So Immature

 

I’ve been particularly irregular lately. Is that just something that is expected to happen from time to time and therefore requires no explanation or apology? Irregularity makes me feel uncomfortable, so I want to acknowledge it, but I’m also trying to give myself some grace because I’m doo-ing the best that I can.

I missed writing uh-gehhhhn last week. (What did you think I was talking about?) I have been working a lot lately, and that tends to constipate my creativity a bit. Know what helps me let loose? Getting together with the girlz.

We celebrated a friend’s 50^th birthday this week. FIFTY. I can’t believe she is fifty. When I expressed this notion to Audrey, she was confused. “Well, YOU are over fifty, and Miss Becky is around your age, so…..”

Right. Thanks for that information. It didn’t faze me to turn 50, and my age rarely crosses my mind. But Becky is just darling and beautiful and I have never considered that she was anywhere near 50. Actually, I don’t think of ANY of my friends as being at or around that age.

The four of us met when we all ended up living on the same street 17 years ago. Beth was already there, steady and established. She had the “big boys” who were tweens at the time. Then Allie, Becky, and I all rolled into the neighborhood in the Summer of 2004. The three of us had a total of 8.5 children under the age of 6. (Allie was still “in a family way” at the time.)

So that means that Becky was 33 years old when we met. And that’s kind of the age I always perceive her. It makes a ton of sense when I think about it. Although we have supported each other through some unbelievably effed-up life experiences, Becky doesn’t actually look very much different than the day we met.

I would even go so far as to declare that we ALL look much more beautiful than we did in our 30s. It’s amazing how relaxation and radiance have a chance to shine through when you DGAF what others think of you anymore. And the juvenile jokes that crack us all the way up? Definitely not at all befitting of actual mid-life ladies. Here’s a picture of us after dinner. Can you even believe all that sparkle??

Collectively we have 209 years of experience under our belts. Was it the Chippendale’s dancers that made us all glowy? Good Lord, no. We’re fifty-ish remember? While you might never guess our ages by gazing upon our lovely faces, our lady parts don’t lie. Want to have a good guess at a woman's age? Ask to look at her vagina. Why so shallow, Rodan & Fields??

The way we celebrated may not seem as exciting as male strippers, but it was way more enjoyable and at least 500% less sweaty. And being less sweaty is a fundamental daily goal with women our age. We just enjoyed a nice dinner with a couple bottles of wine, two desserts, and hours of conversation. Wanna know what a fancy, fun time we had? I got home AFTER TEN PM.

A Facebook memory popped up just today from 2014. I was wearing the exact same dress that I wore to Becky’s birthday dinner. Maybe this is the secret to looking young. Just keep wearing the same, old clothes for over seven years.

Complaining about age seems irrational to me. If I’m not getting older, what’s the alternative? I mean, you’re either one minute older or you’re dead, right? So I hope I always remember that aging is a privilege that a whole lot of people don’t get to have. And there’s not a single day of my life that I haven’t had at least one, tiny thing to be grateful for. Even on my very hardest, unpleasant days, I have family and friends who love me and breath in my lungs to say, “Thanks for that.”

I am grateful for each and every one of you.
Thank you for reading!

Easter Quarantine, Part 2

 

In these unprecedented, difficult times…..

Haha. Just kidding. Can you guys imagine that we have existed an entire year starting every conversation with this lame, uncreative prelude? And it’s not just the words, it’s the breathy, drawn-out, dramatic presentation. In THEEESE unPRECedented, DIFFicult tiiimesssssss….

You guys, is it OK for me to say that there’s something that I’ve really been digging about this pandemic? To be clear, I do not approve of people being infected and dying or becoming very sick or having their lives turned upside down. I don’t think that it minimizes anyone’s suffering to say that this pandemic has pushed us to make improvements that been a long time coming. mRNA vaccines, telemedicine and teletherapy being reimbursed by insurance, APPOINTMENTS AT THE DMV. Why did THAT take one hundred years to arrange??

