Winning and Losing

I need to develop a relationship with winning and losing.

I am on a pickle ball team where we track our performance. I haven't played an organized team sport since eighth grade when I was in Cardinal Booster soccer. It was horrible and I was unskilled, but I did it anyway. Pickleball is way more fun, but I haven't had to track winning and losing since middle school.

I am not sure what to do when I lose or when I win. I feel like I am holding the team back, letting them down when my duo loses a game. You might be thinking, "Lauren, this is doubles. You aren't the only one responsible for the win or the loss." 

True, and I still feel personally responsible. I feel glum and irritated when I lose, and I wish I didn't. It makes me feel like a sore loser when I am not. There are professional athletes whose teams lose regularly and I bet they aren't as mopey as me. They have figured out how to cope with losing. Even the Chicago Bulls lost ten games in their best season.

I wish I could focus more on having fun and how much I have improved since I started. When I started, my serves barely made it in bounds. I practice my serve and overhand shots at my health club once a week. Now, my serves are 90% in bounds and I can play closer to the net when I don't chicken out.

Pilates Video Model

I would make a magnificent Pilates video model. Wonderful. Superb. 

I kind of suck at Pilates and my instructor is regularly correcting my form. I'm curvy, not a stick figure like all of the women in my Pilates book. I am built like Barbie doll that someone squashed down from 6'10'' to 5'4'', keeping the boobs and the booty the same. I say fuck a lot when a move is challenging. I grit my face and look like I am passing a kidney stone at 90 of the 100.

These are all reasons why I would make a unique and special Pilates video model. 

I can hear what you are thinking, "Wouldn't we want someone who looks good and knows what they are doing?"

No. You do not.

I tried doing the New York City Ballet workouts on YouTube once. I didn't even get through five minutes because the people were way fitter than me and I couldn't keep up. I honestly don't think anyone could keep up outside of people younger than 23 and professional athletes. Think about it: the people demonstrating the moves are the most fit, coordinated, and graceful people on the world. The people watching at home are not.

I would be like the people at home--moderately coordinated, curvy, soft, and realistic. These exercises are hard to do, both in form and intensity. People could watch how to do it wrong first, and then see how to adjust to do it correctly. They would see me sweat and swear. I roll my eyes at my teacher.

Plus it would be funny. People could watch me exercise while sitting on their couch eating a bag of potato chips. I might inspire these couch potatoes to try to exercise. They could think, "If that chick could do it, so can I."

Ex-orcism

I think I need an exorcism from my ex--an ex-orcism.

(My god, I can't believe I am the first person to think of that pun. If I am, I should get it trademarked.)

I want him removed from my mind, my heart and my soul, ala Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but like it sticks. As the NYT said about the film:

They say the only cure for heartbreak is time, although a lobotomy might be more effective. 

I don't want a lobotomy, but I want to be cured of him, to have him removed, erased. I want to MOVE ON. A friend said I don't really want to be with Jack anymore, but I miss being married, I miss having a companion. That might be true, until it isn't.

I was with Jack for so long, we have a shared history. I want to tell him my most favorite dancer at the PNB is retiring. Jack and I watched James Moore for years grace the stage at McCaw Hall. (Some people know the starting line-up of the Mariners or the Seahawks. I know the dancers at the PNB.) James was my favorite Romeo. Jack would understand what James means to me, how I think I saw James riding his bike downtown during the pandemic because I recognized his legs. Mere mortals don't have legs like his.

Jack and I met in college, and the Wildcats made it to the NCAA tournament. If I had to bet dollars to donuts, I'd bet he's going to the game of our alma mater with his girlfriend, the one who ambushed me in my former home when Jack told me to stop by and get my mail. I didn't know he had a girlfriend, let alone that he had one for 502 days and introduced to my children five minutes after he met her and before we were divorced. His checklist was 1. Hire a lawyer  2. Get a girlfriend 

See? I want this self-centered, spineless coward* and his girlfriend out of my mind! Am I bitter? Yes, and I wish to god I wasn't. He isn't worth the space and my sanity. He is out there living his globe-trotting, marathon running "best life," and I am sitting here pissed off.

