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MOTHER-OF-THE-BRIDE MINDFULNESS

Do you know what I discovered this week?  In a little over a month’s time, I will turn seventy years old.  (Say what?!) I know—how the hell did I end up here?  Friends of long ago are beginning to die off, hip and knee replacements are de rigueur among my set, and most women my age and older would like to strangle the man who discovered Viagra because we all thought “The War Against our Dry Desert Nether Regions” would end in our septuagenarian years (original joke tribute to the great Robin Williams—God rest his soul).  I’m not sayin’ me and my man are there yet; I’m just sayin’ what the 70 plus sistas are confessing to me after a couple glasses of wine.

Anyway, my life is slip-sliding away and what consumes my waking hours?  Donald Trump.  No, that’s not completely true.  What is consuming me is the way certain factors of the Christian church (Evangelical Right-Wing Christians) have gone all in for this devil and placed him at the right hand of God—just a little lower than Jesus Christ as they daily shout: “Trumpee,  Trumpee, you’re our man—if you can’t save us, no one can.”

Evangelical worship Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT

Cartoon used by permission: Pat Bagley The Salt Lake-Tribune, UT

They seem willing to excuse any egregious behavior on Trump’s part, assuring that his base will keep him in political power for the long haul rather than call him into accountability.  In the meantime, I keep watch and pray that God will save us—deliver us from this man and his minions.  But it is beginning to dawn on me that, like all the other times the Christian church has been on the wrong side of history (Crusades, pogroms, slavery, Civil War, segregation, Nazism, Apartheid, Jim Crow, Rock-and-Roll, and Elvis Presley), God is on holiday and this is not going to end soon—or well—because Evangelical Right-Wing Christians wouldn’t know the real Jesus if he came back and shared a fish sandwich with them by the River Jordan.

Evangelicals 1 Bob Englehart Middletown CT

Cartoon used by permission: Bob Englehart, Middletown, CT

In the meantime, the chaos caused by our Liar in Chief (2000 false or misleading statement in first 355 days in office according to the Washington Post) consumes my every waking moment.  It does so because I’m addicted to the news.  I claim it is because I need to keep in the “know” in order to write my blog.  In reality, I’m trying to maintain control by looking for the moment my fellow believers “get woke” and do the right thing by abandoning the Trump ship. Unfortunately, this is not a Hollywood movie, so my chances of seeing an immediate and conclusive happy ending is pretty nil, and I’m not getting any younger.

Therefore, I’ve put myself on a news “diet.”  (I know I’ve said this before, but this time I mean it!)  I’ve relegated the news to an hour or so via the TV in the morning to catch the headlines, and then I’m done.  (Have you ever noticed how the news keeps featuring the same headlines all the damn day long while coupling them with the reporters’ conjectures and fears, which causes me such anxiety that it gives me endless heart palpitations?)  If anything happens after my morning download, I’m sure I’ll hear about it eventually because “good news can wait; bad news will refuse to leave.”  I need to do this because my obsession with the sell-out of my faith is causing me too much anxiety and I’m missing the best parts of my life while inching closer to the grave every day.  I keep waiting for God to show up, but the dude really seems to be on vacation in a universe far, far away.

I’m returning to meditation (5 to 10 minutes a day) and I’m turning my heart, soul, and mind to the family event that deserves all my Trump-free attention:  Baby-girl is getting married this summer!  I want to live in every minute of this momentous occasion because who knows how long I get to hold onto my short-term memory as I start the slip-n-slide into the grave (May it not be anytime soon, thank you Jesus, hallelujah, amen).  I already know I’m going to be an emotional wreck at the wedding, so I need to put plans into gear that will help me absorb everything about the occasion.

MOTHER OF THE BRIDE CRYING

Cafepress.com/funny wedding invitations

First and foremost, my mother-of-the-bride dress is being made next month (it was supposed to be constructed in May, but I put it off another month), and I’ve been so focused on the stupidity happening with Trump and my sell-out fellow Christians that I’ve fallen well behind my weight-loss goals.  So I added kettle bell weight lifting (a form of torture invented by the Russians in 1704) right after my daily meditation to hasten my slenderizing quest.  I just started the kettle bells and I will not tell a lie:  it is not going well.  At each session, I start out with the best intentions but half-way through I lose interest or energy, and I don’t know why.  Wanting to live in the moment and keep it 100%, I decided to record my sessions so that I could analyze them and course-correct myself.  I exercise along with a DVD that is headlined by a seven-foot Nordic blond bimbo who doesn’t have a fat cell in her DNA, but I keep telling myself if I just keep on keeping on, I’ll look like her in time enough for the wedding this summer.  I refuse to be a fat mother-of-the bride. Below is a transcript of what I recorded—maybe you can figure out where I’m going wrong.

