Lessons in Yoga

Brought to you by fake nails. Ten of them.

Reasons to take The Damn Yoga. In no particular order.

Increased energy.
Roman sat down next to me yesterday and when I complained about being so tired thinking I might be pregnant which is impossible since it requires sex he asked, “Maybe it’s that hot flash thing?”

Camaraderie.
I walked up to someone’s desk this week and said, “You didn’t help me pick music so Saturday, you can ZIP IT.” That’s not in most teambuilding books.

Step Relations.
My Stepmother. Even looking at her made me ill this past Sunday. She doesn’t like me and I’m doing my best to love her. I think Yoga would make me adore her. All those endorphins and “I Think My Stepmom Is The Bomb” type feelings will come rushing in when she looks me up and down. I just know it.

Traffic Safety.
I’m certain the practice will center me more and my frequency of hitting cement poles will lesson. And, rather than brake checking close drivers like my niece advises, I will continue to get out of my car and tell drivers to CHILL. Still hoping they are not packin and thus yoga attenders as well.

General Overall Peace, Love and Coleness.
I need this. The sound of someone getting their fake nails filed (who still does that?) makes me want to run into oncoming traffic. That’s when you know you need The Damn Yoga. And when you call it The Damn Yoga instead of Yoga, that’s when you really need The Damn Yoga. I can feel the deep breaths already.

Where’s my mat? I lose it every six months or so. Think it’s under the kitchen sink. Still wish I could spray paint it brown.

Human, full of flaws and moments I wish I was better and not worse,
Cole

Lessons from Toys 'R' Us

Brought to you by Play-Doh and the smell of it squishing between your adult fingers.

I was on the hunt for the perfect, huge doll house to hold down 1000 balloons Friday night for an event Saturday which is the way I do things.  I wait until the night before or the moment before and try to make perfection happen. 

Toys 'R' Us was all out of perfect, huge doll houses.  They had lots of small, lovely, dainty ones and pretty, delicate, tiny ones that would break if you looked at them wrong.  Those type don't hold down 1000 balloons.  They cry in the corner at the thought of 1000 balloons.

Still, I learned a couple things during my Toys 'R' Us visit.

1.  Middle aged men should probably not roam the store smelling of beer and hovering in the Barbie aisle.  Can you say creepy and cops are on the way?
2. If you are single and childless or have long since entered a toy store of this sort, follow a parent-type in.  They know the entrances from the exits and will help you from looking like a jacka**.
3. Toy stores are not really intimidating.  Simply think of them like giant Targets but with sirens and eternal supplies of batteries.
4. Everybody needs a pink Barbie microphone.  (I'll be right back.)
5. If you see a stuffed hippo sitting all by himself, yes him, it is your duty to save.  Try not to talk to Jack, yes Jack, in a loud voice for fear of someone taking you out in a straight jacket.
6. Play-Doh helps.  It helps in nearly any situation.  I gave some to a co-worker today that was having a tough go of things.  If you squish it between your hands and smell the Play-Dohness of it all, you'll begin to feel much better, much sooner than if you don't.  Promise.
7.  The woman in front of you in line that is melting down because she doesn't have her Toys 'R' Us Rewards card needs: to get a grip and wear denim shorts that cover her fifty year old a**.  (Wait a second while I light your cigarette.  Ugh.)
8. Don't get mad at the check out guy for asking Would you like batteries with your purchase? even if you don't need batteries for your stuffed hippo or your Play-Doh.  He's doing his job and following the sign and if he doesn't ask he's going to get written up so go along with it and thank him for asking.  Just play along, won't you?
9. Look.  Look at the six foot tall man made out of Legos and stop to stare at the new backpacks coming in just in time for Back to School and think about your excitment when you would pick out your backpack and how important that was and then, for a moment, spend some time bouncing a big, red, rubber ball, well, just because it's in that bin.  You don't have to pretend to be a child but you can still play.  No one said you can't.

Much play to you,
Cole

Lessons in Messy, Beachy Love

Brought to you by 1962 and 1963 for that matter. 

This shot was taken 48 years ago this summer.  It's my mom and my dad and one year before their wedding day, today.  Thinking back on their love.  Messy, beachy love.  Love that sometimes slammed doors and didn't talk in the morning but by midday couldn't stay away from each other sort of love.  Love that said I choose you even though sometimes I cannot stand you.  Love that went to the beach hating the sand because you were happiest there.  Love that lived at your bedside when you were ill.  Really ill. Like going home ill.  That sort of love. 

Missing my mother today but not nearly as much as my father is. 

Wishing you a love like that and then some,

Cole

Lessons in Details and Gratitude

Brought to you by a McDonald's large, not medium, Diet Coke.

It's Friday and the end of a very, ultra busy event week.  I have sore everything and things are throbbing that shouldn't throb.  On top of that, on a morning where I should bask in the glory of my amazingness, which is what I do the mornings after events, I had a press conference to stage.

