Pre Middle Age Love

(for all cole's content please visit premiddleage.com)

I’m not sure if it is love leaning against a shiny new 1960’s mustang with horn-rimmed glasses and a man that adores you.

Perhaps it’s the stoic sort of love that takes sunglasses and shades not the sun but the looks staring at a tear-stained face.

Or a door that either lets someone in or lets someone walk out.

But I love love. I love the messiness of it. I love the childlike excitement of it. I love the 1960ness of it. I love the grit of it in a strong woman that wants to be weak and a weak man that wants to be strong.

I love love. I love what it smells like in the morning and in the afternoon when it waits upon a call or a visit or a letter. And then evening love that comes with a moon and maybe some stars and the promise of kisses and whispers and tomorrows and todays and maybe much laters.

I love love. I love how it begins and I love how it ends and that it can take my very breath away with a glance or a thought or a sound or a memory.

In these years, these in between years. These years of not being young and not being old I take love and hold it tight and say yes to it and not no to it and am awed that it still chases after me and dares me
to…

Valentines Day 2011

shoes in my fridge.

(for all Cole's content, please follow along at premiddleage.com now, muahh!)

I phoned Will from outside the car dealership.

Me: It’s a Sunday. Can you talk? Just for a minute.

Will: What happened?

Me: She was just sitting there with her extra large sandwich and her cigarettes and threw the car application at me. What is WRONG with people?

Will: What are you doing looking at cars? We just talked about this. Just last month we talked about how great you are doing, habibi.

And then the tears came.

Me: I went to the movies last night and saw Another Year and thought it was about an old couple in love but it was about their single lady friend who looks just wretched and wrinkled and old. And she doesn’t keep food in her fridge….JUST LIKE ME.

Will: Okay.

Me: And she didn’t have a caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar! JUST LIKE ME.

Will: Ahh.

Me: *tears and more tears and then sobs and more sobs* And I don’t want a car but I left the theatre and knew I had to fill up my fridge with food just so people would think I was normal cause doesn’t everyone have more than orange marmalade, soy, one egg and December milk in their fridge? And then I drove by all the closed dealerships looking for a car cause I need a car so people don’t think…so they don’t think…so they don’t think…

Will: So they don’t think you’re almost forty with no car and no food in your fridge, habibi?

Me: *tears*

Will: You are great. You are doing great. Remember how you told me movies aren’t real life. That real life is real life? Well, real life is real life, Nicolia. (He calls me Nicolia especially when he wants to make a financial point) Nicolia, you are the one I tell people about when I talk about someone growing up. You are paying your debt, you are living on “bread and salt”, you are being a church mouse and within a year you can go back to getting anything you want.

I almost made a 20K purchase because of a feeling I had in a movie. Wonder how often we buy on feeling. Homes, cars, clothes, electronics for you men folk. I walked away from the dealership to get sound financial advice from a friend and thankfully came to my senses. Well, then I got a grilled cheese. Cause that helps, too.

I won’t tell Will about the new navy suede pumps I bought yesterday. Or the black snake skin ones, either. They were on sale. Well, and then an extra 40% off and a coupon on top of that so practically free if you really think about it.

I might put them in my fridge.

Much love,
Cole

What's Your View?

Brought to you by open doors.

I remember many New Year's Eve celebrations at my Mom and Pops.  My parents would head out for some party at some place with some group of couples and we would tuck in for the night at my grandparents.  I know there were warm tortillas filled with butter.  There was certainly neapolitan ice cream with the choice of vanilla, strawberry or chocolate since my grandmother wanted to make sure everyone was always pleased.  I'm sure there was a soft spot on a cool couch in a decked out basement of a huge home. 

The last night of the year wasn't about big memories or big moments or big realizations.  It was a small, silly, little celebration with some shouting and then some yawning and some rushing to bed at five after the hour.

But now, I'm grown up.  And the day is The Day.  And the night is The Night.  And the end of the year is The End of The Year.  And it's as simple as it is complicated.  I've learned things.  I've matured.  I've blown it some.  And then I've had some really big successes. 

I thought of listing a bunch of things I learned but you could browse through my blog any darn day and see a year's worth.  Today, what sums up This Today is that my view is the tree not the bus.

You see the bus ride.  I see the tree when the bus door opens.

You see a flat tire.  I see the stranger that stops to help.