I know online church is not new, but it used to be so weird. Like only the shouty, crazy pastors in blue suits with Southern accents were available online. Or virtual reality churches where parishioners appear as avatars of aliens or teddy bears in tutus. Or Kanye’s Church of Yeezy. Lawdamercy.

But now almost all churches have an online option! Albert and I attended Easter church service for the first time in about 15 years. We usually avoid Easter and Christmas services because they are just too crowded. But THIS year, we attended church just like we have done all year. In our jammies. With our little dogs in our laps. And coffee just the way we like it. And we are NEVER LATE! If time starts running out, I grab my phone and church starts in the bathroom while we are brushing our teeth. Is that sacrilegious? I have no way to confirm, but I bet God thinks that’s fine.

The sermon was about disappointment. I know, it sounds terrible, but remember it’s Easter. We heard the story about the people of Israel being so hopeful that Jesus was here to save the world but watching him die on the cross. This is not at all what they expected.

I have written before about the struggles of my oldest son, Alex. Six years ago, he became very depressed and we came very, very close to losing him. Easter 2015 was spent in the emergency room after the first time Alex tried to kill himself.

This year, Alex came over for Easter supper. He probably didn’t plan to come over for Easter. It just worked out that way. And it’s not like we have Easter Supper-with-a-capital-S. Albert picked up all-things-Costco: a spinach salad, assemble-your-own-street tacos, and an apple pie. DELICIOUS.

Alex continues to thrive, living on his own, working and figuring out his path. It is not at all what I envisioned more than 20 years ago holding this sweet baby boy in my arms, but I’m five hundred percent certain that this is the way it was meant to be.

On Sunday, Alex reminded me of a family therapy session a few years ago when I expressed so much sadness that Alex was suffering so much. I had accepted that he would not get back on the college track the way that I expected, and this filled me with a grief so intense that I felt like he had died. And it was true. THAT Alex of my illusions had died. But look at him now. THIS Alex has challenged and stretched our whole family into an awareness beyond my imagination. I experience contentedness and joy that I had not known before.

The story of The Resurrection is a lot like Alex’s story and truly like the story of our lives--filled with zillions of tiny do-overs. Disappointment comes when you stubbornly grasp on to unmet expectations. But when you bravely loosen your grip on those expectations and dreams, things seems to go sideways and you aren’t so much disappointed as you are surprised.

I’m not saying that I was particularly brave when Alex was very sick; I kind of ran out of options and hit a wall. But NOW I don't even HAVE to be brave, because I know that I don’t have to do things the hard way if I just hold things loosely. I hope that our family’s story gives you courage to loosen your grasp on expectations and to accept the present moment as it is.

Do not be afraid. Life is full of surprises.
Thank you for reading, my friends!

Evolution of Thought

 

Did you guys like when movies were shown in school? On the one hand, it was better than work! On the other hand, the educational movies were mostly boring. Not exactly “Saturday Night Fever.” High schoolers are notoriously sleep-deprived and don’t like listening to teachers, so sitting in a darkened, warm room watching a boring movie selected by an even more boring teacher was practically an engraved invitation to a nap.

But every once in a while, one of these movies stuck with me, and I recently remembered a movie called “Inherit the Wind.” The movie I watched in high school was a black-and-white produced in 1960. I was excited that a remake was released in 1999, and that is the one I watched this week.

“Inherit the Wind” is a dramatization loosely based on the Scopes Monkey Trial which took place in Tennessee in 1925. A high school teacher is arrested for teaching Darwin’s Theory of Evolution in school, “a violation of Public Act 31428, Vol 37 of the State Code which makes it unlawful for any teacher of the public schools to teach any theory that denies the creation of man as taught in the Bible and to teach instead that man has descended from a lower order of animals.”

It’s this progressive teacher against practically the whole town of Heavenly Hillsboro, the Buckle of the Bible Belt. A couple of Yankees, an attorney and a journalist, come to fight for the teacher in court. It’s a story about stubborn resistance to change and growth, fueled by violence and fear mongering.

