Mother's Day 2014

 

 

I Have a One-Track Mind.

I'm kind of relentless.  It's one of my less awesome qualities.  I'm sure it annoys my husband to death.  

I love, love, LOVE new cars.  A year or two in a car and I'm already scheming ways to invent a "need" for a new one.  Lease programs were created for people just like me.  Who in the hell cares if you have any equity in the car when it's time to trade it back in?  Not me!  As soon as the free oil changes expire, I'm over it and ready for the next best thing.  I know.  Dave Ramsay shakes his head at me.  I blame my Grandpa for this trait, along with my stubborn streak.

My husband, on the other hand, is exactly the opposite.  He loves his cars as much as he loves me and our dogs.  He loves them and babies them and takes care of them to the point of obsession.  When something breaks, he fixes it.  He will drive a car into the ground, and then keep it in the garage because he's going to fix it up later. 

Recently, my car, which I've had FOREVER (like, 5 years) started acting weird.  Gordon swears it's probably a simple fix.  But I'm way ahead of him.  Yesterday, I "surprised" him by doing a little car shopping.  I'm sure he rolled his eyes when I called him to tell him that I was at a dealership with a very nice car sales person and they had already found the perfect car in the right color with a sunroof and some type of engine that would drive fast.  Also, it has a camera on the back to help me avoid backing into things.  What more could a girl want?  By the way, I'm pretty much any car salesperson's dream.  The concept of a poker-face completely escapes me.  I literally jumped up and down when he showed me the auxiliary plug where I can connect my iPod Shuffle to the stereo!

Bless his patient heart, Gordon went along with it.  No, he did not drop everything and come to the dealership immediately so that I could arrange financing and DRIVE IT OFF THE LOT TODAY as I wanted him to do.  But he did promise that he would come with me to look at it.  Yippee!  I'm so excited that I can hardly concentrate!  Maybe I should just take a quick break from work to drive over and look at the car, just to make sure it's still there...
 

Holy Hannah. Has It Been This Long??

I didn't realize how much I missed blogging and how therapeutic it can be.  My thoughts have been churning for days now and in an attempt to pull my head together, I started writing.  I love that feeling...it's like running a comb through tangled hair.  It feels so much better to work through things and put those thoughts back in their place.  Fair warning:  this blog continues to be my outlet, as it always has, so I'm pretty honest and revealing in my musings.  In most ways, this blog is my diary so be prepared to hear my real life thoughts and feelings.

In my old age, I'm compiling an eclectic list of  Life Lessons.  I mean, I'm approximately 1/3 of the way through life, so I should probably have something to show for it.  As you know, I don't have a kid to impart this wisdom to, so I'm forced to tailor my wisdom to the only female whose life I currently mold, my black lab Lucille O'Neil.  So Lala, here is Mama's advice to you for life in the Big World:

