The Dreaded Question. My Name is Long. Convoluted. Some would Say Pretty. I’ve Come to Terms with It. It is French, After All. I Adore All Things French.
So the Spelling…Jeannine….is Tricky for Even the Brilliant.
Starbucks can be Tricky.
“Can I have your name please?” …”Sure…it’s Jeannine..”…
The Barista stares without comprehending for a moment at the screen trying to imagine the spelling. The inevitable question becomes, “Can you spell that?”. “okay, so J….”…”G?”…”No, J…”. And So It Begins.
Sometimes I just say “Janine.” That seems easier.
Today I had an Epiphany.
I, on a whim, decided to say “Susan.” It was Brilliant. No Questions Asked. No Spelling Needed. Win! I Felt a Giggle well up in my tummy. Humour on Monday Morning. Win! A Chance to Practice My Memory Skills by having to Actively Listen for “Susan” and responding in kind instead of Just Crickets as the barista stares and motions with the drink. You know, the “two pump” I call it. The double nod and the double fist pump as they try to entice you out of your reverie and forward to grab the drink you ordered. WIN!!
So today, it’s Susan. Tomorrow it’ll be Chris. If they ask me if its a C or a K…that’s still easier than…”there’s two n’s in the middle?”…”oh so like Jean-nine…!!”…
Yep, thanks Parents…love you so much, but honestly the name is a pain in the pahoukie (behind in Hawaiian)
Walking through the atrium to work yesterday, a Beautifully Dressed Man Broadly Smiled at Me. Touched To My Core by Its Genuine, I Smiled Back. Walking a Few Steps Away, I heard him start to Cheerfully Whistle a Contemporary Hymn. It Reverberated off the Granite Walls of the Atrium. My Eyes Filled with Happy Tears as My Steps Slowed. My Heart Melted.
The Hymn my Children used to Sing when they were Little at Assemblies …
“Bless the Lord, Oh My Soul…Oh My Soul, Worship His Holy Name…Sing Like Never Before, Oh My Soul, Worship His Holy Name…
I Stayed with my Back to Him, My Footsteps had Stopped. There was a Moment of Stillness in that Atrium. I will Remember That Moment til My Last Breath. I Don’t Know Who He is, But He Has My Honour. My Respect. My Gratitude.
I Felt Touched By an Angel…in a Beautifully Tailored Suit and a Broad Grin.
I slept Like a Log last Night. Unable to Shower, I Decided to Distract Unfortunate Passersby from my Bed Head with a Loud Skirt. Long. Puffy. Color Blocked.
The Cabbie Liked It. A Gentleman with a Cane as I Hurried My Just Sprung Out of Bed Behind into Banker’s Hall Liked it. Beautifully Tailored Suited Men Liked It. A little Girl in a Red Jacket Liked it. My Boss was Speechless Over It.
Let’s Just Say it Was a Hit.
So Lesson Learned. Big Bold Fashion Statements when the Hair is More Than Usual Disheveled and the Sleep is Still Being Wiped From Your Eyes.
Love Y’all. You’re One More Fashion Tip Overloaded.
A group of Female Lawyers are Playing Poker for United Way. It’s really Quite Adorable. There’s a lot of Explaining for the Dealer. A lot of Clutching Cards in Well Manicured Nails. A lot of Horn Rimmed Glasses and Small Printed Blouses. I’ve Come to Love These Women. Corporate Female Lawyers are Very Strong. Highly Intelligent. Wonderfully Kind. Levelheaded. Patient.
There’s Something in the eyes of Dedication. Studious. They know how to Endure to the End Game. Self Propelled. Disciplined.
It’s Really True Gorgeousness.
Thank You to Brilliant Female Lawyers. Your Giggles and Your Earnest Kindness Spoke Volumes to Me.
My Apologies to All Wonderful Genevieves in the World.
Yesterday my Beautiful Daughter Grace said, ” Mom, your Genevieve is Out.” As much as it made me Cry Tears of Laughter, I don’t Like Genevieve. She’s an Alter Ego of mine. Or maybe it’s just Ego. My Ego.
My Kids have a Name for Her. She’s Pretentious. Judgmental. Quick to Offense. She even holds her purse a Certain way. Clasping her hands at her upper chest. Her nose is even slightly higher than normal. She’s Impatient. Superficial. She’s Really Rather Ridiculous.
I’ve Learned to Laugh at Her. Quickly Usher her to where she Belongs. Under the Control of Spirit. I only Like Myself under the wonderful control of the Spirit. Gentle. Happy. Supportive. Kind. Longsuffering.
I love that Genevieve Never Goes Away. She’s always there reminding me of My Potential to Be Kinda Awful. To Humble Myself to the Control of the Spirit.
Labouring to always make sure Genevieve stays working the Broom Closet for the Rest of my Days. She’s One Pompous Jerk.
Heaven is a place where Connectedness is All Important. Where One’s Self and the Eternal and Our Fellow Citizens are One. It states we all have our Separate Bodies, but we are One in Our Spirit. No Divisiveness. No Hierarchy. No Status.
Because of this, Heaven doesn’t Appeal to Everyone. Those who Love Place and Status would find Heaven Dull. Some People Find Power more important than Pleasure. Or that at the very least Power Synonymous With Pleasure.
So Today in Order to Grow to Heaven (Yes, I meant Grow) I want to Start Understanding the Oneness of Our Souls. Our Connectedness. I want to Learn to Weep when you Weep and Laugh when you Laugh. To truly not see Race. Colour. Status. Personalities. Affirmity. Hierarchy. But to See Beautiful Humanity. And the Richness that we Enjoy when we Feel Completely Connected to Every Soul we Meet. Every Stranger we Pass. Every Child whose eyes meet ours for a moment.
Nothing is Sweeter than Connectedness. Nothing Creates More Suffering when we are Divided.
Both Words are being used around the office describing Thanksgiving on the weekend.
“It was nice, you know…Pretty Standard…”
“Oh yeah, it was Super Special this year…”
And when it comes to Traditions, Standard is, in my opinion, Special. It’s Standardly Special to have Mom’s Stuffing Recipe. Squash because it was Dad’s Favourite. Ambrosia Salad because what is Thanksgiving Dinner without the cheesy tacky marshmallow cherry salad?