Ergo, I want an ex-orcism.

I want a priest or some such holy spiritual person to eradicate this ex from me. I want to be free. I want to be free. I wish there was some magical way I could let go and be free.

To be fair, I have never in my life really have experienced such heartbreak before, so I don't know why I am being so hard on myself for feeling all the feelings, including the ugly and angry ones.

This is hard.

This is probably harder to me than him, because he escaped the pain by immediately jumping into a new relationship. I decided to take care of myself, discover who I am again, discover what I want, what I like. I am trying to be whole.

I should go back to the quote from the NYT: They say the only cure for heartbreak is time...

* There is a bunch of other shit my ex has recently done that I won't publish. That is the other thing about an ex: they are still alive and floating in the world. I have friends whose spouses have died, which of course is tragic. Unlike an ex, their spouses stop being jerks once they are dead. They can only be jerks in the past, not the present.

Pickleball

Why do recall

the shots 

I've missed

and 

not

the shots

I've made?

Why is it

that now I am 

a better player,

that I feel 

worse about

how

I play?

Before, 

when I sucked,

I was happy

to get

my serve

in bounds.

Now, 

I die inside a little 

when I miss.

Oppenheimer and Best Oscar

Here are my thoughts on Oppenheimer winning the Best Oscar.

Really? 

It is the ultimate, highbrow movie about blowing shit up. It is like they took the plot of an action-hero movie and put it in a tweed jacket. Sure, all of the characters had PhDs in physics and chemistry, but is this really different than a Marvel flick that is chock full of explosions where the good guys are trying to save the world from destruction from the evil guys?

Nope.

You can tell from this that the Academy voters are a bunch of boys men dudes.

I will say I loved Robert Downey, Jr. in the movie. He was a terrific villain, trying to take down the super hero in a snarky, mean girls kind of way. 

Scrooge McDuck, $50K and Ada J

One day a few weeks ago, I was stressed. I talking to a friend and I said I was going to relax by balancing my checkbook. She laughed and said she imagined me sitting like Scrooge McDuck, counting my money. 

I had to laugh because it is true. I don't I love money for money's sake like Scrooge, but I firmly believe in being a responsible steward. As my Uncle Bob said when I graduated from college, "Money doesn't come with instructions." I took the hint to learn about managing money, checking out dozens of books from the library on investing, and figuring out what made the most sense. Years and years ago when I was married to Jack, I asked him what he liked best about me. "Your ability to manage money."

I was like, "No, seriously. I am thinking something like kindness. Throw me a bone. This isn't a trick question."

He doubled-down. "I am serious," he said. "You are really good at managing money. You figured out how we could buy a house."

Emotional intelligence is not the poor guy's strong suit. Nevertheless, he had a point. I am good at managing money. I've helped more than one friend figure out their household budget and review their finances during their divorces.  Maybe I'll keep the McDuck and drop the Scrooge.

Recently, an acquaintance and I were having a conversation when they asked me how I invested. Of course, I was excited to tell them all about the brilliance of dollar-cost averaging. They listened for a minute, told me the stock market was crap and offered me the "opportunity" to invest $50K in their house flipping business. Totally safe, 8% interest.

"Huh," I said. In my recent years of therapy, I have learned how to diminish my reactivity with curiosity. For example, instead of saying "What the fuck?!? Are you kidding?", I thoughtfully paused, curious.

This pause was mistaken as interest.

"Or you can invest $100k," they continued. "Lots of women do this with their retirement money." 

"Huh," I said again. "I've got to run. Thanks!"

I don't recall Benjamin Graham, Jane Bryant Quinn or my personal favorite, Andrew Tobias, recommending investing Ponzi or pyramid schemes as a way to get rich. 