1.  No one is ever going to be everything you want them to be, do everything you want them to do, or act exactly the way you want them to act.  Stop trying to make them do so.  They will do what they will do.  So just let them.  Fact of the matter is, it’s your own mental health that you are sacrificing when you try.   
2. Keep loving with your entire being.  While it’s true that not everyone will adore you back, the ones who love you back with their entire beings are the ones who will stick around.  The ones who don’t will eventually filter themselves out of your life, if you let them.  By the way, LET THEM.  So keep begging for pets, keep jumping on the bed to snuggle when you aren’t really supposed to.  It sometimes makes me mad, but in the end, it’s hard to be mad at you when you are just loving your people.
3.  Nobody is ever going to care as much as you do.  They care about their own stuff.  You care about yours.  You’ll never care about their stuff as much as they do.  They’ll never care about your stuff as much as you do.  This isn’t a bad thing.  This just human nature.  You don’t have to be happy about it or like it, but you should probably accept it.  Because again, it’s your own mental health that you are sacrificing when you try.
4. Pink really is your best color, it looks so bright and vivid against your fur.  Keep that in mind in case anyone else ever buys your collars for you. 
5. Guilt is a terrible, ugly, destructive thing.  Excise it from your thoughts on a moment-by-moment basis.  That isn’t to say that you should excise your conscience.  Do your best to be the best person you can.  When you fall short, apologize and do better.  But don’t allow yourself to dwell.  Make it right the best you can and move on.  That is all. 
6. Never, ever allow anyone to control you by exploiting your guilt.  Note the verb there.  ALLOW.  No one can make you feel anything.  You choose your feelings on your own.  So don’t allow it. 
7. Keep being able to run faster than Sam and catch squirrels better than he can.  You’re strong and fast and the neighborhood’s best hunter.  Sam has his own talents, but he can’t hold a candle to you in these departments.  It’s good for him to realize that on occasion. 
8. Buy all of the collars in all of the different styles that you want and can afford (if you ever figure out how to shop online).  Under no circumstances should you jeopardize your financial well-being by spending money (see below), but if you can safely afford to buy the collar with the sparkles on it, but the GD collar.  Every woman deserves the little bump in confidence that comes from wearing something that she loves. 
9. This point should really come before point #8, but it’s not as fun so it didn’t spring to mind.  Get your financial ducks in a row.  The best bump in confidence of all comes from the feeling of being smart and responsible and being 100% capable of taking care of yourself.  That kind of confidence is better than all the collars that money can buy. 
10. Get to know yourself.  Be honest with yourself.  That way, you’ll be able to make the right decisions about what you want and what makes you happy.  Make those decisions and stick by them and tell the doubters and questioners that their two options are to get On-board or get Off-board.  You can’t halfway ride the train.
11. Feel free to change your mind.  Item #10 is totally true.  Make your decisions and stick with them.  But this life is full of twists and turns and you have every GD right in the world to change your mind when the road changes directions.  You are the Supreme Ruler of Your Life, be the dictator. 
12. Don’t abuse your right to be a bitch.  Yes, you are biologically a bitch.  But it’s also your right to ACT like a bitch: be blunt and honest and unafraid.  But the point is, don’t abuse the right.  It’s much less effective if you over-use it.  So pick your battles.  And when you decide it’s appropriate, do it with gusto. 
13.  Make it your mission to act with fairness.  If that means that you need time to evaluate your opinion or your next move, take the time that you need.  Think carefully.  A reputation for fairness is worth far more than a reputation for being nice, for being aggressive or for being decisive. 
14. Above all else, do not ever, ever, ever betray yourself by failing to stand up and say what you need.  You will wait a long, long, long time if you stand around waiting for someone else to read your mind and give you what you need.  And chances are, they’ll get it wrong anyway because they do not reside in your mind.  So advocate for yourself and speak up.    
15. And finally, Lollipop, never, ever get in the habit of blogging while you are at work because it will inevitably get you in trouble for not doing what you are supposed to.  That is, if you or Sam ever get off your asses and get a job to help support your fancy-schmancy dog food requirements.  

A Word About Mothers...Mine In Particular

In honor of her birthday, I thought I’d pen a little tribute to the lady who is my Mother. Whenever I think of my mom in song, I always think of that song “Forever Young” by Bob Dylan.  I’m pretty sure he wrote that song about her. 

 “May you grow up to be righteous

 May you grow up to be true

 May you always know the truth

May you see the lights surrounding you

May you always be courageous

 May you stand upright and be strong

 May you stay forever young…”

My Mama is a free spirit and a joyful heart.  She dances in church, says stuff that she shouldn’t, and laughs at everything.  She is frequently irreverent.  She pretty much does or says whatever she feels in the moment…she’s about the most genuine and sincere person most of us will ever know.  And it’s a little funny when this quality gets her in trouble. 

She’s also passionate and feisty.  Woe be unto you if you hurt someone she loves.  She’s a champion of the underprivileged, the underappreciated.  She is in her element serving others…whether she’s feeding them, inviting them into her home or greeting them with a warm hug and a smile, she has the skill of making people feel at ease.  

She loves music, it speaks to her soul and it flows through every move she makes.  She laughs at people when they get hurt, which is a terrible, terrible reaction that she has passed onto her kids.  To this very day, my immediate reaction when someone trips is to laugh hysterically.  I don’t know why this is, but the reaction is automatic and I have to fight VERY HARD to keep myself in check.  

My cousins and I often muse about our mothers and how they are the definition of the word “survivor”.  It’s pretty mind-boggling to consider the early lives of my mom and her siblings.  I’ll never fully understand how those ladies turned out to be such strong, courageous, wise, loving people.  I have a very deep sense of pride in who my mom is for all that she’s been through.  

People know her as teacher, wife, friend and sister…but I, along with my siblings, are lucky enough to know her as Marmee, Mama, and MoTHER (emphasis is key here).  She’s taught us to be independent, creative, to figure things out on our own, to work hard and be kind, genuine people.  She taught us about accepting ourselves and others for exactly the people that they are in that moment.  She taught us that nothing is too much for the ones you love.

