Nicknames

My name is short, just 4 simple letters. 2 syllables; Lisa. Technically, if someone wanted to shorten it to one of those syllables, they could, but few people do. I do have the occasional "Li" or as my lovely Deb calls me "Li-li" - but she's the only one that usually calls me that, thankfully 'cause it sounds like a panda or chimp name...(maybe Deb is trying to tell me something?! *scratches head with one hand and underarm with other pondering why WHY WHY Deb might associate her with a monkey!?*)

More often than not, if someone does shorten my name, they will call me "Lis" (pronounced Lease - as in "Space for Lease"). What I have realized is, I don't always like it. I couldn't figure out why for a time, but then I realized one day that only people that are really special to me can get away with it. The earliest occurrance of "Lis" that I can remember are my uncles Bob & Mike. Then, in Oz, a few of my closest friends did. Ahhh...fond memories... It's a familiar and intimate thing, calling me "Lis." However, I don't get really irritated by it if someone "less than special" calls me by that name.

I worked with someone that did. She had a longer name that she almost refused to answer to. She insisted on the familiar tense of her name. And another that didn't like it when hers was shortened.

The familiarity thing definitely rings true for my friend Danielle. I call her anything from Dani to Dan to just simple "D."

My "Lis" had really been my only nickname forever. The where I work, my logon is "watsol." Meet the Fockers" had just come out and the little kid kept chanting "assholllle" and the way he said it, sounded like "watsollll" - that one stuck for awhile. Recently though, the one that has been used is "eldub" (derived from LW). Yet, again, I don't think it would translate outside of work.

So, I guess you can try your luck, call me "Lis" and see how I really feel about you!

The Soundtrack of Your Life

So, a friend asked me "What ringtone do you want?" He was going to customize it so he knew when I was calling. Huh. I was stumped.

You would think that would be an easy question, but nu-uh! How does one define themselves by one song?

While I would love to call myself an audiophile, I know way too many people whose passion for music far exceeds mine. I am lazy with it. I haven't searched for new and exciting things, mainly because it is hard for me to define what I would want to find. So, I wait for friends to share with me. Although, with iLike on Facebook, I have found myself venturing out a little more and searching. I have found many things i like, no pun intended. OK, well, maybe a little intended.

Regardless, my life is filled with music. Much of it is the stuff I grew up with in the 70's & 80's, but that would also include the 30's through 60's too. I can pull out the lyrics to a 40's tune almost as easily as I can one from the 80's. There are few genres that I can't tolerate, but I do find it odd, the songs I didn't like "back in the day" I can tolerate now, mainly on nostalgia. Case in point: Richard Marx. Couldn't stand his frizzy mulleted "don't mean nothin'" voice back in the 80's yet, I still find him "right here waiting for [me]". But now, I listen.

There are still some I have to change when I hear the 1st bar of the tune: "Nothing Compares 2 U" - puke. " "My name is Luca" - vomit. The only thing that can help me tolerate the first is that I can associate it with Australia. As we all know (OK, maybe YOU don't, but many do), if it is linked to my Oz, I can find a way to love it. The song was popular here before I went "down under" and then, it was released there right after I got there. I had to put up with that weird shaved head for a year. I digressed...

I don't want to think of the songs that bug me, I want the songs that fill my life with love and fond memories ~ we don't focus on those times near enough!

Even in times of sadness, like my grandpa's death. I remember during that summer, (1984?) we spent so much time reminiscing about him my mom's childhood and fixing up my great-grandma's house to prepare it for renting. Quarterflash's "Harden My Heart" was popular and when I hear it, I remember that time with my family and the smell of corn starch & downy ~ what we used to remove the wall paper in the house.

To many of those types of songs, I refer to them as my "Childhood Happy Songs," (even if for no other reason, they had a lot of "nah nah nah nah nahs" in them). Cherish, Sister Golden Hair, Philadelphia Freedom, Afternoon Delight, Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin', Wildfire, to name just a few. These make my heart swell when I heart them. They bring me back to such a warm comfortable place. My parents gave me a wonderful life and filled it with music.

I grew up in the right decade. I wanted my MTV and I GOT it. I was Hungry like the wolf (you know you said it in that quick breathy Simon leBonn way too!), I didn't know what She-Bop was really about, but I sang right along with it anyway (sister, that song too was about masturbation, just like Blister in the Sun, and the dance moves in Beat It!). I remember when you had to wait up until the wee hours (11 pm!) to hear the Cure & REM for the Alternative (120 Minutes) on MTV. It was the end of the world as we knew it and i did feel fine. I can sing along with a lot of that and I do know the right lyrics to "Come on Eileen," I have won over at least 1 person with that knowldge alone.