(To be fair: I talked to my dad about this request for funds. He is a retired accountant who has detected white collar crime and fraud. My dad thinks this person asking me for money isn't a criminal mastermind, but rather someone to got caught up in someone else's scheme.)

After two days of thinking, "What the fuck was that about?" I started to think of something else: What would I do with a sizable chunk of money?

After my divorce, I did some major nesting with new furniture and some art work, plus lots of travel and time with family. What's next?

Sunday, I was at the Pacific Coast Co-op (PCC) grocery store, a bougie, organic place where I spent $400 on organic laundry soap, Cod Liver Oil (so I can live to be 101 like Eleanor Owen), and bamboo toilet paper from Canada, among other things.

When I got home, I freaked out about the crazy amount of money I spent on whatever and whatnot. I just bought a fancy e-bike, which is awesome and cool and will help me to get exercise and fresh air. Nevertheless, I was plagued: Why am I living such an indulgent life? I can justify and rationalize this all until I am purple, but I kept coming to the same question: What is wrong with me? 

After my firstborn child died, I wanted to set up a scholarship in her name. This week, I've talked to my dad about it, and I've talked to a friend to make sure I wasn't crazy or being rash. I am thinking to start with $5,000 for tuition for a school year, plus an extra stipend for books and expenses, coming up to around $6,200 a school year. I'd pay the university or college directly for the student. All told, the monthly cost is slightly more than what I spent at the grocery store this weekend.

My new bike is fun, and I love my PCC organic turmeric gummies which reduce inflammation in my joints. These are good additions to my life, but a scholarship could potentially be life changing.

When I suggested the scholarship idea to my dad, he didn't hesitate with his endorsement. My friend gave me some suggestions for guard rails, and I am taking her recommendations.

Here goes, Ada J. Let's see what happens.

We are All Gonna Die! Or, Ignorance is Bliss

Kathryn Schulz has made a career of writing about potential disasters for The New Yorker. This week, she published "Starburst" with the subheader: "The next big solar storm could devastate our power grid and communication systems. Are we prepared?"

You guess the answer.

Hint: If the answer were yes, would there be a seven page article about it?

The general idea is that a major solar storm with a level G-5 or greater could first wipe out satellites and then would hit the earth and wipe out the power grid. I don't understand enough physics to fully understand all of this, but my understanding is that a large solar storm would disrupt the earth's electromagnetic field and cause an electrical pulse to bounce through the earth. This current could be absorbed but the ocean and bedrock, but it could also melt our electrical power grid across the U.S.

You can read the article. I've read it twice and nothing has scared me more. Not the pandemic. Not the threat of a major earthquake. The only thing that could be worse potentially would be a massive nuclear war. 

Friday night before I was going to sleep, instead of counting sheep, I thought of the progression of disaster if an epic solar storm hit the earth and wiped out communications and all electric power in the U.S.. 

We would all die.

Our reliance on electricity and wireless communication has developed since the last major solar storm in 1867. In the late 1980's, there was small solar storm in Canada, but those resulting problems were not widespread. There is a 12% chance that a big solar storm could hit the US in the next ten years.

Experts say it would take a decade to rebuilt. The problem with this type of disaster, it would also the tools of recovery. For example, no one could call 911 because phones might not work if satellites are down.

As I was falling asleep Friday night, I started to think about what would happen. I am in IT DR, and part of my job is to predict disasters and what would happen

Here are my guesses:

• With no power, everyone on life support in a hospital--from babies in the NICU to elderly people recovery from surgeries--would die. Hospitals have generators, but not ones that would generate power for years. 
• The next group who would die would be people who are reliant on special medications. The drugs couldn't be built because factories wouldn't have electricity to run machines.
• Transportation would be out. Cars need gas, and gas needs to be pumped. Most modern pumps have electrical components, so could we get gasoline? Maybe there is a work around for this? I don't know. Electric cars would be out, for sure.
• Refrigeration would be out, as would heat and AC. Gas heaters usually have thermostats that run on electricity.
• Banking would be out as modern banks are computer databases. There is no Bob Cratchit in the back room keeping the ledgers.
• Some farms (wheat, corn, soybeans) use combines and harvest to reap the crops, and those machines need gasoline. Our ability to plant and grow basics foods would be gone.
• There would be no internet, newspapers, magazines. We wouldn't know what happened.
• Would the solar storms physically damage the workings of an airplane? Would planes drop out of the sky, or would they be able to land safely? 
• Would we still be able to use radio communication? Radio waves would still exist, but would we have power for transmitters and receivers?