For those of you who were not lucky enough to have been endowed with Sara L. Willard’s motherly wisdom, I feel compelled to share a few of her gems with you: 

•  Never run over a plastic bag in the road because it could contain something awful, like a corpse.  (I KNOW.  This is so awful, which is probably why it sticks in my head.)

• Smashed ants smell like bleu cheese (this is actually 100% true).

•  Pull over on the side of the road immediately if you start blinking slowly, a sure indicator that you are about to fall asleep at the wheel

• It’s totally possible to catch a bird in the back yard using a stick, string and a cardboard box (NOTE:  This was an ingenious way to occupy us for hours at a time when we were kids)

•  If you are playing Hide-and-Seek with her, under no circumstances should you fall for the trick of going to hide first.  She has a faulty memory when it comes to remembering to LOOK for you. 
•  “Pipe juice” is actually just plain old water. 

• Few subjects are off limits, I’ll spare you the details.  I’ll just say that we are a very open family, a fact that may have backfired on my mom in particular a little later in life.  She might wish that her kids were just a tiny bit less open than we are now!

My childhood wasn’t luxurious or excessive.  It wasn’t perfect.  My parents worked hard to provide us with everything we needed.  Looking back, I have very happy, content memories of my childhood.  I remember flying kites, playing outside, and spending long, simple, happy days together.  We grew up with love and security and a real sense of what life is really all about.  My parents gave us a strong foundation, their love and wisdom holds us strong when the winds of change may blow.  For that, I’ll always be grateful.

So here’s to you, the best and prettiest Mama in the land.  Bob said it best when he said “May your heart always be joyful, may your song always be sung…and may you stay Forever Young”.

Memo To Monday.

Dear Monday. 

You can go to hell.  Right straight to hell. 

Love,
Bethany O'Neil

A Post For No Reason At All, Except That I'm Thoroughly Unmotivated.

I'm really annoyed with winter today.  The latter half of 2011 was a total dud in the winter weather department.  As our irritating weather people reminded us 87,000 times, December 2011 was the driest December on record.  Thus far, our valley floor has seen maybe five inches of snow this season.  We should be approaching the 30 inch mark by now.  The absence of precipitation means that our air is horrendous.  It's about as healthy as the air at a truck stop.  Disgusting.  Every day, I watch the weather forecast with dread because I know that those damn sunshine icons will just stretch on and on, no reprieve in sight.  Damn you, high pressure system.

On the plus side, I would like to say that I have never enjoyed a three-day weekend more than I enjoyed this one just past.  I was a little sick, which sucked.  However, my sickness allowed me the opportunity to do very little.  On Saturday morning, I woke up feeling deliciously under the weather.  I took a leisurely hot bath, reading my Nook and sniffling away.  I got out of the bath, found the strength to make some coffee and get to the couch.  And there I stayed until the late afternoon, when I dragged myself to my bed to watch a ridiculous Jennifer Aniston movie about a man who sleeps with three generations of women.  In one family.  It was disturbing, but I watched it anyway.  Later in the evening, the whole family, minus sister Caitlin, went to my sister's house for the New Years Eve festivities.  We played games, drank too many dirties (well some of us did) and relished the ending of 2011.  It seemed so appropriate to end one year and start a new one together.

And then I spent the rest of the weekend doing pretty much the same thing.  Reading.  Taking a bath.  Reading some more.  Oh, I did empty the dishwasher.

Oh, I should also mention that I have made one teeny, tiny resolution for the new year.  Technically, not for the new year because I really made this resolution in November.  This resolution explains why my credit cards are currently frozen in an ice block in my freezer.  I think it's quite clever of me.  Since the post will be much improved by a photo, I'll tell you about that resolution later. 

Love to you and a best wishes for 2012!

xoxox
B

The Obligatory New Years Post

December 26 is not my favorite day of the year.  It's always a little bit of a let-down.  I usually feel a little sad that all the festivities are over, the presents have been opened, I've eaten 98 million cookies and feel like barfing, and the decorations have to come down.

The melancholy usually only lasts a little while, though, because I really like the feeling of the new year.  It's a fresh, new start...a whole set of days, laid out before you, with no mistakes in them yet.  I feel inspired and start making resolutions for the coming months.