BIMBO:  Let’s get started with some basic warm ups. Suck in that core; tuck in that butt, and let’s get this party started!

ME:  Bimbo-lady, I am ready to do this thing.  I relegated Morning Joe to one hour—tops.  I’ve meditated on all my blessings for ten minutes, and I’m going to call Baby-girl later today to find out how her wedding dress fitting went so we can savor that moment together.

BIMBO:  Alrighty then…Lift up your smaller kettle bell and swing.  Squeeze that booty.  Lift those knees!  PUSH IT!  Count of sixteen, then eight, then four.  Now repeat!

ME:  Ah, excuse me…Bimbo lady, I hear a “ping” on my cell phone.  Could be my grandson.  Maybe it’s an emergency.  Let me put you on pause for a moment.  I’ll get right back to you ASAP—I promise.  What’s this?  It’s not my grandson…it’s a news alert:  EVANGELICALS STUBBORNLY CLINGING TO SUPPORT OF TRUMP WHILE WALKING A TIGHT ROPE OVER THE FLAMES OF HELL.

Evangelicals John Cole PoliticalCartoons com

Cartoon used by permission: John Cole, PoliticalCartoons.com

ME:  Sorry, Bimbo-lady, it won’t happen again.  I’ll try to concentrate.  I really did think it was an emergency message from my darling boy.

BIMBO:  Let’s pick up our heavier weight and start to swing between our legs and up over our heads.  This should feel really good right now, so let’s go for broke.  JUMPT IT! MOVE IT! GET THAT BODY MOVING!!

ME:  (God, this feels like torture.  Help me, Jesus!)

BIMBO:  Don’t give up on me now.  Up and down—down and up. The lower you go, the more muscle you’re building, and the more calories you’re burning.  Swing from the hips.  How low can you go?  Squat that butt—squeeze those glutes.  MOVE THOSE HIPS, PEOPLE!

ME:  [Gasping for air] Wait a minute, Bimbo lady.  I heard another “ping” on my phone.  This could be one of my kids needing my sage advice.  Let me put you on hold.  Oh, noooo!  It’s another news flash:  KANYE WEST OPENLY DECLARES HIS LUST FOR DONALD TRUMP—SAYS TRUMP IS WORTH LOSING HIS SOUL TO DO SO.  UPDATE TO FOLLOW AS WE GATHER MORE DETAILS OF A BLACK MAN GOING ROGUE.

Kanye West Rick McKee The Augusta Chronicle GA

Cartoon used by permission:  Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle, GA

ME:  Sorry, Bimbo-lady.  It won’t happen again.

BIMBO:  Are you slouching those shoulders?  How low can you go?  Don’t quit on me now.  4 more, 3 more, 2 more, 1 more…This feels soooo good, doesn’t it?  LET’S GO AGAIN!  I COULD DO THIS ALLLLLLL DAY!

ME:  Shit! Uh, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow Bimbo-lady.  I just got a Charlie-horse in my ass from the last squat. I think I’ll crawl over into a corner and meditate some more or maybe grab a snack if I can ever walk again.

Living in the Moment FB

Courtesy of the FB page of Melanie Mayo-Laakso

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ELEANOR’S SELAH (“AHA”) MOMENT

I am discovering that I need to turn off the news notifications on my phone as well as the TV because just when I think I’ve gotten out of the news madness and calmed my mind, those phone “pings” suck me right back in.  We are in our current national madness for the long-haul with all of its chaos, lies, and delusional Christian sycophants.  I fear that there are no easy solutions, no instant answers, and no quick comebacks.  This is a war that will leave our country damaged for a very, very long time, and me constantly, maniacally obsessing over that fact isn’t going to heal us any sooner or make it go away any faster.  I’m finally waking up to that fact.  In the meantime, how then shall I live:  purposefully, with deep gratitude for all the goodness that I do have in the moment—savoring that time before it too will be snatched away by death.  Just because I’m living in the moment though, I while never cease to fight the good fight.  The issue is knowing when, where, and how to fight that war, because there is a time and a season for everything, and the current season for me is to relish in the preparation and celebration of joining my family with another incredible family through the sacrament of marriage.