Other consequences:

• Imagine you are traveling when this happens. Would you get home?
• What about connecting with family in other states or parts of the world? Would I ever see my kids or dad again?

I can't imagine the rest of the world order, or lack thereof. I know countless movies and books have been created about the end of the world, the Thunderdome, and the Zombie apocalypse. Those books aren't my jelly or jam.

This though exercise, needless to say, was a big downer. Would I be better off not knowing? Ignorance may be bliss, but it doesn't help solve problems. Yet, I am one person who doesn't work with power grids. What can I do?

After this thought exercise, I went to the store and bought a salad for dinner. I was so grateful that I could walk into a well lit, heated place with fresh food. I was grateful to see the staff, grateful for my credit card as I tapped the reader. What if all of this wasn't here? But for today, it was.

Now, I am typically not this dark. I generally consider myself an optimist, with a healthy dose of realism, but this was bringing me down. I went home, and turned on Spotify. I listened to Beyonce's new song "Texas Hold'em" about fifty times. Music therapy from Queen Bey and gratitude seemed to bring me back to the present.

The Head, the Heart and the Pussy

I am still here, "single as a Pringle" as my daughter has said.

What am I looking for in a partner? What does this search entail? I am not so much looking for "The One," but rather someone my head, my heart and my pussy can all agree, which is easier said than done. Think of this like aligning chakras, but three instead of seven.

What does the head want? So many things. She is the pickiest of the bunch. She wants someone who is curious about the world, from reading books, knowing what is going on in the world, traveling, has hobbies, whatever. Curiosity doesn't mean busybody. They can be quiet and still and still be curious. She wants someone I can spend ten hours on a train with and get along and have a decent conversation. She wants a guy who is financially responsible. She has to be careful not to let her ego get in the way, and pick a guy because he has a cool car, but seriously, a cool car is a plus.

The pussy wants someone who is fuckable. Hot, reasonably fit*, smells nice, not a douchebag. She is pretty simple, basic animal attraction in play here.

The heart, she is the most tender, the most vulnerable. She often takes a backseat while the pussy and the brain are duking in out. Her voice is the softest, the quietest, and is often heard last. She has to rise above the clatter of her other two sisters. She wants someone who is kind, compassionate and caring.

* Fit can vary. My ex was a Division I swimmer when I met him, but I can't compare a college athlete to a middle aged guy with a desk job.

The Gauntlet & I Can Buy my Own Flowers (Jigsaw Puzzles and Office Supplies are More Like It)

I survived.

This morning, I woke up with a grateful sense of ease. Finally, I can see and feel the light at the end of the tunnel.

The horrible stretch of holidays, my former anniversary, my ex's birthday and Valentine's Day are over. 

Thank god.

The past several months have been hard, probably the hardest I've had since the divorce. Once I got back from Brazil, Christmas and New Year's happened, with the kids dividing their time between Jack and I. January marks the anniversary of our wedding, followed shortly by Jack's birthday and then Valentine's Day, all reminders of what had and hasn't been. One right after the other, without time to bounce back or recover before another reminder hit.

Knowing this is part of the grief process doesn't make it easier. While I abhor the expression "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," I can see the same sentiment from a reverse angle: the grief you don't feel will eventually dampen and block the light inside. Grief isn't meant to kill us, to keep us hiding inside or living in fear. We have lost something external to ourselves, perhaps a very important connection that made us part of who we are. We continue to live, even though the "new normal" is not what we dreamed of or hoped for.