You see me without a car.  I see living without debt and within my means and great adventures and bus rides and rental cars and new car smell and learning how to find the windshield wipers and Snarky Brother laughing at me when I don't know how to open yet another gas tank.

You see McDonalds.  I see a conversation with Ruth who desperately needs someone to listen to her stories.  Oh, and their Diet Coke is SO good. 

You see epilepsy.  I see firecrackers.  Uh, literally. And chance, and living like there's no tomorrow because there might not be.

You see my fabulous hair.  Well, it's just fabulous. 

You see no electricity.  I see a symphony of quiet.

You see a broken heart.  I see love peeking around the corner daring me to come out to play.

Sure, there are also parties and shopping and dates and kisses and lots of exciting things but my concern is, my thought is...are you seeing the bus or the trees in your life?  Are you taking the time to notice The Pretty?

Dear friend.  2011 is sitting right in your pretty little hands.  What's your view?

Much love to you at 9something on the last day of 2010. 

Cole

Cole's Christmas Card (say that three times fast)

Stories from Skid Row: The Christmas Story

Brought to you by Stories from Skid Row and a precious, little animated girl.
Can I be honest? Uh, when have I ever not been.

God tends to lay thoughts on my heart first thing upon waking each morning. Today was no exception. I heard and felt, "GIVE." It wasn't audible, no but it was heavy and clear and I knew more than I knew anything else today that giving was something I needed to do.

Being the me that I am, I didn't pick up my mail again and had to run to the post office to go get a stack THIS BIG. Thankfully, the lady at the post office handed it to me without judgement for my continued neglect of all things organization. I ran through letter after letter and ad after ad and catalogue after catalogue and came across a huge bill that I was not expecting.  THIS HUGE.

Kick in the gut. Especially during the holidays. Especially when you're in the middle of spending money on book marketing things of the book marketing sort.

I sat at the post office and wept. And not only wept but said to God, "I'm just about done. I've had it. I'm done."  How do you give when you have no money to give? 

And then, I saw this video. There's this sweet little girl with her long hair that makes me cry just thinking about how much she reminds me of me when I was her age. No, I didn't have the long locks til later in life but we share the same animation for all things Jesus and nativity sets. Wait til you see her throw gold and spray perfume. Your heart will melt.

She may not have a bill to pay. Her needs are much greater. She needs shelter and food and warm blankets and the love of people that say, "You matter!" Suddenly, this bill seems terribly insignificant.

Many, many of you have been hit hard with these financial times. And you're paying things and altering your life to live within your means instead of outside your means and I am walking right along side you. I know sometimes it is not easy. Today though. Simply today, remember it's much, much easier than this sweet little girl has it.

And yet in the midst she rejoices in a nativity scene and a promise.

Much love to you as we continue to learn from the very young and very wise,
Cole

What I Wanted to Say.

Brought to you by $3.17 a gallon which I cannot believe seems like a good deal to me.

I was on my way back to take my rental, oh by the way hi...so I was on my way to take the rental back to Enterprise when I realized I needed to fill up the tank so I didn't pay $1,732.99 per gallon to fill it up. 

I'm learning in my old age.  You men are impressed, aren't you?  Continuing... 

So, I go to fill up the car, get out, put my debit card in and do the whole waiting at the gas tank thing that we all do when I noticed the "Push To Speak With Attendant" button.  I stared at it.  I wanted to press it.  Badly.  No, I mean not in the way where you want to ask a question for assistance but in a sort of "Hi, how are you today?  I don't really need help but thought I'd say hi way."  You know.  Like that way. 

I kept looking at the button and then looking inside to see who might answer my request and then wondering if they would call the Crazy Police on me for pressing it for a non gas emergency reason.  Though not certain if one can be ticketed for pressing the help button I didn't want to take a chance.  I'm trying to be responsible and all those sort of pre middle age things. 

Still, what I wanted to do was press it and say hi.

And even this evening.  The grandma that hurt herself last week at the corner market stopped by my office and wanted to thank me for sitting with her until the paramedics came.  She has limited english and I have limited faarsi and what she wanted to say she couldn't.  And what I wanted to say I couldn't.  What I wanted to say was, "I'm glad you're alive and I don't want you out walking around without help and I'm nervous something is going to happen to you and by the way WHERE IS YOUR SWEATER?" 