I'm happy to report that my resolutions for 2012 are just this:  stay the same.  I have a job that pays the bills and gives me a great sense of satisfaction.  I'm lucky in love.  I share a home and a life with the person who is truly my other half.  Before I even leave the house in the morning, I already start looking forward to going home to him.  As if that weren't enough, I have all of My People within a stone's throw of my house.  My parents, my siblings, and my non-birth siblings are a huge part of my life, comprising a huge part of my foundation.  We love each other, we respect each other, and we really like to hang out with each other.  

I could resolve to go to the gym, stop allowing my credit card information to be saved on my favorite online shopping accounts, eat better, or take the dogs for a walk more often.  I could resolve to make this year the year that we add a baby to our family.  All noble and valid goals.  Instead, though, I'm going to focus on maintaining the pretty darn good life I already have. 

Please know that you, our family and friends, are part of what we in the O'Neil family are so thankful for.  We wish you the very best in 2012!

I've Joined the Clog Cult.

It started with my sister, Nic.  And then my mom joined in.  The love of the clog.  And I'm not talking about drains, either, as you may have surmised from the photo above.  I'm referring to footwear, and I mean the most comfortable footwear in the universe.

Today, I am the proud owner of my very first pair of these dream shoes, specifically the Sanita Birgitte.  Even as we speak, my feet are singing a little holiday song because they are so warm and comfy.  Now, my new clogs are not exactly as those listed above, but very similar.  Mine are actually a dark, root beer-ish brown color in an alligator skin pattern.  I adore them.  I already have plans to buy the patent leather bright red model, soon followed by the patent leather black and then the teal ones and then the flat brown ones.  This could really get out of hand.

A Christmas Miracle: The Time I Almost Had a Forest Fire In My Office

I had an Anne Shirley moment today.  I felt compelled to share it with you all.

Today, I had steamed broccoli and cauliflower for lunch.  The smell of steamed broccoli is not a nice smell.  It sort of smells like fluffs, if we are going to be honest about it.  After I was finished eating my lunch, I realized that my office smelled very terrible.  I decided that I needed to take action right away.  My brilliant solution was to light a small candle.  So I bummed a light from my HR Pal Chanda.  My candle burned merrily, so bright and cheerful on my desk.  Until the tissue fell on it.  And caught on fire.  And I blew on it to try to put out the fire.  And little embers blew all around my office (thank Todd the door was closed!!)  And then I had to run around my office, stomping on little, teensy embers.

I will tell you what.  It is a GD Christmas Miracle that I didn't set off the fire alarms.  Turns out, I am totally the reason that candles and other flammable objects are against office policy.

Brothers

I actually don't have multiple brothers, just the one.  Today, in honor of that little rascal's birthday, I'd like to say a few words on the subject.

My brother Tedson is six years younger than I am, four years younger than my sister, Nichola.  He was, and in many ways is, my baby brother.  He was our dolly, he was our scapegoat, and for a while, he was our tag-along.  Then he started to grew up and became a nuisance, albeit it an occasionally hilarious one.  And then we all grew up and we got to be just regular pals who like to hang out together, say bad words, drink a little, and laugh at (uh, I mean WITH) our parents. 

We all had our own roles in the family.  As just about everyone knows, I was the serious one, the bossy one, the occasional Princess, the protector and the worrier.  My sister Nic was the fun one, she is a free spirit and an artist, creative and unconventional.  Teddy was the funniest and the naughtiest of us all.  He was always in trouble, but we were always laughing at his antics.  Without his humor, he would have been just a plain old bad boy who should have been sent to military school.  But his loving and funny personality was, and still is, his redeeming grace!

Some things you should know about Tedson...

• He once told the neighbor kids that he had two big sisters named Ursula and Ickola.  And they believed him.  In case you wondered, this is where my alter-ego named Ursula comes from.
• One time, Teddy put a clear rubber band around the trigger of the sink sprayer in the kitchen, pointing the sprayer directly outward.  I can't remember who was the target of this trick, but imagine their surprise when they got a face-full of water when they went to turn on the sink.
• When he was about 2 years old, we got a new kitten.  One afternoon, Kitty disappeared, along with Teddy and his best buddy Brooke.  When the missing parties were located, they were found in Teddy's room, the kitty covered (and I mean covered) in honey.  Someone thought it was a fun idea to give the kitty a honey bath. 
• Sometime around the age of 6 or 8, Ted gave Nichola and I each a little gold locket in the shape of a heart that had his picture in it.  I still have that necklace and I keep it in my jewelry box!  It makes me cry a little sometimes!