“There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance…

ECCLESIASTES 3:1-4

TRUMP AND THE WORLD’S MADNESS CAN WAIT BECAUSE NOW IS THE “TIME” FOR A WEDDING IN THE TOMCZYK HOUSEHOLD.

Wedding is coming meme

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INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES ON MINDFULNESS

“The best way to capture moments is to pay attention. This is how we cultivate mindfulness.”Jon Kabat-Zinn

“The present moment is the only time over which we have dominion.”Thích Nhất Hạnh

“Mindfulness isn’t difficult, we just need to remember to do it.” Sharon Salzberg

 “The way to live in the present is to remember that ‘This too shall pass.’ When you experience joy, remembering that ‘This too shall pass’ helps you savor the here and now. When you experience pain and sorrow, remembering that ‘This too shall pass’ reminds you that grief, like joy, is only temporary.”

– Joey Green

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THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOK:  “The Fetus Chronicles:  Podcasts From my Miseducated Self” is on sale now at Amazon!

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

 WANT TO HEAR THE AUTHOR’S LATEST INTERVIEW?  Check out the podcast interview with Leo Brown: http://breadboxmedia.podbean.com/e/what-if-it-is-true-can-you-find-faith-in-darkness/

REFERENCES

https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2018/01/04/575167967/meditation-for-fidgety-skeptics-offers-practical-advice-for-stressed-out-cynics

https://www.brookings.edu/blog/fixgov/2018/04/13/trumps-lies-corrode-democracy/

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
6 Comments

Posted by on April 29, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

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So What Was That All About?

Do you know what I’ve discovered?  Before we heterosexuals try and pull the speck out of the eye of our gay brothers and sisters regarding the “sanctity of marriage,” we need to work on pulling the logs out of our own eyes when it comes to the mockery of marriage that so many of us have so cynically engaged in.  I attended Kim and Kris’ wedding a few months ago (I’m just like “this” [two fingers crossed] with the Kardashians), and I am so upset over Kim’s announcement that she is breaking up her marriage with Kris Humphries after only 72 days — I just don’t feel like celebrating another wedding ever again.  I mean I used to love these expensive, over-the-top weddings, but I’m stunned at the revelation of the demise of Kim and Kris’ marriage after such a huge shindig.  They were cast so perfectly for the reality show, and they had such a perfect fairy tale wedding.  Ask any of my friends:  I can’t shake off my grief.  I’ve become such a mess over the demise of their union that I had to write Kim a letter and get some of my disappointment and frustration off my chest.  I mean she’s like a daughter to me, so I have the right to get all up in her business if I want to, if you’re wondering – if you really want to know.

Google Image/Kim Kardashian

Hello Pookey:  I hear you’re an absolute wreck these days.  I’m so sorry.  I tossed a coin to see whether I should write to you or Kris, and I chose you because I really don’t think that child has the sense he was born with (we’ll tackle that boy’s maturity level another day).  Now you know how long your mother and I have been friends.  We go way back to the O.J. and Nicole Simpson days when they claimed to have a happy marriage, and you know what happened to them.  And as your favorite aunt who has been happily married for over 32 years, I felt that I had the gravitas to be able to write you this note. You remember how much I loved, loved, and triple loved your wedding that happened JUST A FEW MONTHS AGO?  Everything was perfectThe entire affair was just to die for!   But now I hear you are divorcing Kris’ ass after only 72 days.  I also hear you’re not planning on giving Kris back the two million dollar engagement ring he gave you.

