One of these things is not like the others

One of these things is not like the others. One of these things, doesn't belong....the tune from the old Sesame Street song danced through my head. 

In the Amsterdam airport last month, I had walked in and sat down in the Irish Pub for a burger. I noticed it was very similar to Irish pubs and burger joints I'd been in before, but this felt different. It was palpable.  I noticed it right away.   I was the only woman patron in the place.

The woodwork was deep mahogany and the music played quite loudly. There was a lingering smell of foreign cigarette smoke in the place, even though there was a separate smoking area through a stained glass door dully marked, and the conversation was interspersed with the deep tones of guys laughing about guy stuff. 

As I sat at the table in front of the stained glass window withvthe sunshining in, I'm certain that my gayly colored yellow blouse screamed "IT'S A GIRL!"  Although at 50+ I hardly feel like a girl any longer. 

I noticed another woman walk in, look around and leave. 

Finally a gal walked in and found a spot at the bar.  She either hadn't noticed yet or was much braver than others.  I had actually selected the table by the window so I could sit and observe everyone else. Not a bold move, but perhaps some would consider it daring. 

There was a fair amount of traffic through the smoker's door. I don't think they were here for the burgers, instead they were here for a power that was tough to resist in an otherwise smoke free environment within the airport. 

I ordered at the bar. Other than that the waitstaff acted like I had leprosy. Interesting. The man who ordered after me finished his meal and left which cued me to inquire about the whereabouts of my burger. Apparently the waitress hadn't rung it in, it was shift change and  alas no burger.   Good thing I have time to kill before my flight. 

More women appeared.  And stayed. Perhaps they figured if an old lady in a yellow blouse was okay here, they were too. 

Sometimes that's how life is. We just need someone else to go first. 

Hi! How are you?

I read the other day that the most common lie we (as North Americans) tell is when we respond to the question, "How are you?"  We typically answer without even thinking about it. We open our mouths and out comes the canned response ..."I'm fine."  "Good!"  "Never better!"

Having met a number of people  from other countries, I've had the opportunity to discuss this topic with some of them. One young man considered us to be fake and insincere because of our flippant auto-answer and another when asked that question took it as a genuine inquiry and launched a heartfelt answer. 

Since it's really just a pleasantry and we are not really looking for an honest answer why don't we switch up our question?

How about...

What is the last song you danced to?
What makes your heart sing?

What makes you smile at the end of the day?

What gives you energy?

When was the last time you were decently kissed?  (Ok, that's a line from a fun movie that doesn't really fit this situation but I thought I'd throw it in here.)

What makes you cry?

If you could change the world, what would it look like?

You get the idea.  And then the trick is that you need to listen to their answer. After all, if you aren't going to listen to their answer, why bother to ask it in the first place. 

Give it a shot. Although you may want to do it over a tall, decaf, cappuccino.  Because you may find a real answer to how your friends are. 

The Daily Commute

Today I took the subway to and from work for the first time. I've been on the subway in years past, but never as a daily mode of travel to work. My morning commute looked like this:

My ride home was rather different and looked more like this:

It's been interesting contrasting the city commute with the mid-west commute where you hop in your car, drive 2 miles stopping at 2 stop signs and a traffic light to get to work. 

When I worked from an office in our home, we used to joke about what I did during commute time. Sometimes I vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom or washed a load of laundry.   

For a people watcher the subway certainly offers variety that's for sure. 

The BIG Apple

I haven't posted for quite some time now. Much has happened and little has happened. I am still madly in love with my husband. He and our five month old black lab have given me much joy to write about; however I have chose not to. If you ask me why, I won't have a good explanation.

Today I boarded an airplane headed for the big apple. As in BIG apple. NYC. Yes, that's correct, New York City. We are almost ready to land and a very different way of life awaits me. You see, almost two years ago I applied and interviewed for my dream job.  The position was offered to another person, life went on  with wonderful things...marriage, we became grandparents, my husband accepted a job transfer, we moved to Florida. Home of the Blue Angels and the white, sugar sand beaches!

Lo and behold a month ago, the dream job HR department contacted me to see if I was still interested!  After a whirlwind month of interviews, conversations with my husband and wrapping up obligations from my previous employment, I now find myself on an airplane preparing to land in a city that both excites and scares me.

This little Wisconsin (Florida) girl is hitting the big city and is chockful and bursting with joyful things to write about.