*cursing under my breath and out of my bed which I did not want to get out of*

It's post press conference.  I park underground, come inside my apartment, kick off my heels and instantly feel grateful.  I mean grateful in the hugest way someone can feel grateful.  Grateful like empire state building or egyptian pyramid big grateful.  That grateful.  But it's for the little things.  The detail things.

Here's a couple I thought I'd share.

Feet free from four inch heels.  Large diet cokes when you normally get medium diet cokes - especially hot days with air conditionless cars.  Service managers that say, "I know others don't see but I see you - you have your eye on everything, Cole.  I see."  Sunglasses that shade harsh sun and brief frustrations.  Showing grace when I only want to show 'strangle'.  Home air conditioning set low and then lower again.  Mixing up all The Godfather movies to make my own synopsis.  Assistants that finish my sentences and understand my different head nods.  Men that remember.  Summers.  Being called a sexy, smart damsel in distress.  Working until my team stops working. Necklaces that turn into bracelets that turn into sometime belts. Tears that last three minutes instead of three days.  Sweaters.  Messy beachy hair.  Almost biting my nail but then not because things really are okay.  Little boys with summer tans that scrunch their noses when they answer you.  Girls that proclaim their favorite color is pink until their favorite color is green.  Oh, and nicknames.  I love a good nickname.

I like details.  I love the little things.  I'm enjoying this summer, this Can't Decide If I'm Going To Be Hot Or Cold Summer.  It's fickle.  I understand it.  It's sort of like a woman that way.  I get that.

Much love to you as you pay attention to the little details of your very big every days,
Cole

Lessons in Wills

Brought to you by the year 2003.    I wondered a bit on Twitter yesterday if Will would phone me from the airport as he headed out to Cairo.  You see, he always does that and normally the calls are full of him out of breath as he races for the check-in or sits down in his seat.  He generally runs late, Will does but he always, always phones me to say he's on the plane and to say goodbye and we have our chat about us.  That's just what we do, Will and I.

Things are changing though.  This trip to Cairo Will is getting married and not to me.  And you may wonder how my soul is resting with that.  I'll have to let you know Monday.  He's sending me the feed so I can watch him take his vows live.  A little twisted watching the former, first love of my life get married to someone else?  No, not at all.  When you love someone from the gut and know they aren't for you and that they are for someone else, you even want to be there for the big moments even if the big moments aren't for you. 

So my phone rings and it's Will and it's the last call he's going to make to me as "us".  You know...I'm not going to be first or even second probably not third on his phone anymore.  I'm sure I haven't been for sometime.  Still, he makes the call and it goes something like this:

Cole:  Are you on the plane?

Will: Seat 29. (Will is a nano engineer and likes to get to the point)

Cole: Really? You called.  You did.

Will:  Seat 29.  I told you.

Cole: What if I told you I loved you.  Would you change your mind?

Will:  Come on.  First of all, you're not in love with me.  Second, you're still a lion and the only benefit to marrying you is having white babies.  Maybe I should marry you.  (Will is Egyptian and desperately wants white babies)

Cole: What time is the ceremony?

Will: I'll send you the link.  You can watch it live.  I'll even wave goodbye to you.  (brutal, he is)

Cole: I love you. I love you.  I love you.  You gave me the best of everything.

Will:  Stop it.  I'm not dying.  Not til I marry this one anyway.  Then you two can fight over who speaks at my funeral.  No, Habibti, you gave me the best, first six years in America I could imagine.  I love you.  I'm going to bring The Wife (that's what we call her) to California and she's going to like you.  I'm going to make her like you.

I walked back inside my office and Miss Chloe, my assistant asked if I was okay.  With tears in my eyes, the only thought I can muster is I feel sentimental.  Not sad, not depressed, not regretful...full of memories and adoration for a man that helped raise me into a full pre middle age woman. 

I do less stomping of my feet because of you, Habibi.  I am calmer because of you.  I've been to places I never would have seen and met people I never would have met.  And learned a language that some see as so harsh but I hear such beauty in.  You opened my heart to another world and gave me a million memories that I'll paper someday. 

For now my heart is grateful, so grateful, for an airplane call.

Cole

Lessons in Crowds

Brought to you by sparklers and the joy of writing your name with one.

Sunday night and I had two fairly enticing options: go to Pacific Symphony's Firework event at Verizon Wireless Ampitheater or grab a bottle of wine, some very bbq-ish food, sit on the hood of my car and watch fireworks old school.

I did a little of both.  I'm sorta like that.

I like days that don't have much in the way of structure to them.  Come when you want and go when you want and have dinner when you want and eat macaroni and cheese with bacon when you want.  Those sort of days.  Today was one of them.  I finished with a perfectly greasy meal and, it being still light out, figured heading over to the ampitheater might be worth while.