The good people of Hillsboro know in their bones that God made man in seven days as stated in the Bible. How does this Northern attorney stand a chance in fighting this case? *Spoiler Alert* In the end, the attorney uses the Bible to fight the case. Here is the timeline of Creation as stated in Genesis:

Day 1: The Heavens and the Earth

Day 2: The sky

Day 3: The land, seas, and plants

Day 4: The sun, moon, and stars

Day 5: The birds and sea creatures

Day 6: Land creatures and man

Day 7: Rest

So this attorney concedes that God did create all these things, but that the length of the days were not defined as we know them before Day 4 when the sun, moon, and stars were created. The attorney argued that Days 1 through 3 could have been 25 hours, 30, hours, 10 years, or a million years long! Creationism and Evolution don’t have to be mutually exclusive!

It was all just a big misunderstanding. Our narrow, limited human minds could not wrap our heads around the greatness and limitlessness of God, creating a ton of defensiveness and inhibiting our ability to appreciate the wonder and opportunities that we have been graced with. Religion often has nothing to do with God.

It breaks my heart that the Catholic Church has refused to acknowledge same-sex marriages because I know that this causes a great deal of pain. It isn’t lost on me that the Methodist Church is also battling with this issue that seems to be a no-brainer to me. A lot of Christians don’t accept LGBTQI folks, and that is super hurtful as well. Because what if we have had a misunderstanding? I can’t believe that any of us beautifully flawed and vastly different people created by a loving God are “not right.” It doesn’t make any sense to me.

Here’s what the Bible says: “He who made them from the beginning made them male and female. For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one.”

We currently look at genitals to define male and female, but what if wieners have nothing to do with anything? What if we were supposed to be counting arm freckles or nose hairs to determine who’s male and female? Or maybe male and female is defined by something that we can’t even see or haven’t discovered yet? We humans have gotten things totally wrong in the past, like when we thought that the flat Earth was carried on the back of a giant turtle.

Just something to think about.
Thank you for reading, my friends!

That's a Cut!

 

Albert and I visited the local Asian grocery store Friday night to pick up poke. Our plan was to make a pot of sushi rice and a little side salad and enjoy an easy, delicious dinner together. Seems like a legit, empty-nester date night amiright??

Albert took the Romaine out of the fridge and was chopping for about thirty seconds, when I heard, “OW.” Albert had just added the secret ingredient to his Jeffrey Dahmer Salad. He had cut off the tip of his thumb and made the WORST SALAD EVER.

Holy smokes, there was SO. MUCH. BLOOD. You see, there is a tiny arteriole near the tip of your thumb, which is why you can feel your pulse there. Go ahead. I’ll wait while you try it.

Yeah, I couldn’t feel it either. But I know it’s there, and sometimes you can feel it apparently. So Albert’s thumb was gushing and dripping blood BUT I DIDN’T PANIC! You see, this same thing happened to me almost exactly 10 years ago at the end of January 2011 while I was making salad. Whenever I get frustrated with Albert, something weird like this happens to let me know that we are definitely meant to experience this life on Earth together.

I had been chopping up some leftover green beans to toss into our dinner salad when SNIP! The tip of my thumb AND a sliver of my fingernail were no longer attached to my body. It happened so fast that it didn’t even hurt. Our dinner salad had just morphed into thumb-thing completely inedible.

Albert and the kids were outside, and they were surprised to come in to see me holding my hand in a paper towel and the counter besprinkled with vegetables and blood. I bled through towel after towel trying to stop the flow, but my wounded digit wouldn’t stop gushing. Albert finally helped me pile on a giant wad of gauze and wrap my thumb up tight before we went to bed.

The next morning, the kids in my Sunday School class prayed for my bulbous, throbbing thumb. That afternoon, I wanted to inspect the damage and change the dressing, but the gauze was melded to my skin. Albert tried helping me soak and pry it off gently, but it hurt so much that I started sweating and thought I might throw up or faint.

I visited my doctor Monday morning and we had a giggle about how everyone says veggies are so good for you, but what the hell do they know?? After giving me a just-in-case tetanus shot, she soaked my flat-headed thumb in some warm water and Hibiclens for a while, then was able to remove all but that last thready layer of gauze.