Music is so personal. It is the poetry to which I fill my life. I just saw "Mama Mia" and mentioned to a friend that from now on, if song lyrics fit a situation, I will break into song and treat my life as my own musical. Who am I kidding, I have already been doing that - you know it's true if you have spent any time with me.

The music of my life is flavored with the experiences I have shared. I have "The Best Thing" that summarizes my life in Oz. The perfect anchor song for that, yet I also have "Roam" that has a special place too and not for the obvious "I was roaming around the world" connection - it's much more personal than that. Rattle & Hum, Guns & Roses, Kate Cebrano, Terrence Trent D'Arby, Jimmy Barnes, Johnny Diesel...all Aussie connections. And how can I not include Elton & Phil in that mix?!

I am going to go and mow my lawn now, an event that won't make it into the movie of my life, but while I am mowing, I will be listening to my mp3 player and listening to songs that help me make it through every day. And I will be wondering if that song will make it into the official soundtrack of my life.

The Midwesterner & the Fruitloop

I have weird encounters all the time. I try to be compassionate & understanding of the individuals that make these encounters weird, but that doesn't make the situations any less interesting and/or entertaining. I also have to take into consideration the very real possibilty that I myself may be considered on of the weird people in other people's stories.

In this story, I am, of course, the Midwesterner. I was suppose to have dinner in Manhattan with 2 friends, but one needed to cancel, so the other friend and I met in a Queens barrio named Kew Garden. It was a nice Irish Pub that had a patio area. It was a lovely day, we opted for the patio.

As we sat down, I noticed the bohemianesque looking woman sitting about 15 feet away, her feet surrounded by bags of fruit from the fruit market next door. She looked a little worst for wear, she had lip stain on that was bleeding into the rest of her face, dark eyeliner that was certainly applied with care and deliberation at least a day before. It was now quite weathered looking as well. She had a nice flowy skirt and a big wide necked sweatshirt on (a la Flashdance cover) and of course no bra (what true bohemian would wear one?!). her overall demeanor was that of being lonely. It made me a little sad for her.

We ordered the fried (did I mention we were at a PUB) brie entre, and they brought it sitting in some red fruit sauce. DANGER! CAUTION!

"Uh, is this strawberry or raspberry?" I asked of the waitress. I see the woman flagging me down. I acknowldge and she tells us that it is really good. "Thanks," I tell her.

"No, it's really good! It's cheese!"

"Yes, we are aware of that, but we are inquiring about the sauce."

"It's really good too, you eat it with the cheese!"

"Yes, thank you..." and we tried to go about out meal. I only get so few precious moments with this friend. We were quickly lost in our diadic conversation again only to notice a few minutes later, the Fruit Lady was flagging us down again.

"Did you like it?"

"Yes, thanks"

"I am so sorry, I don't mean to keep bothering you two!"

Well, yes she did, 'cause it was deliberate and persistent, but I let it slide & let her know she was fine and she was not a bother. Truly at that point, she wasn't.

I tend to drink a lot - not alcohol, just beverage in general, so I had to find the loo. I am doing what you do in a loo and I hear the door open, see feet, hear the door to the next stall open...and stay open...feet are still out in the open area...uh, AWKWARD!

I walk out to wash my hands & there she is. "I thought I might run into you down here!" and then she proceeded to ask me a battery of questions about who my friend is and how I know her and how she just feels something comforting about me. All the while I am thinking "Please God, don't let me be raped in a NYC bathroom!" Until now, she seemed harmless. Now, she crossed over to oogy & weird, but still a great deal of pity was in my heart for her. She seemed so lonely. The oog factor won out. I got the Hell out of Dodge.

Back up on the patio, I relay the story to my friend and her jaw drops. The Fruit Lady returns, finishes off her 2 glasses of wine that were sitting in front of her and proceeds to keep trying to talk to us always following it up with "I am so sorry to be bothering you!" and orders another wine.

Between finishing her 3rd wine, she visited the loo one more time and asked us to protect her fruit, we obliged. It behaved. Even the rascally blueberries. You always have to keep an eye on them.

She paid her bill, collected her fruit and left. So we thought. She circled around and ended up standing next to our table! She proceeded to tell us how nice we (I) was and how she felt so comfortable talking to me. My friend blurted out "Yeah, she's from the Midwest, they are all nicer out there." The woman started talking politics, health care, television...you name it, she covered it. My friend got up and had her trip to the loo. On her way, she reached the top of the patio, where I could see her just over Fruit Lady's shoulder, and started doing the running man, laughing & pointing. I heard her life story. Seriously. Her. Life. Story.