I’m sure you don’t want to hear this, Baby-girl, but give that child back his little 20.5 carat piece of shiny carbon, ‘cause nobody can claim to have been married when they call it quits after only 72 days.  That wasn’t a marriage, Sugah — that was an extended sleep-over with benefits.  One of your anonymous peeps said to Jennifer Garcia of People Online that “Everything she (Kim) dreamed of in her mind was right there in front of her but what she realized is that her heart wasn’t there.”  Were you in love with “being in love” and then reality hit?  Real reality (not staged reality) is a bitch, isn’t it?  You see Kim, baby, — fantasy is one thing, real life is another — and all marriages (if they are to survive) have to grow up in the reality of immature actions, screaming babies, sickness, unemployment, bad breath, laundry, disappointment, occasional smelly farts, and annoying habits.  You can’t cry “cut” like you do on your reality show when you’ve had enough.  Real love can conquer all that.  Just ask your Uncle WW and me.  BUT, GIRLFRIEND, YOU NEED MORE THAN 72 FUCKING HOURS!  Am I getting through to you here?  Also, I don’t mean to be cruel or anything, but times are hard and if you’re really serious about calling it quits with Kris, then Uncle WW and I would like our twin Dalmatian puppies back.  I don’t know what the hell we’re going to do with them, but we’ll think of something, ‘cause those suckers cost us a pretty penny.

One final note, Baby-girl:  If you really knew that you were making a mistake when you walked down the aisle, but you were too scared to call it off because of all the money and the pomp and circumstance involved — as a woman, I get it; I really do.  It takes a lot of courage to say, “I can’t go through with this; I’ve made a huge mistake.”  If you’ve discovered he’s a serial killer or a pedophile or worse, then by all means get your ass out of Dodge, and I’ll be the first in line to hide you in my attic.  But if you’ve done this for a publicity stunt as your former publicist, Jonathan Jaxson, has eluded to, or because you’ve just discovered Kris isn’t your fantasy Prince Charming, but just a dumb ol’ jock — girl, what credibility you had with me has just been shot to Hell.

 

Google Image/buzzle.com

After I sent that pissy note to Kim Kardashian, I realized there were a bunch of other people who needed to give me back the wedding presents I’d sent them because when I sent those items, it was in good faith, and they were supposed to stay married “until death did them part.”  I decided to send out a bunch of “re-po” notes repossessing my wedding gifts from the most egregious marital felons.  I didn’t give two-hoots about the gifts (they were already used or re-gifted on their part, anyway) but I wanted to make a point about how they had pissed me off.

Google Image/J. Lo, Marc Anthony, and children

Dear Jenny from the block and my main man M-A:  Really?  Seven years?  Is that the best you can do here? Did you not learn from your other marriages?  You both said you did when we chatted at your engagement party.  Now, Jenny, you know I love you, baby.  But I read online that you said, after leaving Marc Antony, in order for marriage to work, “You’ve got to love yourself first.  And until you value yourself enough and love yourself enough to know that, you can’t really have a healthy relationship.”  What kind of Scientology bullshit is that? You have to value each other enough that you choose each other over everything else – you have to both put each other first.  Couldn’t you two have figured out how to cherish each other before the twins were born?  Our children would like us to halfway have our shit together before we birth them so that we don’t mess up their lives, because contrary to popular belief, “the children will not be all right”— at least not without a bit of a struggle.  Anyway, please send me back the ant farm WW and I gave you for a wedding present (the ants are probably dead, anyway).

Google Image/Al and Tipper Gore

Dear Al and Tipper:  40 years!  F-O-R-T-Y Y-E-A-R-S!  After forty years, unless you two were into some kinky shit you hadn’t told me about, or Al had turned into a wife beater, could you not have figured how to work this out?  You’re saying that you just “drifted apart.”  People don’t just drift apart after forty years.  Al: Do you remember what you said on the Larry King show in 2002?   “Well, we fell in love, and we’ve stayed in love, and we’ve worked very hard when there were hard times to work it out, and not that we ever thought about divorcing or anything like that. I don’t mean to imply that. I mean that I think people need to work it out.”  So, “liar, liar, pants on fire,” what in the hell happened here?  Good grief!  I not only want my Ginsu knives back, but I want you to purchase me a new set ‘cause I know after forty years even Ginsu knives won’t be able to cut butter.