The human body really is a miracle. Over the course of just a couple of days, my skin had begun to heal and incorporated some of the gauze into new layers of tissue. My doctor offered me a little lidocaine, but that seemed like way too much trouble. PLUS the thought of getting a SHOT into the tip of my already-pretty-sore thumb made me squirm. I have experienced HOURS birthing three babies without pain medication. I could certainly bear one more second of discomfort.

So I was more than ready for Albert’s emergency. I bound his thumb up, making sure to place a generous dollop of Neosporin between his stumpy thumb and wad of gauze. Albert wanted the bandage REALLY tight in order to stop the bleeding. We all know now a tourniquet is essentially warranted to stop blood from pulsing out of that arteriole. Of course, this didn’t feel very good, and Albert got up in the middle of the night to loosen the bandage, allowing blood to start seeping again.

That next morning, I offered my still-actively-bleeding husband to create that beautiful, bulbous wad of gauze that worked so well for me ten years ago. Of course, he declined my offer, since it is a husband’s obligation to say no to every good idea that doesn’t originate from his own brain. “Maybe I should go to the doctor,” he countered. So dramatic. Give that man an Oscar.

At first I started trying to convince Albert that I knew what needed to be done and that he didn’t need to go to the doctor, but then I stopped. Brene Brown and Brad Reedy host two podcasts that are so full of wisdom and all the things I need to know. Over the course of one month, both of these sages interviewed Harriet Lerner, who blew me away with her sensible, approachable, compassionate teaching. I gobbled up her book, “The Dance of Anger” and gave away copies for Christmas—but only to people who know I hold ZERO ulterior motives when I gift self-help books.

Harriet Lerner’s book helped me identify myself as an “over-functioner,” which means that I need to keep my damned nose out of everyone else’s business and let them make their own choices. So when Albert resisted, I started pushing back, but then I stopped. He’s a big boy. He is capable of making his own choices. If he wants to go see the doctor, that is fine. Thanks for the reminder, Auntie Harriet.

Then this really weird thing that happened. I stopped talking abruptly, and Albert thought I was mad because he wasn’t obeying my commands. He knows that I have been working on my tendency to over-function, so he understood when I told him that I was just correcting myself and that I respect his choices. Then he said, “Do you really think a pile of gauze will work?”

So I reminded him of how he helped me ten years ago.

Me: “Do you remember what you said to me when I was so scared that the bleeding wouldn’t stop?”

He: “Put pressure on it?”

Me: “No.”

He: “Raise your arm above your head?”

Me: “Nope.”

He: “What did I say?”

Me: “You said, ‘You’re not going to bleed to death from your thumb.’”

We have a joke in our family that our dogs don’t help around the house because they have no thumbs. It’s interesting that a single non-functional thumb didn’t stop me from doing much ten years ago, although I did have a pretty hard time getting my hair into a ponytail. Tying my sneakers took some creativity as well.

Albert opened a discussion with our dogs with his newfound sympathy for their thumblessness. But our dogs were adamant that Dad’s injured claw would not preclude him from participating in household chores.

And that, my friends, is a cut and a wrap.

Thank you for reading!

REH-so-lution Time, Come On!

 

I have only ever been successful meditating in the mornings before anyone else is awake. Once Fus start getting out of bed, my focus becomes tenuous at best. Being interrupted while deep in concentration elicits a physical response in me that feels like my core is being violently yanked out of my body. This is also why I can't read when my family is around. 

I've tried meditating in the evenings before bed, but that is consistently frustrating because I keep nodding off. A 20-minute meditation session feels like an hour and is neither relaxing nor enlightening. One a positive note, I am an excellent sleeper.

My meditation practice really benefits when my gym closes down, opening up a couple of hours consistently each morning. Thanks, COVID. A meditation teacher named Roger Gabriel is presenting a series called "Setting Your Vision for 2021." I am not wild about New Year's Resolutions and rarely make them. You know by now that I don't abide by many of society's silly rules, calendars being one of them. Promising lofty changes just because it's popular is setting yourself up for failure. I prefer to make resolutions on my own timeline. NOBODY TELLS ME WHAT DAY THE YEAR STARTS!