To get through this stretch, I channelled Miley Cyrus and bought myself flowers. I had made plans with my girlfriends ahead of time for the anniversary, booking a comedy show months in advance. That weekend was wonderfully busy and full of love from my friends. I bought two Liberty jigsaw puzzles to treat myself, one of foxes dancing in the moonlight, another of an owl and flowers. For Jack's birthday, I bought myself more presents: posh bath towels, a new sweater, lipstick from my friend's cosmetic company, and lacy underwear. I got an overnight bag for future weekend trips. My favorite item on my retail therapy binge were notebooks for work to track my tasks, to cross things off the list to get the rush of accomplishment, no matter how small.

Surviving hard times is no small feat. Leaving untenable situations to leap off into the unknown is no small feat. Transitions are hard, but staying stuck is worse.

I think of my Dad, almost half of his lifetime ago, when he quit his job. He was in his mid-forties, and I was a sophomore at an expensive college. My mother supported his decision to leave what had previously been a good job but had turned into something different when the organization went through several leadership changes. I can't speak for my dad to say how awful the job was or wasn't, but I am guessing it was soul sucking.

Sometimes we need to quit, to say no, this isn't working, this isn't how I want to live. And even if we are 100% convinced we are making the right decision, that there is no solution or possible reconciliation, it is still hard.

At first.

But then it slowly gets better, and we can start to see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Which isn't really light in a tunnel, but instead our own light coming back into being.

Teenage Rebellion and the MLC (Mid-Life Crisis)

Are mid-life crises necessary? Are they an unavoidable part of being an adult? I ask because I have a few friends going through their MLCs. Mine started five years ago, and I am still adjusting to living in the new normal as a result of the upheaval. It is interesting to watch others going through their MLC as mine is in the past. My life has taken a different direction going forward.

Yes, I think MLCs are a normal part of life, but the degree to which people are impacted may vary based on their circumstances. 

I was reading a book by Bruce Fisher on relationships and he describes the nature of teenage rebellions, which aren't much different than an MLC. I never realized this, but teenage rebellions are natural part of growing up. When I was a kid, teenage rebellion was looked at as a bad and dangerous phase, where kids could get carted off to prison for doing drugs. The teenage rebellion was to be avoided.

Fisher says teenage rebellion is simpler. When kids are little, they model or mirror themselves based on their parents. The teenage rebellion is the transition from the mirroring phase to having their own identity, where they reconcile what they have grown up with and what they want to become. I believe most painful teenage rebellions are in part because the parents don't want their kid to change. Parents like their little mini-me's, and then balk at their kid's transformation. 

Kids needs to transform. Fisher says in his book that kids who don't rebel will rebel later in life, and it might look like a meltdown in their marriage or professional life.

So what is the MLC? I've been reading a lot of Richard Rohr lately, and one of my favorite books is Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life. According to Rohr, the first half of life is often lived in the ego, and for good reason. We need to build our lives: our homes, our careers, our families and friend circles. Living in the ego like this only holds for so long before. If we stay in the ego, we end up constantly chasing the next big thing, the next rush, whether it is more vacation homes, more cars, more money, more promotions, faster race times. 

All of those are fine by themselves, but they won't fill our emotional and spiritual lives. If we look for these things to fill out lives, we will only become more miserable as we chase things that cannot make us at peace. Accomplishment only goes so far before we break.

Some people might not live so much in the ego, so their reckoning might be smaller or easier. For some people, it might be a big fall. Others might not fall at all, but double-down on their ego-boosting addictions, which will only prolong their misery. This doesn't mean we have to give up our lives, but rather our ego's attachment to it.

So to those friends who are struggling through the transition, I see you. Fall into it, don't fight it. The struggle is a beautiful and wonderful, and life is more peaceful and serene on the other side.

