How Did You Get My Number?

What I hate most about telemarketing calls is that for me to get off the phone, I have to be rude. I really hate being rude. Today I got 2 calls from the same guy.

It was an offer to help us with our credit card debt. I really wasn't interested, but when I stated that, the soft-spoken Indian man on the phone said I didn't have to make a decision right then. Ok, so I allowed him to speak . . . and speak . . . and speak . . . and make assumptions about how easy or difficult it was to make our payments each month. And lied about our indebtedness. He was polite and so earnest. It seemed rude to hang up on him.

But I didn't want to tell him anything about us. I knew I was never going to use the services of a company that calls me out of the blue. I may be in debt, but I'm not a dummy!

I was then transferred over to someone else, who I also did not want to talk with. These guys have already taken up too much of my time. So when the second guy came on and sounded like a bad American used car salesman, I didn't let him say more than 2 sentences when I said, "I am not interested. I didn't want to be rude to the other guy. However, I am going to be rude to you. Goodbye." And I hung up.

The phone rang a moment later. It was the Indian man asking what was I doing? I told him I was not interested. He argued. I told him I had not wanted to be rude to him. He kept arguing. I screeched, "I am not interested." And then I hung up a second time.

I feel so much better getting that off my chest.

Now what is the number to remove our phone from the telemarketer's lists?

My parents joined facebook.com

My daughter loves Facebook. It is a lifeline to her. She has specifically asked me NOT to join Facebook! And I'm really glad!

Now, I'm not against parents checking out their kids' Facebook pages. For some, this is the most responsible thing to do and I applaud that. Any tool to take care of your kids and keep them safe is wonderful! But my girl is 22, a senior in college and she calls me whenever something bothers her. I don't need to see her Facebook page. She's earned her privacy. Just like I haven't told my family about this blog. I like the privacy too.

What triggered this was a program on NPR about a 40-something woman who had set up her mom's Facebook account and then was agonizing because she really didn't want to allow her mom to friend her. She definitely didn't want her dad to either and she was feeling enormous guilt about the whole thing. The program mentioned a website dealing with this very issue! Oh Crap . . .

It was the mom who spends so much time viewing her son's page she feels like a stalker, that reminded me how glad I am not to be on Facebook. This mom knew she was being obsessive, but couldn't help herself. I heard her and thought I would be just as obsessive about my daughter's life and her friends' lives. My daughter would be mortified if I tried to friend them! They might be too, for that matter!

I think I'm going to send an email to my girl telling her how glad I am not to be on Facebook. I won't tell her its because I would spend all my time checking up on her. That's best left unsaid. She'll think it's weird, but then anytime I'm too self-analytical she thinks its weird. Hmmm d'ya think she thinks I'm weird all the time? Maybe she doesn't think about me enough to do so? I hope!

Aha

I love discovering new things about myself. You'd think, having lived with my self lo these many years, I would know me. And I do . . . and yet . . .

Perhaps it's a little like being in a long-term relationship and discovering a new thing about your partner. Or learning something new about your kids. . .

But back to my "aha."

I am working on opening a new business. The current stage is completely solo. I work in the space, getting it ready by myself. I have put a few feelers out for help, but no takers, so it's all up to me. This is fine, I know how I want to do things and I like my own company. Usually I take a lunch break and go out to a place that is close and cheap, but I have been worried that it was a financial luxury I ought not to do.

Yesterday I stayed home and worked all day. I must admit I got a whole lot accomplished. But at the end of the day I felt rather isolated, and unappreciated. I read a response to a comment on Vanessa's blog, which made me feel really good, and it hit me. The difference yesterday was the human contact I missed at lunch.

Since I go to lunch there most days, the workers know me. They smile. Actually, some of them light up when they see me. They ask about my kids, tell me about theirs. I'm not sure you could call it friendship. I only know their names because they wear badges. If they know mine its cuz sometimes I use my debit card. Whatever it is, it matters.

The funny thing is that once I get my food, I sit in a back corner with my nose in a book. I don't talk to anyone else, I read.

But just the act of getting in my car, driving to lunch, walking in and ordering makes all the difference in my day. It is the human contact we all need. That feeling of being seen and "gotten" and also seeing and getting others.

The other nice thing about this revelation is I no longer feel guilty going out to lunch. It's not a frivolous waste of money, it's just a way to stay connected to the world.

I wish you could see the smile on my face! It's nice to learn something new about myself!

A Silly Rant

When did people start calling California "Cali?"

And why?