But Roger Gabriel presented a set of "resolutions" that could really be adopted on any day of the year, and I really liked them. I could set any of these aspirations for myself every morning of every day. Here's one I particularly liked:

"We all have triggers--people and things that set us off emotionally. Certain things always cause discomfort. Some things always bring happiness. Resolution: I will consciously maximize people and things that uplift me and minimize those that diminish me."

This small statement communicates so much!

• "We all have triggers." ALL of us. We might share some triggers, like picking up dog poop. DIMINISHING! Or perhaps something that makes me cry and sends me straight to bed might be your favorite activity, like going to the mall. Either way, WE'RE NOT ALONE in the understanding of how GREAT some things can be AND how YUCKY other things can feel.
  
  
• The first step is to PAY ATTENTION and notice the people and things that set us off emotionally. Only after these triggers are acknowledged do we have the ability to make any changes to minimize or maximize them.
  
  
• The goal is balance. There's no avoiding people and things that drain us, but we CAN minimize these diminishing experiences while maximizing those that uplift us. WE HAVE CHOICES.

It's always better to have control of your choices rather than ceding that power to another. There is a man from Shanghai named Chen who was so reluctant to take charge of his choices that he concocted a roundabout approach to minimize something that was apparently diminishing him.

One afternoon, Chen walked into a dance studio and stole a Bluetooth speaker worth 17,000 renmenbi, which is about $278. He was quickly apprehended by the Shanghai Police.

When questioned by the police, Chen told them that he was scheduled to get married in three days. "My girlfriend wants to marry me, but I don't want to marry her. I knew I would be caught." He asked not to be let off the hook hoping that his girlfriend would learn about his arrest and refuse to marry a thief.

Chen had cold feet for some time and wanted to walk away from his girlfriend, but he was "so angry" that he decided to get himself arrested to avoid talking to her.

OK, so dude has some issues and would benefit from getting in touch with some self-worth, setting some boundaries, and learning to state his needs without getting the police involved. To Chen's credit, he knew that his scheme would not cost the owner of the dance studio too much money and would also achieve his goal. So thoughtful.

For 2021, I hope that you will maximize people and things that uplift you and minimize those that diminish you. Preferably without getting tossed in the slammer.

Happy New Year, my friends! DON'T BE A ROBBER.

Thank you for reading!

And Many More

Audrey, Albert, and I spent a glorious, bluebird day skiing on Mt. Hood today. On the way up to the mountain, we passed through the darling little town of Sandy, home of the iconic Joe’s Donut Shop. If you’ve ever been by there, I’m sure you know it. It looks like it’s made out of Legos.

Every time I pass by this little shop, I think of my friend, Shoshana. She spends a lot of time on Mt. Hood hiking and snowshoeing. One time she even went fishing up there on a dare. She LOVES Joe’s Donuts, which sucks for her, because she cannot eat gluten. I am unclear about whether she has Celiac or whether she suffers from a different gluten intolerance, but I am VERY CLEAR that she CANNOT eat any gluten.

Shoshana loves Joe’s Donuts SO MUCH that she stops there every time she visits Mt. Hood. She takes a special medication that allows her to digest limited amounts of gluten so that she can enjoy her donut. She wouldn’t go to these lengths for just any donut, but “Joe’s is worth it!”

Our family used to have a little house up on Mt. Hood, so we rarely passed by Joe’s at Donut Time which strictly falls between the hours of 11pm and 9am. A donut at any other time is just inadequate cake-replacement. But one spring day, Chris and I got a case of the curious munchies, so we made a special trip to Joe’s, a 40-minute round trip drive into Sandy.

We arrived in the late morning, but still within the range of Donut Time. I understand that this may be late for Donut People who start their days in the wee morning hours. The lady we encountered was lethargic and not very helpful. She barely looked at us and her bottom was glued to a chair behind the counter far away from us. There was an assortment of filled donuts, but to find out what was in each donut, Chris was required to describe each one and ask individually.