And my little, taller than me Snarky Brother.  I stopped by his work today and have missed him and felt this really huge need to rush up and hug him even though our family is not much of the hugging sort.  I saw him and he looked Snarky as ever and not in the hugging mood and what I wanted to say was, "I had another seizure last night and I'm so tired of them but just in case one of these is The Big One I want to hug you so that there will be a hug on the record and just deal with it."  I didn't.  I smiled and chatted about nonsense and walked away.

I should have pressed the button at the gas station and talked to the attendant.  Who knows if they were in utter turmoil at that very moment and I could have offered a gas station word of encouragement. 

I should have told the grandma to sit down and found her a blanket and loved on her a bit instead of nodding my head and smiling and having pleasantries that don't amount to much of anything.

And I should have hugged my brother and then called The Elder and told him how very much I love him.  Just because and just in case and just cause that's what you should do rather than not doing it.

What I wanted to say to you all is that I'm indebted to you for reading my words and for loving on me and caring and finding joy and some understanding from the details of my life.

Much love to you as you find the things you want to say and then say them,
Cole

Lessons in Love and Epilepsy

Brought to you by last night's insane seizure and today's fabulous nap.


I was just thinking how it's been SO long since my last seizure and even the last one was SO minor I could barely feel it and aren't I becoming the epilepsy poster child? 

Not so much.

Last night was an ass kicking of sorts.

And no one is to blame except for me.  Give me the epilepsy ticket if they are in the Giving Tickets Out sort of mood.  I have been going to sleep at 4am working way too late on my book.  I missed taking my medicine one night which is one night too many when you have seizures.  I had (a beer).  Shh.  Don't tell my dad.  Yes, I think many people with epilepsy drink on occasion but, for me, since I'm not much the drinker it doesn't set well with my brain.  Oh, and there was that half glass of champagne the night before.  And I think I had red wine somewhere on Sunday.

Don't tell my dad ANY of that.  Yes, I know I'm 38.

So, it was the perfect storm and I should have seen it coming when that dog staring out the back of that wagon Volvo at McDonald's locked eyes with me and wouldn't move away.  Dogs know about seizures the way people don't.  He knew even though I thought he was a she but then looked down and saw things hanging that were clearly of the he type.  The dog knew.  It crossed my mind that I knew.  I went about my day and stayed up late again and didn't even think last night could have been MY last night.

It was a big one.  My brain shuddered.  I kept my breathing even.  Did all the things I know to do but then my damn face turned into the pillow Flo-Jo style.  Remember her?  Long nails, Olympic athlete.  Well, without the nails or the running or the cool outfit I was her for a moment and I didn't want my face in a pillow with no ability to move.  I wanted a clear passage to breathe through this seizure until it ended. 

It felt like it would never end.

It did.  I lived.  I quickly fell back asleep out of an exhaustion most cannot imagine.  When I awoke in the morning I did the first post seizure thing I always do - checked to see if I knew what year it is and went through the past presidents.  Clinton's in office, right? Check.  Knew 'em.  Brain still semi-intact.

And then I wept. 

I wept for being alive.  Wept for having my face smothered in a pillow.  Clearly you should know that makes me not a fan of The CSI's.  Wept for almost not living.  Wept for people that don't.  Wept for those that have seizures in the middle of crowds.  Wept for being alone through it and being grateful no one had to go through that scare with me.  And wept that God gave me another day, even if just one more, to be a better me than I was yesterday.

My friend Red sent me a message and wants me to stop using pillows.  My brother said the same.  I've thought about it but I've made a decision.  I'm not going to live a life without pillows.  It's sort of like love, you know?  Yes, a pillow could smother me that one time...that one night but the rest of the time it's so damn comfy and brings great pleasure to my life.  I don't want to live in fear with my head flat on the ground.

And love.  Sure, it could smother me sometimes, too.  That one time and that one night and the one man that breaks the heart might not be worth the pain but I don't want to spend my life without love in fear. I'll still search it out and be open to it and say yes to it.

I decided some time ago to say yes and not to say no to things.  I decided to take adventures and have a YES life.  Is there a chance it could end up bad?  Yup.  I'll take the chance anyway.

Pillow.  Love.  Any of it. 

Much love and gratitude for one more day to love and learn and change and grow and be something better,
Cole

October Lessons

Brought to you by candy, of the sweet sort.