Ultimately, she truly was just lonely and had a really rough day. I offered a hug. She wouldn't let go at first. Again, awkward. However, it did me no harm and maybe was the best thing that happened to her that day, so where's the problem? All of the other patrons in the place were mouthing "You are way to friggin' nice," "Wow...," or "I am so sorry!" Again, other than losing out on quality time with my friend, it was not that big of a deal. Again, she needed someone & I was OK with being that someone. I just wish she would have left out the bathroom stalking.

My friend returned and we paid the bill, solely to get away from her because we did want to finish our discussion. As we walked out, the staff thanked us for "putting up with her" to which my friend again replied "eh, she's from Indiana, it's in her blood." The waitress happened to be from Kalamazoo. I told her if she really felt bad for us that she would have given us free beer. She just laughed at that. I didn't.

It was such an odd encounter. But, in a way, I am glad I was able to be there for her and she was there to give us a little more spice to our evening. So, if you are ever on a Delta flight from NYC to Italy, and you see a bohemianesque flight attendant that smells faintly of fruit, wine & pub food, tell her I said hi!

I Love a Rainy Night

Sure, if you are like me, you have the song going through your head ~ or at least the tune, if you aren't a lyric freak like me. But the song rings true. I DO love a rainy night. I DO love to hear the thunder and watch the lightening as it lights up the sky. It DOES make me feel good.

Problem is, I sleep so well through rainstorms. It stinks when I wake up and realize that I completely missed it. My perfect evening would be sitting, watching the storm, relaxing, and then going to bed while it's still raining and falling asleep to the sound of it pelting whatever resistance it meets.

The only other problem with heavy rain is that I am now a homeowner with a cracked foundation. Makes me sad that my mind goes to "uh oh, is there water in the basement?" now. That will only be a temporary issue though, just takes the time (and money) to get it fixed.

I believe ~ and since it's my mind, my memory it's more a statement of knowing ~ that there are a couple of things that contribute to my affection for thunderstorms. When we (me and my brother) were little, we lived in a "starter home" (that cost my parents $13,000 in 1970) in what use to be an OK area in Porter County ('Shire' for any Aussies that might stumble upon this). It was a simple house with a big (in my 4 year old minds eye it was GINORMOUS) picture window. This was the 70's, so there was of course pea green shag carpet and an olive couch involved too. This couch was 15 feet long. OK, it was a standard couch, but I was 4, so my brother & I could both lay at opposite ends and not touch each other - very important for a 4 & 6 year old.

When it would rain, we knew that Dad, a new construction plumber, would be on his way home. we would lay on the couch, our heads on Mom's lap. I was usually on the south end, brother on the north. She'd give us a snack, I seem to recall Nutter Butters (I was never fond of peanut butter, but I didn't mind those - they had sugar and chocolate after all). We would just lay there watching the storm clouds waiting for Dad.

I am not sure which part of the memory is most comforting, the patiently waiting for Dad, the quiet time with Mom, Dad actually getting home...I like to think it's all of it. It's my memory, so I guess I get to declare that it is in fact all of the above.

Another fond memory of sky watching is my Grampa. Their house in Gary (yes, there are nice areas on Gary...) was lined with a half dozen or so maple trees. I remember Grampa & his dachshund sitting there looking for shapes in the clouds. I would lay on the ground next to him in his chair watching and trying to see the same shapes and/or find my own.

Simpler times? Probably not...I am sure in many ways, they were tougher. Grampa lived through the Depression, fought in a War in a land where his mother & father had left as young adults, didn't have much money, but made muddled through.

But, watching clouds and waiting for loved ones to come home is a simple concept and one that I think I want to make more time for. Care to join me?

Where Bicycle Helmet Come From

RIP, Groundhog, RIP

So, about a month ago, I posted a blog about the groundhogs in my yard. Today, a friend was letting my doggy out and noticed an immobile lump of fur in the yard. Together friend and dog went to inspect. Yes, one of the groundhogs was belly up, literally.

For as much as I despise those dang things, I still feel really badly that one of them is gone. It's so weird...I really don't want them in my yard, but I don't want them DEAD either!

It's sorta like when there is a new hire where you work and you know they really aren't a good fit. You like them a lot, but you really don't want them to work with you either. And you complain or get annoyed, but then feel really bad when they are canned...

BUT, the good news is, my dear friend took care of disposing of the carcass so I didn't even have to see it. I love my friends.