Sugar

The other night I watched a documentary That Sugar Film (2014) by the Australian Damon Gameau. Years before he filmed the movie, he embarked on a healthy lifestyle: quit smoking, stopped eating sugar and junk food, started exercising, etc.

After he had been living a healthy life for a few years, he decided to see what would happen to his body if he ate the same amount of sugar a typical American eats in a day, which is about 40 teaspoons. Most of this sugar is hidden in savory or non-dessert foods like crackers, salad dressing, pasta sauce and low fat yogurt.

Long story short, he gained a lot of weight in his gut and face, and all of his health indicators (blood sugar, blood pressure, etc.) all tanked. He was tired all of the time and looked like it.

So you would think this would make me want to swear off sugar for the rest of my life, right?

Bizarrely, watching this movie made me crave cookies and carbs, I don't know why. Maybe it made me think about sugar, that it would be safe to eat it in moderation. In the past year or two, I've been really good about avoiding carbs and sugar, and my blood tests and energy levels reflect that. After I watched the movie, the next night I ate a chocolate chip cookie. Then I had some ice cream. I met a friend for coffee and she brought homemade apple spice cake with frosting. I've eaten two scones in the past two days, which are more scones than I've eaten in the past year. I had pasta for dinner tonight.

What is getting into me? Was this movie funded by Big Sugar to act as reverse psychology?

I need to get back on the sugar and carb free wagon. Help!

I am enlisting my friends to help. I recently pawned off two bags of "Hello Robin!" frozen cookies to my friend Katelyn. I had bought the cookies for a holiday cookie exchange because I was too busy/lazy to find a recipe, shop for all of the ingredients and then bake. The frozen cookies were perfect, plus any extra I could keep in my freezer for a rainy day. I can bake one cookie at a time in my toaster oven when I need a little pick-me-up, as my father says. Just-in-time fresh, hot cookies.

I am getting hungry writing about them.

So I gave (most) of my surplus frozen cookie stash to Katelyn. She has two teenagers, who will eat them without a problem.

 

Fast Cars & Target & My Stash

Some friends of mine are cheering me on and providing mutual support to get on me dating apps.

Wow. I thought the Spelling Bee was hard to figure out.

I am learning so much about how guys present themselves with so little information. There are a few themes. The first I'll discuss today is the guy in the fast, sporty car. 

Note to men: If you post a picture of yourself driving a Porsche or a Mustang or some other speedy car, great. I love it. It is awesome.

But you better let me fucking drive the fancy car in the picture. I am not signing up to be a spectator or ride in the passenger seat.

Just saying.

Also, everyone loves exploring other cities. How come no one wants to spend Sunday at Target? Or go grocery shopping? Or, "I spend the weekend maintaining this old house I bought. I need to power wash the deck. Sorry we can't go snowshoeing in the Cascades." I have to admit one guy called BS on all the adrenaline junkie sports as his non-negotiables: "Bungee jumping, rock climbing, sky diving. Those are all cool---from a distance."

Thank you, sir.

What won't I post on my profile: "I have a fabric addiction. I have boxes of fabric that I hope to someday turn into quilts that I don't need. Do you have children or nieces or nephews that could use a quilt? I love embroidery where I more kits than I have time to finish. I also horde paper. Do you need a coupon for Ace Hardware that expired in March? I have one in the stack on my kitchen counter."

How about providing practical information on the profile, like do you snore? Do you have a job that requires you to carry a pager? What does the pager sound like and how often are you called? You know to get out of bed and take the call in another room when I am there, right? What time do you go to sleep? Are you in bed by 8:30 p.m., or are you knocking around until 2:00 a.m.? How do you manage money? Do you have credit card debt? Are you a saver or a spender? Do you know how to fix a leaky faucet? If not, will you expect me to fix it, or let it drip for months until no one notices/cares anymore? Or, will you call a plumber, schedule the plumber's visit and pay for said plumber? My closet door is dragging on the floor. Can you fix it, without looking inside to see how much crap is in there and how disorganized it is? 

Thanks.