It has been said that siblings are the people that we practice on in preparation for real life.  They teach us how to be fair and kind and tolerant, they teach us how to exist with real people in the real world.  Sometimes those are lessons learned the hard way! 

The sibling relationship is a unique one, most people will never experience another relationship like it.  To the world outside, we all grow old, evolve and change according to our life experiences.  Not so with siblings, though.  To my sister and brother, we know each other as we always have been.  We understand each other and love each other unconditionally.  We know the experiences that make us tick.  We share a treasure trove of inside family jokes, skeletons in closets, and the triumphs and failures that make us the people we are today. 

I would imagine that to my siblings, I will always be cast in the same role.  I would like to think that they will always think of me as their protector, the one who looks out for them and worries about them and is always on their side.  Hopefully, they will forget that I was sometimes bossy and snotty and made them do stuff that I didn't want to do myself!

So happy birthday to my baby brother Teddy.  I'm sorry for telling you that you were born in a forest and raised by wolves until they dropped you off at our doorstep and our parents generously took you in.  Actually, on second thought, I'm not really sorry, on account of the fact that you told the neighbors that my name was Ursula and make fun of me for loving Bud Light.

Today, I saw a headline that read: 

"Butt injection with 'Fix a Flat' leads to arrest".   

It's a real shame that it turned out to be a) illegal, and b) probably toxic.  The idea had such promise!  I guess those of us with pancake asses are back to the drawing board. 

Hoorah for Surveys!

What’s the largest age difference between yourself and someone you’ve dated? 8 years, sometimes 9 depending on the time of year. And he’s just the ticket for me!

Ever been in a car wreck? Oh Lord, so many times that it’s not even note-worthy anymore. My most dramatic crash up, though, was not my fault. I was riding in the backseat when the driver rolled the truck. I enjoyed a long ambulance ride down the canyon, got myself checked out, and went camping!

Do you have any friends that you’ve known for 10 years or more? Heavens, it dismays me that I’m old enough to have friends to have known for ten years. I suppose I do, although time and distance has diminished the relationships to mostly just acquaintances. That’s sad.

 Are you a good tipper? Having spent many years in the food service industry, I’m either a good tipper or a bad tipper. My expectations are higher than many, and I do adjust my tip according to those expectations, but on the flip side, I’m very empathetic. I totally understand what’s it’s like to live on tips.

Have you ever peed in public? Sure, I grew up camping so it’s one of those things that you just get over.

 What song do you want played at your funeral? “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles and “Legacy” by Nicole Nordeman.

 Would you tell your parents if you were gay? Like Shawna, it’s pretty easy for me to answer this question because it’s really just a hypothetical. I’m married to the only boy I’ll ever need. However, as a product of two parents who are unfailingly loving and supportive, it would never be anything I would have to be afraid of.

What would your last meal be before getting executed? 1000 Skallops with plenty of tartar sauce. And I would eat all of them. I would prefer to die from having my stomach explode anyway.

 Beatles or Stones? Stones.

 If you had to pick one person on earth to die, who would it be? Hmm. There are plenty of people that I could do without, but even I have a hard time pinpointing someone that I would actually want to die. In light of recent events, I might say Jerry Sandusky, the child rapist from Penn State. But then again, no. I’d like for him to live a good, long time. I’d like for him to live to the ripe old age of 180, living with the guilt and the knowledge that he is as close to inhuman as they come. Death seems a little too easy for him, at least in my opinion.

 Beer, wine or hard liquor? Yes.

 Do you have any phobias? I really, strongly dislike reptiles. I’m not afraid of bugs or mice. I have a real problem with creatures that move in unpredictable, fast movements and don’t have fur.

 What are your plans for the future? Today, I plan to get some work done. Later, I plan to stop at the liquor store for some gin, as I’ve recently discovered my adoration for dirty martinis. And then later after that, Gordon and I will be spending some quality time in our basement, bonding over mud, spackle and drywall. That’s about as far as I’ve gotten.

Behind Schedule!

Today is November 9.  Nine days past the time when Christmas music is finally acceptable in public.  I realized that I haven't listened to a single Christmas song!  This is a terrible oversight, I'll have to make amends immediately.  

With the help of my favorite music streaming website, Playlist.com, I have created The Christmas Playlist of 2012.  I will listen to it almost non-stop for about the next three weeks, until I'm so sick and tired of it that I'll have to create a new one.  It looks suspiciously like The Christmas Playlist of 2011.  