Chris: “What’s in this one?”

Tired Donut Lady: “Which one?”

Chris: “The one with purple frosting.”

TDL: “Blueberry.”

Chris: “What’s in this one?”

TDL: “Which one?”

Chris: “The one with yellow sugar.”

TDL: “Lemon custard.”

And so it went. There were probably eight different filled donuts and several others we didn’t recognize, so this took a while. By the time we made our selections, the woman had clearly had it up to here with us. She had to get off her seat to put our donuts in a box AND count out our change. If I didn’t know any better, I might have thought that we picked WRONG DONUTS making her very, very angry.

Chris and I left there feeling very confused. BUT we had a big box of donuts.

In True Fu Donut Tradition, we admired our box of treasures and sliced each one carefully into five pieces so we could all taste each one. But after the first couple of bites, I was kind of done. Perhaps the hype and high expectations put Joe’s in a vulnerable position. Or maybe the grumpy TDL put a bad taste in our mouths. Joe’s morsels were mediocre at best.

I still think of Shoshana every time I pass by Joe’s, but I feel no draw to stop by for a donut again. But here’s the weird thing. I feel a little jealous.

A lot of people love Joe’s Donuts, and I can never be in that club now. I’ll never squeal in shared excitement when Joe’s is mentioned in conversation. As a matter of fact, I’ll probably be rejected by some people if ever they found out that I think Joe’s Equals Meh.

I feel this way about a lot of things; I don’t get excited about the same things that a lot of other people seem to get excited about. Christmas. Birthdays. Jewelry. Fancy clothes. Not only do I feel like I’m missing out on all the exuberant joy, but I feel left out on top of all of that.

I’ve already written a little bit about my complicated relationship with Christmas, which also happens to be my birthday. But this year I’m initiating a new birthday tradition for myself. My birthday has never been anything super special. Folks are busy and have more important things on their minds. And some years Christmas has been really, really hard for me for reasons I won’t bum you out over right now.

To remedy my sour feelings about Christmas, it has worked well for me to celebrate the birth of Jesus any and every day, not on a certain day dictated by society. So here was my epiphany this year: I CAN DO THE SAME THING WITH MY OWN BIRTHDAY! Any day I’m having an exceptional day, I’m going to declare that day an official birthday celebration, just appreciating and relishing in the day I was born.

So TODAY, this glorious, sunny day that I spent skiing in one of my favorite places in the world with my husband and daughter, IS MY BIRTHDAY! And since I’m just making up whatever tickles my fancy, this can happen every day of the year if I want! If some women can declare a “Birthday Month,” I suppose there just aren’t any rules, are there?

I’m happy you were born, my friends!

Thank you for reading!

It's a Wonderful Life, Birdbrain!

 

Christmas movies are a tradition in many families. I watched “It’s a Wonderful Life” as a kid and remember thinking it was sweet. I showed it to my kids many years ago when they were young and remember being disappointed. They weren’t that interested, and I didn’t enjoy it much from an adult perspective. Please don’t take this personally.

These nostalgic movie disappointments happened often once the kids graduated from strictly animated movies but were too young for really engaging films like “Suffragette” or “What Dreams May Come.”

Many years ago, I was very excited to share one of my favorite childhood movies with my kids: “The Bad News Bears!” I guess I didn’t realize as a kid that Coach Buttermaker came to be the leader of the Bears as the result of a court order as punishment for drunk driving. The coach was drunk most of the time and downright abusive to the kids.

I hear a lot of folks say that “It’s a Wonderful Life” is their all-time favorite Christmas movie, so I gave it another try this past week. I did enjoy the last ten minutes of the film, but I was pretty irritated with the first hour and three-quarters. There were some bizarre and amusing elements: Why was there a crow living in the Building and Loan office? Why did Uncle Billy have an emotional support squirrel living in his house to comfort him after he lost the money?

