Pet Peeve: Women's Bathrooms

Did you know that a popular item in Asia (I cannot remember if it Japan or China, shame on me for the generalization) is toilet seats that play music to disguise the sounds of nature? I admit, I found the idea at once both absurd and also a great idea. If only there were neutralizing air fresheners that went off with the tune playing so all that unladylike business would be covered up like it doesn’t happen at all.

Men, you can step away for a moment, I want to speak to my female readers here.

Now, I don’t know about you, but what I have noticed is that women are often suspiciously quiet in bathroom stalls when others are in the bathroom. Obviously, we do not want to draw attention to the sounds and smells of the elimination process. Yet, I find it incredibly ironic, that these are the same strong, sensible women that take in hand (so-to-speak) changing dirty diapers, washing soiled underwear, and other rather dauntingly unclean tasks. Somehow, when it comes to public restrooms we get shy. Our bladders need assistance from the running taps or various other tricks that inspire us least we admit our humanity with the gas we pass.

The Hug Rule

Growing up, we didn’t have a ton of rules to follow, at least I didn’t. Maybe that’s because I was the youngest and my parents had already been “broken in” by my older siblings or maybe it just wasn’t Mom and Dad’s parenting style. So besides rules about going to bed on time and not talking with strangers we had the Hug Rule. The Hug Rule stated that you had to have at least four hugs a day to be sure you had enough hugs to fall asleep happy and safe. At the end of the day Mom or Dad or on special occasions both of them (they were involved with various community services that had meetings on weeknights) would come in and tuck me into my bed and ask if I had enough hugs that day. If I had enough then I would get one extra from either parent and be snuggly tucked into bed. But, if I didn’t have my fair share of hugs for the day, my parents would sometimes whisk me out of bed and down the hall to hug my sister or brother or maybe the parent who wasn’t there or even one of the cats if they hadn’t gotten themselves left outside for the night. The Hug Rule was sacred for many years in my early childhood and it’s one that I would like to spread across the world. If there were more appropriate and caring physical contact between families I think it would go a long way to people feeling more valued, more secure, and definitely more cared for. Four hugs a day, is that really asking a lot?

Remembering: Aunt G

Coming up later this month is the birthday of a women who is already dead. She was a sparkling light of energy, opinions, a strong taste for shopping, and an enormous love of cats, she was my Aunt G. Aunt G was not truly my aunt, at least not in the biological sense of the word, she was a friend of my mother’s who was a much loved part of the family. Because of her choice not to marry or have children, my siblings and I became a kind of surrogate for her. Albeit, we were 3,000 miles apart for the majority of our lives, we lived on the West Coast where my father had found a job and she lived on the East Coast in the same town my mother grew up in. She was something special and she took the time and trouble to make sure I knew she loved me and thought of me often.

Some may contest this ascertion, but I know it to be fact, I was Aunt G’s favorite. I think she always wanted a little girl and with my big gray eyes and curly hair, I imagine she was smitten with me. Of course, I also allow that I shared one of her biggest hobbies, as did my mother, shopping for jewelry. Aunt G could sniff out a deal on gorgeous Zuni fetish necklaces or find gold elephant earrings for a fraction of the wholesale’s price. It was marvelous to watch her in action because she just fell in love with the sparkle and shine of the jewels and her face and body would take on a glow with each new purchase.

Aunt G was a woman who did not understand the impact she made on the world (few of us know the important positions we hold in the lives of others). I was not very good at telling or showing her how much she contributed to my life and who I am today. When she died of cancer, my regret was immense that I never got to tell her how much I loved her. But that was also her way.

Venting Frustrations

You know how sometimes something someone says can just rub you the WRONG way? Maybe it was their timing, maybe it was extenuating circumstances related to the situation that added to the whole “straw-that-broke-the-camels-back” feeling of the communication, but whatever it was, it just caused intense, MUST RESOLVE emotions in you.

In this case it is the classic, carrot and stick method, I never seem to see the carrot (yet, somehow I believe it is out there somewhere), but the stick is a constant concrete reality that seems to bash me upside the head more often then not. So, if I have been short with people recently, on the verge of tears or perhaps screamed at you recently over the phone, in person, via IM, or e-mail, believe me when I say, it’s not you, it’s me. I am just about ready to hang up my work-ethic and run away to join the circus…although G-d’s honest truth, that looks rather demanding as well. Maybe I’ll snatch one of those “Work From Home” fliers off the side of the freeway and keep the dog company as I sell pyramid schemes to unsuspecting senior citizens and stay-at-home parents.