Odd Fascination with Animal Shaped Structures

I finally saw The Big Duck on Long Island. I actually went out of my way on this trip to make sure I did. After going out there for the last 4 years, I figured it was time.

It is, in fact, a big duck. I wasn't sure what to expect size wise and it was a little smaller that i anticipated, but I realized...DUH, the Duck can't be as big as Lucy, the Elephant - Elephants are MUCH larger than ducks. Life made sense again.

Lucy, my lovely Elephant, resides south of AC (that's how the cool kids refer to Atlantic City...now you know) in Margate http://www.lucytheelephant.org/.

She has been around for 128 years and is 6 stories tall. She has PRIME real estate looking out over the Atlantic. I try to see her when I get to that area. I have others obsessed with her too now. That makes me happy.

When I think about it, I was intrigued all the way back when...

The first animal shaped building I visited was the Big Merino in Australia, http://www.bigmerino.com.au/ww.bigmerino.com.au/.

It is a large sheep in the middle of New South Wales - Goulburn (south of Sydney - north of Melbourne). The light coming out of the eyes and the dags are the things that I remember making the most fun of. That was a great trip with my Aussie family...

The Village People...immortalized

Whilst out on Long Island the week, I came across this:

He made me laugh... either he's a Nazi or a Charismatic Christian.

So, yes, he's an antique and I get the nostalgia, but with my history (knowing and loving a lot of Germans), anytime I see this gesture, I have to cringe & laugh.

When one of my lovely interns was living here, I asked him if he would like to attend an American wedding. That was a bit misleading as it was and American wedding AND an African wedding. So, we both enjoyed learning some new traditions.

One tradition took him by surprise. As I mentioned above, Charismatic Christians (so I am told) raise their arms (typically just one - 'cause the other is holding the Hymnal or Bible) up in praise. I didn't think 2X about this, but the GERMAN next to me couldn't control his shock then following laughter. I didn't get it until later when he said "WOW, what a nice NAZI wedding!" We giggled a lot about that alllll the way to the reception and then again any time we think about it!

Later on, while driving down the same street, I saw a statue of a cop in a thrift store window. I drove the rest of the length of the road (Shel, I found where the sidewalk ends!) but didn't find the rest of the Village People. Maybe they protect the south fork of LI.

well, I WAS born in Gary...

So, I have this habit. If you know me, you will soon find yourself nodding in agreement. I really have no inhibitions walking up to most people. It use to drive a couple of my friends nuts. We would be in a restaurant and, if we were missing a condiment, I would turn around and ask to use theirs. Or, I will interject an answer to a question posed, if I know it. Why not? Friends have learned to just go with it.

It was by just being social that I met the concrete guy that fixed the apron in the driveway and the front stoop. I have met many an interesting person this way and I have a feeling that most of the people can say the same about me :P

A couple of weekends ago, I was at a restaurant and as I walked into our dining area, there was a little boy that was obviously trying to do the moonwalk. This was just a couple (2?) days after Michael Jackson's death and many were in "moonwalk" mode. I happen to know how to moonwalk, so why not impart my wisdom? My friends saw me stop, collectively did a slight "oh, there she goes" type head shake and went about their conversation while I taught the little kid (who panicked a little when this slightly inebriated woman offered to teach him how to do the move). His Mom gave the OK (more of an "it's OK, the woman may be weird, but she seems harmless..." response).

The kid did OK, but still kept sliding the wrong foot. I judged him. I still do.

I looked MUCH better than this guy....although, I do envy his headband.

Is it just me?

... or is the message on the sign a slight understatement?

"Closed for remodel"

BEWARE OF THIS WOMAN (at Sporting Events)

She so crazy! What a hoot...Went to the Silverhawks Game to hear my friend, Ken, sing the National Anthem and then, instead of the 7th Inning Stretch, he & his choir group sang God Bless America (thank God it wasn't God Bless the USA...for some reason that song always chokes me up!).

We listened to his choir and watched the game from section 104 with his family (5 of 7 kids were there as well as Buisha & his wife, Amy).

I, of course, befriended the family next to me and I had to apologize for my being socially inappropriate. They didn't mind, they seemed to enjoy that I was posing in their pictures and interjecting my *ehm* humor.

Amy was quite passionate about the game. How. Frigging. Funny. She is definitely an active participant. I was warned she is just as bad at the ND Women's basketball games. At one point someone that we had not spoken to near us said, in good humor, "and you said YOU were the socially inappropriate one?"

I was proud to be someone that is arguably as loud as me and embraces it. They come along few and far between. At least now I understand why her husband gets along with me!