It's been an interesting fall, hasn't it?  Today was warm and yesterday, while setting up for our event, I was shielding my face from the sun in the hopes of adding not one more brown spot to this pre middle age face.  I'm not sure how successful I was.  I might start wearing a bag over it so if you see me and I don't wave, well, now you know why.

An interesting fall it has been and even a better October full of bits of learnings and lessons and things I didn't know and now I do.  And I don't mean know in a BIG way but in that small tucked into your brain way that hopefully gets to the juicy parts and does the right amount of damage.  You know?  Makes change, bit by bit. 

I learned...

1. If a woman comes up to you, in a witch costume, beer in hand and starts yelling at you take it with a grain of witch-beer-infused salt.  She's probably a little intoxicated and even though all of her meanness comes out in her heightened beer state and that witch costume might just be Business Casual and not for Halloween, chances are she didn't mean to curse you, your future children or children's children.

2. Saying sorries a decade later is good.  Saying them in a year is better.  Saying them in a month is really good.  The same week or day? Rather brilliant.  Imagine if you apologized immediately after making an ass out of yourself, you know, the very next moment?  That would be downright emotionally mature.  Plus it feels good to say sorry when you tell your bartender to, "Get this effin bar together.  Now!"  Yes, that was me.  Ugh.

3. Take responsibility.  If you screw up, don't lay blame elsewhere.  Own it.  Not more than your part and not less than your part, just your part.  Be the exact opposite of every politician you know and forget about putting spin on your story.  Simply, say, "I blew it but I'm going to try not to blow it again."  How quickly we could move on if we'd take some ownership instead of mastering spin.

4. Share.  Try your absolute hardest to think of someone before yourself.  I saw grown adults maul a candy bar and little kids stand there with empty trick or treat bags.  That's not right, folks.  If you look around you, see - you there looking to the right and to the left - there are other people besides you.  Notice them and include them and think of them when you are filling your bag to the brim.  I think our bags are filled to the brim in many ways and can be shared with someone else.  Who needs your share?

5. Talk to strangers.  I don't mean in that sordid pedophile way.  I mean talk to a stranger that is ten feet away from you and you've nodded at or waved to or thought of saying more than a hi or bye with for months.  Those strangers.  Have conversations that last longer than a sound bite.  Ask someone about their day or their life or their greatest love.  Imagine what you'd find out if you took the time to meet someone new.

6. Hot chocolate helps.  It helps everything.  Well, when it's 83 degrees out it's a little strange but on most October days if you'll trust me and order it and add whip cream even though that will be so anti-wellness of you, it will help everything.  You'll feel better and younger and you'll remember you from back when you were...you.

7. Like your likes.  My niece Kristina just got her license which technically means she could drive when we go to LACMA but I'm not much of the "driving with a brand new driver on the freeway" sort of girl.  I think if you get the blessing of having children then you get the blessing of their freeway firsts, too.  So, Darling Girl wants to Museum Hop with me which makes me ultra happy and as we chatted I realized her tastes in art are very different than mine.  I like that.  I don't need her to like my likes.  Are you liking your likes?  I hope so.

I ended today at a wake celebrating the life of a dear family friend.  Ninety-six years of life lived by a woman that chose to be full of grace and full of civility and showed love and kindness each time I encountered her.

That's my goal.  I want that in my life.  Bits of learning and changes and growth and being less like today and more like I want to be tomorrow. Oh, that's the plan anyway. Sometimes I blow it and sometimes my days are a smashing success. Today, well, today was a good one.


Much love to you as we peak our heads around the corner at November,
Cole

Lessons in Secrets

Brought to you by things my mother told me never to do and the fall, 'cause I like it.

My mother always said we could never
1. Get a tattoo.  I didn't and then she died so I never can.
2. Take out gum at church and certainly never in public unless "you have enough to share with everyone".  Everyone is a lot of damn people.
3. Whisper.  She hated whispering and to this day I do, too.  Whispering oozes of things you want to say to one person and not to many persons.  Whispering is about things that are private.  I'm much more the public sort. 

And to be honest, this past month has been a brainful.  So, until I could gather the thoughts in my pretty, dirty blonde, roots showing head I felt it best to stay on the silent side of things. 

