Dance of the flexible

She was the reigning limbo champion of many a 7th grade CARE dance. Lower the broom and watch girlfriend get her groove back. You're so flexible! her classmates cried.

So. Flexible.

But don't try to make her change her best-laid plans when she was fixing to not have to do bedtime for the kidlets tonight. Did no one take record of her being the chief conductor of bedtime the last two nights? In a row?

Flexible lady, that one.

But, again, did no one notice how longsuffering she was to do her job, not once but two nights? Back to back? And to live amidst this perpetual clusterfluffle of a house without bolting?

Partnering with this inflexible woman is not a 90 minute swedish massage. Partnership with a chronically inflexible partner--it requires a long patience.

But becoming more flexible is a frightening prospect for this inflexible wife. What if others take advantage? What if she is always expected to be flexible? What if flexibility paints her a doormat? Oh sure, that's fine, haha! Why don't you just go ahead and cancel my plans. I don't matter, haha....

The terms of flexibility can be daunting, especially for a woman who grew up with a sibling with autism. Dinner at six o'clock sharp, on the table, or an all-out Rain Man meltdown might ensue. There was rigidity in her upbringing. Trying to stay the course, stay on schedule, not make waves. Be a good big sister, a leader, upstanding. Don't compromise who you are.

But what if compromise is required in life, especially in marriage? What does that look like? Are there equal gains for everyone? Can you make her a guarantee?

The dance of the flexible is one that the woman is learning, first with her right foot and then with her left. She is wobbly, unsure, wanting so much to trust her partner. Slowly she finds...this dance is not all bad. She finds it is harder to bust out and do a solo dance, but together, with her partner, she is stronger and more graceful. Very graceful, the dance of the flexibile.

As she becomes more sure of the rhythm and the steps, the more she practices, the better she becomes. Way out there on the dance floor, she finds others, dancing the dance of the flexible.

Oh but have mercy because being a beginner is still, still so hard.

Anyone else a beginner out here with me?

8 Thoughts I Have Whilst Getting a Pedicure

1. Why is it that there's always a leader man of the pack working the nail salon? Why is there a whole den of she-manicurists but only one he-manicurist and he's the only one who talks to customers? I'm not trying to disrespect hierarchy here, but I've entered my fair share of nail salons and there is always Just One Guy and so many women working there, and The Guy is Always the One Who Talks to Customers First. Who decides this and what would happen if there were more than One Guy? 2. Did I tell someone that I needed a pedicure? Because I didn't mean to say I need. I meant want. Children in The Sudan need food and water. I just kinda want not to have the toenails of a pegasaurus.

3. Do pedicurists always tell you that you picked out a "nice color"? Like they work 40+ hours a week in the nail salon but they needed you, you super sleuth of the OPI rainbow, to pick out such a nice color. Because this happens to me every time and I'm all high-fiving myself for being such an outstanding color curator and then I think, Nawwww! They say that to all the girls!

4. When the pedicurist pulls out the scraper that is most likely a cheese grater and starts rubbing it against your foot, why does it feel so crazy ticklingly good?

5. Why does someone like I (who lives a pretty sedentary life), who does not work in a factory or run across hot coals on the regular, need to have her feet scraped with a cheese grater?

6. What would happen if the Department of Motor Vehicles and a nail salon teamed up and while you waited in the interminable line to get your driver's license renewed, you could be getting a spa pedicure???

7. Would it be reasonable to vote for someone whose campaign platform included access to affordable, clean pedicures for all?

8. Is it okay to tip 10% for a pedicure? Someone just took a cheese grater to my foot--I feel like the tip could go either way?

Would you like to donate a dollar to the...

Is it just my particular geography or singular luck that for the past month, EVERY transaction (with the exception of a self-check-out) is punctuated with a twinkly-eyed 17 year-old asking me if I'd like to tack on a dollar for the Good Samaritan Charity?  Surely I am not alone in this? Is it National Non-Profit Passive Fundraising Month everywhere? Because it's starting to give me a complex. And I am pretty pro-philanthropy, as much as someone who is probably a philanthropic cause herself can be. This add-a-dollar-on is starting to add up, however. The teenage cashier is all, I have this script, and I'm all, Yeah, I know it's a script, but it's the Children's Miracle Network. Who says NO to making a miracle happen for a child that only costs a dollar? Teenager is like, Oh, thank you SO much, like I just helped her make a donation quota and now she doesn't have to clean out the McNugget crumbs from the Playland tonight because she met her quota, and I'm all, You're so welcome. 

But then I'm at Bi-Lo on the very same day, and the disaffected teenager cashier is asking me if I want to donate to the Safe Harbor House, and then suddenly this is not even a question of economy or philanthropy, this is a test of gravity where the once disaffected teenager is peering into my soul, knowing full well that I just spent $.99 on an iTune mp3 of "Build me up, Buttercup" by The Foundations when I could have just listened to it ad infinitum on YouTube, but noooo, I just had to possess it for my very own, and now this teen is looking at me and waiting for me to say YES or NO I WILL NOT GIVE ONE WHOLE DOLLAR to the Safe Harbor House BECAUSE I'M A WRETCHED PERSON who spends her money frivolously on iTunes. And the teen is like, Okay, then your total comes to $14.39.

But what I really want to say back to this teen who can't wait to bag my root vegetables and go on his government-mandated 30 minute break is that the thirties are very hard, especially when you thought you were going to get a big payoff from your "investment property" and then you learn about what a real estate bubble really is, and you don't end up making a profit but actually running a total deficit, and that the real irony of all of this is that I'M ALSO LOOKING for a Safe Harbor House.  The teen cashier is already on his break reading a back issue of USWeekly in the break room as I grab my groceries and I want to bawl for all the people who are looking for their Safe Harbor.

*** Later I find a dollar in a compartment of our car and buy my daughter a cherry slush from Sonic. As I'm rejoicing that I found this gratuitous Benjamin in our vehicle, the drive-through cashier asks me if I'd like to add a dollar for the Children of Hope Fund.