I have never in my life heard any one who lives there call it that. My extended family has lived there lots of years, they don't call it that! The kids I went to school with don't either. But recently I have noticed a whole bunch of folks in the blogosphere calling it Cali.

Don't ask me why it bugs me, but it does! aarrgghh!

So if you are visiting, say you're going to California. And if you have to abbreviate, use the postal codes of CA or Calif. But don't call it Cali. It kinda makes you sound like you haven't got a clue.

I hope I don't get a lot of angry mail.

why i love blogging

Somewhere else in the blogsphere, in the pretty, pink section, there is a party going on entitled "Why I love blogging." I'm not participating officially, but unofficially, I wanted to weigh in. I started out in the pretty, pink section and love the creativity there. And then I found I wanted to have this voice, this real comment on my life, which isn't always so pretty or pink and I came here. I don't think this will turn into a segment to be recorded for the NPR program, This I Believe, but I've only started to write, so who knows!

A virtual friend posted about how no one wants the real answer to "How are you?" Actually I do want it . . . I don't listen very well to a litany of physical aches & pains, and I don't talk about my own either. But the other answers, the real ones about how your kids are really doing, or how crazy your life is or how you just did this amazing thing and you have to brag. . . well those are the things I do want to hear.

There's a certain "let it all hang out," 60's honesty that appeals to me. It seems blogs encourage this. Maybe it's self-indulgent. But then the 60's had a serious self-indulgent component along with peace, love, equality and the women's movement. There's a lot my generation has to answer for and a lot of good we can be proud of. Something about a weblog allows, encourages, forces one to share things. And I love it.

I see humor and irony in all sorts of odd things and circumstances. In real life try noticing someone's kid do something funny and kidlike, in say TJ Maxx, like crawl on the floor near your stall in the woman's bathroom. Remark on it to the mom, even sharing that you find it funny and you get the feeling the mom would be happier if you had just stayed quietly in your stall til they left!

In the blogosphere, commenting on a kid crawling on the floor in the ladies room is required. The funnier your telling, the better. See the irony in it, the humor, the relief it's not your kid or oh my it is my kid and what if he or she turns into a peeping tom. Here no one rolls their eyes or wishes you had stayed quietly in your stall! This is a community I really enjoy belonging to! It's a place I get to read stories, tell stories, see pretty pictures and make friends, even if I never actually meet them. There's feedback and love and a real pay-it-forward attitude.

And here I get into the "this I believe" part, I think people are basically good. And over and over I see that -- in really supportive, super supportive comments on posts where life is not as nice as the author wants, from people who may or may not have ever met said author! Or someone will compliment a stranger on her artwork and photos. Or friends are made by participating in art swaps where the generosity of the items sent is amazing and way over what anyone was expected to give. Both in the comments and the posts, this goodness and generosity comes out. I like being part of that. That's why I love blogging.

Oh and its a great place to hone one's writing ability!

Volunteering

Sometimes you volunteer to do stuff and you just get overwhelmed. And then sometimes you volunteer and get given a gift you never could have expected. That is how my week has been.

I have done a LOT of volunteering in my life! Right now, with my church, I am in volunteer burn-out. I do a lot and I thought it was ok. But today as I was making a sign for a talk we are giving, it hit me -- I am doing way too much for them.

Years ago I did the est training and volunteered with them for a while. One of their rules was you had to get more out of volunteering than you put in. I love that philosophy. How useful is a volunteer who resents it? Who wants to be a volunteer who is resentful?

So, when a friend was going out of town this week and asked me to look in on a relative of hers, I said yes. On the one hand it's my usual of always saying yes. On the other, she's my friend. She needed my help. And she would do the same for me.

As I was helping her relative with breakfast, we talked. I told stories of my life and she told stories of hers. I even asked her if she minded my stories. My daughter thinks I tell too many stories and I had been thinking of my daughter as we talked.

Instead of minding the stories, she said the most profound thing. She said, "Your stories are like melodies. You like telling them and hearing them again because the stories, like melodies are pretty and have appeal." I have never thought of my stories as songs or melodies.

And unlike my daughter's attitude that telling stories more than once is just wrong, my friend's relative had another take. It is that hearing or telling a story once makes it complete. But like a pretty song, telling it or hearing it again gives one the experience of when you heard it for the first time. Which obviously is good or you wouldn't repeat it!

And just writing it here takes me back a few days to the sunny dining room and feeling completely gotten and appreciated. It cancels out the feeling of burn-out I had when I sat down to post. It's a wonderful story to tell and I will probably tell it again. Just not to my daughter!