Google Image/Arnold Schwarzenegger

Arnold, Arnold, Arnold:  What the fuck?!   You are such a mangy dog — just downright nasty, dude!  What kind of sorry-ass governor campaigns on a family values platform, “schtups” his maid in his house, and fathers a child with her, all the while keeping the baby a secret from his wife for thirteen years while the baby’s mother continues to scrub your floors and clean your nasty-ass toilets?  And weren’t you the one who called out ‘single mothers’ as one of our biggest social problems when you were running for governor?  Sheesh Louise, Arnold — you flushed twenty-five years of marriage down the proverbial toilet!  Give me back my gold-plated “his and her” ThighMasters, today!  On second thought, my girl, Maria, can keep hers, but I want yours back so that I can burn it.  Eeuuw! “Hasta la vista, baby!”

******

 IMP. NOTEThis is a satirical essay on marriage.  I do not know the people listed above; I have no desire to know these people no matter how talented and intelligent some of them might be.  The kind of people I wish I knew, keep eluding me – like Norma and Gordon Yeager.

Google Image/Norma and Gordon Yeager’s hands

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Yeager:   May I call you by your first names:  Norma and Gordon?  I would have given just about anything to have known you.  I read that you died the other day and I am so very sorry that I missed you.  The Iowa paper said you had been married for 72 years when you got into that horrific car accident.  You must be turning over in your graves when you hear that Kim and Kris are getting a divorce after only 72 days and you had been married for 72 years!

You were 94 years old, Gordon, and you were 90 years old, Norma, when you both died.  Your children said that you both would tell anyone who would listen that you had to stay around for each other, because, as Mr. Yeager was fond of saying:  “I can’t go until she does because I’ve got to stay here for her.” I’m so grateful that the hospital administration had the good sense to put you two together in the same room in adjacent beds in the intensive care unit.  Had the staff not done that, your children would have missed something magnificent when you reached for each other’s hands in your semi-conscious states and held onto each other for dear life.  Had you not been together at that crucial time, we all would have missed something gloriously spiritual when you died, Gordon, at 3:38 on October 19th, but your heart monitor still continued to produce a strong, consistent heartbeat.  Then the nurses and doctors wouldn’t have seen something they’ve never encountered in their lives:  your wife’s heartbeat pumping through your clasped hands, and her heartbeat pulsing through your body which caused your heart monitor to continue to register a steady beat even though you were dead.  When you died, Mrs. Yeager, at 4:38 — exactly one hour after Mr. Yeager — the world lost a marriage that should have been celebrated on the front page of every magazine and newspaper, and should have headlined the evening news across the country.  When one of your sons (Dennis) was interviewed about you, he said:

“I don’t believe there was a big
secret to their marriage. Sometimes one or the other would get mad but
they
worked everything out. 

 In the end, they chose each other and that was it. They were committed.”

******

Norma and Gordon:  When your children had you placed in the same coffin, holding hands, and then had you cremated and your ashes mixed together, I realized that I had encountered a marriage that was holy, and I wished WW and I had been a part of your lives.

******

I am discovering that there are other Yeagers out there (few and far between, but they are out there).  I accidentally ran into a “Norma” the other day and her name is Tina from Interior Elements .  She writes in her blog post “Married. . .” (married for 28 years): “Being married for a long time is a lot of work and eventually, when the expectations dwindle out of sheer mental exhaustion, you get to know the person you did not invent.  Or tried to re-invent.”  Yep, there is hope for us yet!

Google Image/Prince William and Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge

Dear Prince William and Your Royal Highness the Duchess of Cambridge:  If you guys don’t go the distance, I’m giving up the ghost, and I’m demanding my velvet painting of Elvis back.  Forewarned is forearmed!

Tomczyks: Keepin’ it real after 32 years

More marriages might survive if the partners realized that sometimes the better comes after the worse.  ~Doug Larson

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 Love seems the swiftest but it is the slowest of all growths.  No man or woman really knows what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century.  ~Mark Twain

 ******

I figure that the degree of difficulty in combining two lives ranks somewhere between rerouting a hurricane and finding a parking place in downtown Manhattan.  ~Claire Cloninger, “When the Glass Slipper Doesn’t Fit and the Silver Spoon is in Someone Else’s Mouth”

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People do not marry people, not real ones anyway; they marry what they think the person is; they marry illusions and images.  The exciting adventure of marriage is finding out who the partner really is.  ~James L. Framo, “Explorations in Marital & Family Therapy”

All text and photos by Eleanor and John Tomczyk © 2011 except where otherwise noted

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
34 Comments

Posted by on November 10, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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