One main issue I had with “IAWL” was with the pharmacy scene. Mr. Gower, the pharmacist, is very upset and has been drinking. Were there no laws against impaired pharmacists in the 40’s? That is just not OK.

Mr. Gower was very sad because he just learned that his son died from Influenza. Fun fact: the first Influenza vaccine was approved for public use in 1945. Death by Influenza was commonplace back then and it made people very, very sad. Get your flu shots, folks.

In his drunken grief, Mr. Gower prepared capsules for a family who had Diphtheria. Another Fun Fact: the first Diphtheria vaccine was approved for widespread use in 1920. Under the miserly thumb of Mr. Potter, the good citizens of Bedford Falls might not have had access to vaccinations. See all the problems this can cause? A robust public healthcare system is essential.

Unfortunately, the impaired pharmacist mistakenly filled the capsules with poison rather than, I suspect, an antibiotic. Here’s what I don’t get: Why did Mr. Gower stock a bottle of POISON in his pharmacy. It was a bottle of white powder marked with a skull and crossbones labelled “POISON.” That is just asking for trouble. Maybe pharmacies got occasional prescriptions for poison back in the 40’s. I wasn’t there, so I don’t know for sure.

Another issue I had with “IAWL” is that George Bailey was such a well-respected guy in his community, but he wasn’t very nice to his wife. I downright can’t even believe that a beautiful, smart woman like Mary would waste her time on this turkey. Take the scene at the pharmacy when George and Mary were young kids. George is making an ice cream for Mary and asks if she wants coconut sprinkles.

Mary: “I don’t like coconuts.”

George: “You don’t like coconuts? Say, Birdbrains, don’t you know where coconuts come from?”

HE CALLED HER BIRDBRAINS. Good Lord, can you imagine what fate would befall a boy who called my Audrey “Birdbrains??”

Did Mary shoot George Bailey a giant stink eye or run from this demeaning punk as fast as she could? NO. Instead she whispered to him, “George Bailey, I’ll love you till the day I die.”

And then George goes on to say, “Maybe I’ll have a couple-a harems. And maybe three or four wives. Wait and see!” Mary responds to this misogynistic statement with google eyes like a silly girl-simp.

AND THEN when George serves her ice cream, IT HAS COCONUT ON IT EVEN THOUGH SHE CLEARLY STATED THAT SHE DOESN’T LIKE IT.

Later in the movie after Mary returns from college, George visits her at home. Here are some things he said to woo her:

“When’d you get back?”

“Where’d you get that dress?”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“I just came in to get warm.”

And most romantically, *shaking Mary by the shoulders* “I don’t want to get married ever to anyone!”

The next scene is the wedding. 

These movie characters sure made it hard on themselves with all the unhealthy communication and manipulation. Toward the end of the movie, George Bailey was so emotionally dysregulated that he almost couldn’t pull himself together.

And while it was lovely to see his badass wife activate the whole community to save the Building and Loan business, George is going to need to get out of that business and follow his dreams of exploring the world before he loses himself completely. And Mary is going to need to establish some firm boundaries with her husband and quit being such a doormat. And Uncle Billy could do with a vigorous eyebrow trimming.

At the end of the movie, we all see the positive ways that George Bailey touched the lives of those in his community, Clarence gets his angel wings, and we all view George as a “good” guy. But what about the negative ways he affected others around him? Like that temper tantrum before he left the house, got drunk, and crashed his car? And what about the trauma to his family after his suicidality? Do those actions make him “bad?” 

We all affect people with our actions. Sometimes a single action can have a positive effect on one person and a negative effect on another. Like if there’s only one cookie left, one person gets a cookie, and one person is sad.

Or sometimes an action can have a short-term negative effect but a long-term positive effect, such as practically any effective parenting.

And we all have done things that we are not proud of. So does that make us good guys or bad guys? It’s my opinion that you are perfect EXACTLY the way you are. Everything about you is perfect for your experience in this world and every mistake is an opportunity to learn. We’re all connected to each other in this world in some way, so it’s up to us to help each other out.

Happy Holidays, Birdbrains!
Thank you for reading!