It was. 

So, there was this perfectly lovely event and as it ended there were sudden mad dashes for the exit.  Rather than join the crowd, I sat back and...watched.

There are interesting things to see when you watch the crowd.

The Hand Gesturer.
He's standing in the midst of the crowd and melting down.  Though I do think he's talking to himself as a coping mechanism and I can completely appreciate that.  It's the hand gestures that make me wonder if he's going to pull a machete anytime soon and take out half of Orange County.  Keep thinking of happy, soft places, sir. You're almost out of the crowd.

Look at Me Guy.
He speaks loud enough for half of the crowd to hear him, "I'm SO glad we got the good seats and not the ones 30 rows back.  Aren't YOU?"  He sees me roll my eyes at him and quiets down a bit.  I'm not fond of The Loud having been one in my past life.

The Comedian.
Okay, my favorite.  Mid to late fifties, walking down the stairs and getting in the crowds, always looking for the laugh sort of guy.  He says, "I lost my wife, but that's okay.  If you find her you can have her."  His wife is right behind him rolling HER eyes. 

Sequined Hat Woman.
She's around 84 and is wearing a sequined top hat that has been sat on at least 37 times.  If you saw the way she wore it though you'd smile like I did.  She walks by me and I mention my admiration.  Her response, "It's old but I'm never going to stop wearing it."  When you're 84, the style rules no longer apply to you. 

(Please, please shoot me in the back of the head if I turn into a sequined top hat wearing old woman.  Please.)

No, this wasn't the same crowd as the Sting concert and there weren't waitresses coming by for my drink order and the line for the disabled shuttle was longer than the VIP drink line.  Still, I think the stories this crowd could tell would be richer any day.  At the end of the event, the conductor of the symphony honored the members of the armed forces by playing each of the marches.  As they played you saw young and old stand and reach across aisles to salute and nod at each other.  Nods full of layers.  Nods full of life.  Nods full of sacrifice and struggle and decisions. 

You get to wear a freakin' sequined top hat when you've sacrificed for your country.  And you get to talk to yourself in crowded lines that make you nervous when you've given years in service for our freedom.  And you get to make silly cracks at your wife's expense when you have to leave your country and work overseas.  And you get to talk overly loud.....well, no....you don't get to do that, sir.  You're still too loud. 

A big, sequined, sparkler written thank you.
Cole

Lessons in Names

Brought to you by The Cheesecake Factory.

Her name is Arden.  Did you know that?  And did you know she has a really cool job and the dress she wore yesterday was this beautiful fitted black thing, the kind you wear when you want to act like you don't want people to look at you but you really want them to look at you.

I didn't know any of that.

Her name is Arden.  And for all intents and purposes, she hated me.  Every encounter we had at one of my events was negative.  I was always asking her to leave the jacuzzi since we still had to tear down an event or take her alcohol outside because our caterer does not permit outside alcohol.  She used to just roll her eyes and walk away and then, one day, recently she stared at me with what could only be described as hatred.  I looked at her and said, "You really don't like me, do you?"  It's a rare thing for a person not to like me. 

Annoyed?  Sure.  Exhausted?  Of course.  Needing a break or vacation from All Things Cole?  Definitely. But not like?  That stings in ways that get to the heart.  I'm someone people like.  I'm a person to know.  Not in a fancy papparazi block my eyes from the cameras way but in a knowing way.

My birthday came around and the whole Cole's 38 Mitzvah Project thing started and Arden stayed on my mind.  Truthfully, I couldn't get her off my mind during this whole project.  I'm not okay with people being at odds with me, especially when my hearts intent, it's song is to love on people.  I kept trying to think of a way to talk to her but didn't know how or what to do. 

It happened.  As naturally as if it was ordained.  I was sitting in my office and looking at a gift card my family gave me and Arden walked by which she never does.  I asked her to come into my office.  The first thing I did was:

1. Ask her name.  How many people do we interact with and don't even take the time to know them by name?
2. Apologized for not knowing her name and for not getting to know her. She only knew me as the "rules" woman and not the woman.
3. Told her a little about me.  Engagement goes two ways.  If you want someone to let you in, you've got to let them in, too.
4. Ask forgiveness.  For being all about work and not about people.  For not doing this sooner. 
5. Gave.  I gave her the gift card and asked her to please have lunch on me. 

This sweet girl who had so much anger towards me...melted.  Literally melted.  Her shoulders dropped.  Her countenance shifted.  Her voice went from aggressive to soft and sweet.  She realized I was human and she realized I knew she was one, too.

There are a million reasons why our first reaction is anger or hurt or aggression and it takes time to sort through that, sure.  But when, if, you have the chance to push through to the side of love, I challenge you to do it.  You might get eye rolls or the silent treatment.  Or you might find an Arden with a soft, soft heart waiting for someone to find it.

Much love to you this early Summer day,
Cole