Foolish Advice

I know of this young, twenty-something girl who's having an affair with a married man. The man, supposedly going through a rough patch in his marriage and is 'temporarily' separated, has sought solace in the arms of this naive, young virgin. Of course, she only knows what he's told her as they see each other in secret - and since they have no mutual friends to verify anything he's said, she's taken his word as gospel.

She considers herself bound to him just because she lost "it" to him. I basically told her that falling for the wrong guy is not that uncommon because it's something from which we can glean great lessons and move on, and that she deserves a man who can commit himself fully only to her. As expected, it was not received too well. Another person egged her on by saying that we all make mistakes and learn from them - but that she's young only once and should to live it up and enjoy.

The affair itself did not shock me. We are all human and do make mistakes in different ways, but that advice did. How can someone give that kind of counsel? Live it up and enjoy? Enjoy...for how long? What and how much will one do for momentary enjoyment? Broken families, wrecked homes, unplanned pregnancy, hurt children growing up with philandering parents who continue the cycle and do it to their own spouse and children, etc.? Is all that worth someone's temporary pleasure?

It sometimes takes one foolish choice to trigger events and set our lives to a certain path, as well as affect others' irrevocably.

No matter how crazy our lives and choices become, deep down in our guts, we know what's right. I have no problems with foolish acts. After all, we all have our share of them. I do, however, have a problem with foolish advice.

Out of the Mouth of Babes

Dannyboy

While I was talking to my sister-in-law on the phone a few hours ago, Danny, her 3-year-old son (our godson) went to the bathroom by himself to pee. After she hung up with me, she went to the bathroom to check on him.

"Did you do peepee in the toilet?" she asked.

"Yes, Mommy!" He answered.

My sister-in-law responds, "Bravoooooooo, Danny! You are such a good boy!"

He then proudly adds, "Mommy, I did peepee in the toilet, and poopoo on the floor, then I took it from the floor, I put in the toilet and I flushed -- ALL BY MYSELF!"

ROFL!

"This house is clean."

No, we didn't hire an exorcist to get rid of a poltergeist. We hired someone to scrub our place clean, down to the hard-to-reach corners.

Hubby and I have been working late a lot recently, so we haven't had the energy to pick up the broom and scrubbing pad to clean thoroughly during the weekends. But even on a good day with our best efforts, our work cannot compare to that of a professional. To an allergy-sufferer like me, not having to deal with dusting gives me some assurance that I'm going to be holding off those histamine-ridden episodes for a bit.

It is an awesome feeling to see our hardwood floors, fixtures and appliances gleam like new. Others treat themselves to a day in the spa. This is my spa day, seeing my place sparkle without having to be the one to do it.

Where Were You?

I was quietly sitting at my desk trying to start the day when I heard the news. I was working for a design firm west of Boston, and our office was already bustling with activity.

"A second plane had crashed into the World Trade Center," someone exclaimed. That was the point when we knew for sure that the first one was no accident. One or two people had casually mentioned the first plane that plowed into the World Trade Center but everyone thought it was a freak accident and continued working. A big television appeared out of nowhere and was placed in the middle of the office. Everyone left their cubicles and fixed their eyes on the biggest tragedy to unfold on American soil in a long time. After watching replay upon replay of the Twin Towers crumbling, everyone walked back like zombies to their cubicle - but no one could work. Everyone just surfed the internet - hungry for more news.

My phone rang. I answered to the anxious voice of my Mom, calling my office for the very first time. She had heard that the two of the planes used by the terrorists had come from Boston, so she was making sure that I was safely in my office and not traveling somewhere. Her relief was palpable as I assured her that I was okay. She hung up comforted, but still shocked at the enormity of what was happening in the world that day.

That was where I was on this day, five years ago.