The secret is though....the whisper in your ear though....the thing you know though is that there are things that sit heavy on my heart and for today, I'll share the ones that comes easily to mind:

I'm embarrassed for complaining about not having a car for two weeks, getting a rental today and then seeing a homeless man riding a bicyle with his belongings.  I'm tearing up now thinking about how ungrateful I sounded this past 14 days.  I have a beautiful, safe home and heat and water and sometimes electricity when I remember to pay the bill.  And there is food to eat and people to check on me.  And seeing a man near 80 years old quietly riding his dilapitated bicycle loaded with the contents of his life made me shudder.  I'm sad tonight about that.  It's not okay and being unsettled about it is good.

At my very core, I'm brilliantly scatterbrained.  I could start a million companies and, more than likely, at least ten more tonight with a good cup of hot chocolate in hand.  It wouldn't do you or me or anyone else any good.  I don't like that about me.  I want to do one thing well and then maybe add a second thing. 

I'm sort of selfish.  Yah.  I've been tired of late.  I've wanted Me Time and not You Time and finally understand when people have asked the same of me.  Occassionally you just need to put the "Closed For Business" sign up and mine is going up more often than it used to.  For sanity, for business, for the sake of growing a personal life that sometimes bleeds into a very public life, I need to once in awhile put up the sign.  I hope you'll love me in spite of that.  I hope you'll trust I'll come back more energized when I open for business each time next. 

I get frustrated.  I was sitting at Happy Nails getting a pedicure today and a grown daughter and her mom were sitting side by side completely ignoring each other on their mobiles.  On the rare occassion they would say something to each other but it was limited.  Then they would go back to their phones.  I wanted to scream, "Tell each other you love each other!  Say you're mad.  Say you're happy.  Say something!"  I wonder sometimes if it's better if I simply pick up a magazine and disengage but I'm not sure how to once I've put my life in Drive.

Those are some of my secrets.  The only time my mom said it was okay to whisper was in libraries or, I guess, at funerals.  Definitely, most definitely it wasn't okay to whisper to tell a secret.  "What you have to say to her, you can say to everyone."

So...Everyone...I'm a human being but you already knew that.  And I love that you love me in spite of that.

A couple more lessons for the road, shall we? 
1. Imagine closing every door gently.  Say goodbye to The Slam.
2. Celebrate things like National Peanut Butter Cup Day. 
3. Bake rather than buy.  Your perfect is prettier than their perfection.
4. Read your pissy emails three times before you send them and delete them before you send them.  So, umm, don't send them.
5. Let people cut in front of you to build your patience.
6. Don't pick Pre Middle Age fights.  You're too Pre Middle Age old.
7. Sure, McNuggets are made out of chicken bone and chicken eyelid paste (allegedly) but try to find a better Diet Coke.
8. Men - learn to hold doors for women even if no one taught you to growing up.
9. Women - learn to let men hold doors for you even if no one taught you to growing up.
10. Be nicer.  Not meaner. 

Much love in the loudest non whisper I can muster on this sweet fall night,
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

38 Mitzvahs: Cole's Birthday Project

Brought to you by the numbers: 1, 16, 37 15/16 and almost forty!

It’s that time. That time when I turn another year closer to middle age but remain pre middle age. There are more wrinkles. More lessons. More bruises. Certainly more age spots. And for those of you that attempt to call them freckles, they aren’t. They are the same ones my Mamma had. Admit it.

I love it all because it means I’ve another year under my belt in being humbled and humiliated and humored. Another year of lessons and love and life. Another year of learning and listening. Another year of setting down stones instead of throwing them.

Growing up sucks sometimes but if it means when I’m 83 I’ll finally be nice and graceful and kind and perhaps a bit wise, well, then, what the hell…I’m in.

THE PROJECT.
Rather than getting presents, I’m requesting and challenging you to perform ONE MITZVAH, one act of kindness, by June 16 in honor of my birthday. My goal is for 38 acts of kindness to be performed. Really, I’m hoping for many more but I like themes. (I’m an event planner.)

Some things people did last year for our project:
Bought a homeless woman breakfast. Put an extra special snack in their kids lunch. Babysat for a couple so they could go out. Gave money to a charity. Bought coffee at Starbucks for strangers. Paid an elderly couples dinner tab anonymously. Forgave. Asked forgiveness.

Join me? Forward this link to your friends? Giving everyday is beautiful but if you’d give for my birthday that would really bless me and bless someone else and probably bless you, too.  Share and we’ll post what happens from Twitter, My Blog and Facebook.

Much love from an almost forty year old
(37 15/16 sounds so much better),
Cole