minutia, he says.