Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Missed Manners



Have you noticed that people don't seem to have time for either - manners or cocktails - anymore? It's sad, really, because manners are important and I love cocktails. Whiskey Sour. Margarita. Long Island Ice Tea, please and thank you.




I miss manners. Not the Amy Vanderbilt Complete Book of Etiquette, how you should address your neighbor's maid and which side you serve the pickled beets from kind of thing. The Romper Room,  Do be a Do-Be. Don't be a Don't-Be kind. (yes, I'm old, I actually had this book as a child and scribbled all over it because even back then I didn't take to being told what to do!) 




But manners, much like the right way to mix and serve a good drink, seem to be a thing of the past and I'm not sure why. 

I've heard a lot of theories, stress, a lack of time, and always being online have made it so much easier to accept selfishness and taking the path of least resistance (margaritas in a can? Are we animals?) as the norm.

If it isn't supposed to be about me all day every day, then why do they call it social MEdia?

It's gotten so bad I'm in favor of public places posting a set of rules titled "Things You should Have Learned in Kindergarten But Clearly Have Forgotten So Here We Are". They would include basic stuff:

Auntie Helen's attitude since even before Kindergarten and yet, she manages to mind her manners and get along with others (or get away from others, if that's what it takes).

For starters, if you wouldn't do it to or around someone you love, don't do it around or to ANYBODY. We all know that name calling, finger pointing, being disrespectful to people or property is wrong.
 If you didn't know it, you'd do it to everyone, everywhere. So stop giving yourself the excuse that it's okay because you disagree with someone or because it's just this one time, or it's their job to put up with whatever garbage I create, or they had it coming, or... No. Just no. You know better. And if you didn't, you do now.

Use your words wisely, If you don't have the words, or wisdom, or already know the words won't actually accomplish anything (save maybe hurting someone and/or making you feel like a big shot) then use your feet, (or your fingers if you're online). Remove yourself from a situation. Or don't go there to begin with. 

Just these two would go a long way toward making day to day exchanges between people so much more comfortable. It's just not that hard to NOT be a Jerk.
I am not generally the preaching sort.


Whenever I think I might run away to start a new life I realize I'm too old to take up stripping and too flawed to preach the Gospel! 
 I'm too big of a mess to try to tell anyone how to tidy up their own lives. I do know that kindness gets us all a lot further in life than ugliness.

Every single soul you meet today has had, is having, will have, struggles you cannot comprehend. If you look at them through that lens, maybe you will see the whole world as a place that needs and deserves a gentler heart, a softer tone, and a stiffer drink.








Monday, September 2, 2019

What Would Lucy Do? The Mostly True Story of How Helen Got the Hat of Her Dreams.

Plate, Pie, Pancake, or Cartwheel, whatever you call the large, shallow crown, wide brimmed straw hat that one (well, this ONE anyway) associates with chic 1950's fashion, it has been my holy grail (the metaphorical kind, not the religious drinking goblet kind. No offense, but I'll eat my hat before I'll drink from it) for years.
And today I found one. A Christine Original. In black. In perfect condition. For... well, let's say probably more than it cost new.
And me, as usual, broke, two days after pay day!
Okay, not broke so much as tight-budgetted.
Still, I HAD to have that hat! But how?

Only one hope. I lowered my head, closed my eyes, and did what I have done time and again when faced with one of life's harsh dilemmas and need answers. I asked myself: What would Lucy do?  

Lucy and Hedda Hopper, a couple o' gals who were never in over their heads... without the perfect hat over those heads.
It seemed so obvious it was embarrassing. I called out "Oh, Ricky... I mean, Hubby... Isn't this just the cutest hat?"
Hubby, hardly glancing up from reading the inscriptions on old bowling trophies: "Are you sure it's the right size? It looks too big."
"It's the style. It's called..."
He's moved on to a map of some place he's never been to, or even heard of, but is absolutely sure is not drawn to the proper scale. Unlike the hat, he thinks this one is too small. And over priced. Why would anyone pay that kind of price for something that isn't properly proportioned? 
This is his way of saying he is definitely not buying me the hat.
Sigh.
I put it back and mope my way down the aisles.
"Are you gonna give up that easy? Have you leaned nothing from half a century of watching me wheedle, and connive and plot and scheme to get my way? Honestly, I would never have given up that easily, just ask Ethyl."
I couldn't ask Ethyl but I could ask the Internet. "Look, 19 people in the first ten minutes agree that I should have that hat!" I tell Hubby.
He has moved on to antique snow shoes. Probably shopping for that cold day in hell when he gives in on this hat thing.


Again, I put the hat back. Then I think - Hey, I'm an independent woman with my own job and money, why can't I spend it as I see fit? I can, of course. IF I have it to spend. Which I don't... do I? 
Crossing my fingers I reach into my purse to take out my wallet, just to see if there might be enough to get the hat of my dreams.

Four ones. A ten and... a twenty? WHAT? I blink to clear my vision and look again. Where did that come from? 
A Miracle? An answer to a prayer? 
No, now I remember. Hubby gave me cash to pick up dinner later.
Dang. That's not hat money, it's pizza money. 
"Well, there's pizza and then there's pizza." 



I hear Lucy's voice in my head. Or maybe I said it out loud. It's hard to tell at this point. All I know is that I now have that hat.


And dinner at our house tonight is not delivery, it's DeGiornos 


Missed Manners