• "White Christmas" by Bing Crosby
• Four different versions (yes, four) of "Baby It's Cold Outside" by Rod Stewart, Zooey Deschanel, Ray Charles and Dean Martin
• A little Frank Sinatra
• A little Elvis
• A song or two by Air Supply. 

All in all, a very well rounded collection, I'd say.  So Ho Ho Ho and Happy Holidays to you!  Get in the spirit already, the Christmas season is already 9/55ths of the way done! We're wasting time!

Thoughts From A Headline Addict...

I am a total news junkie, did you know?  I love current events.  MSNBC.com is usually my second e-stop in the morning, right after I have logged in to Mint.com.  I check the headlines throughout the day, always curious about what's going on and whether or not anything interesting is happening. 

This morning, MSNBC reports the following:

• "Lindsay Lohan sentenced to 30 days, won't serve it all"  I'll be damned if this girl is not ON MY LAST NERVE.  I'm sick to death of LL headlines.  But at least it's pretty easy for the writers and editors.  They can basically recycle the same old headlines, over and over again.  "Lindsay Lohan Is A Hot Mess";  "Lindsay Lohan Violates Parole"; "Lindsay Lohan is Going Back To The Pokey", etc. etc.
• "Trump Accuses Jon Stewart of Racist Rant!"  I'm confused about when we started giving any credence to what Donald Trump has to say.  Let's go back to the day BEFORE that day, shall we?  Being rich does not necessarily make you intelligent.
• "Rescue Dog Dies After Saving Owner" ... Wah!  I'm going to petition MSNBC to stop running stories like this.  I can't keep having cry-episodes in the middle of my work day.
• "Jury in NYC Convicts Russian Arms Dealer" The Merchant of Death?  What an interesting life he must lead.  I hope this ends up on Dateline, I'm dying to learn more!
• "Herman Cain:  There Are Factions Trying to Destroy Me" Uh, yeah.  If you count YOURSELF as a "faction".  I guess you missed the memo about how your personal life tends to get involved when you get into politics.  Maybe you should just start by avoiding situations that will later get you in trouble. 
• "Greek PM convinces cabinet to push referendum deal ahead"  Dear Greece.  Quit ruining my damn retirement. 

The Yin To My Yang

Thank the Lord that I ensnared Gordon O'Neil into marrying me.  Amongst many other saintly qualities, he is the voice of reason and logic when I am the voice of irrationality.  He is the steering rudder to our boat when I am more like the sail who gets full of wind and runs aground.

Today, he acts as the Good Cop in my Good Cop/Bad Cop Routine.  This morning, I was attempting to deal with an insurance adjustor who is being disagreeable and irritating.  He really pissed me off.  And so, in typical fashion, I cut him off mid-sentence as he was explaining to me why they weren't going to pay for the damage.  I told him that he had jerked me around for the last time and that he would be hearing from my attorney.  Then I hung up on him.  (P.S.  I don't have an attorney.  I just said that for effect.)

Then I had to call Gordon and tell him how furious I was.  He laughed and asked me to please cease and desist in following up on any other outstanding problems, at least until tomorrow.  Lovely man that he is, he also agreed to call the insurance adjustor back, explain that his wife is a little mental and see if we can find a way to work it out.   

He's one in a million, that Gordon O'Neil.

To Recline Or Not To Recline...This is The Question.

Anyone who has ever spent more than 13 minutes on an airplane has an opinion on this issue.  In a world where passengers are dealing with constantly curtailed comforts, do you have a right to recline your seat?

Since you are reading my blog, you clearly care about my opinion.  So I'm sending it your way.  Of course you have the right.  You purchased the ticket, which includes the ability to raise or lower your tray table, your arm rest, and recline your seat.  But should you?

In my opinion, polite people do not recline their chairs.  When you recline your chair, you are robbing me of a few square inches of my space.  I purchased that space.  It belongs to me.  And there is PRECIOUS LITTLE of it.  By reclining your chair into my airspace, you are making a very clear statement that your comfort is of a higher priority than mine is. 

Of course, I could always just recline my own chair, and steal someone else's space to make up for your rude and self-centered behavior.  But we all know that two wrongs don't make a right.  And what about that poor sap at the very end of the plane, already stuck with the injustice of sitting in front of the lavatories?  They don't get the option of reclining their chairs, so the buck stops with them. 

Because my parents raised me right, I refuse to recline my chair.  I can honestly tell you that I have never done it.  Not even on the flight home from Anchorage, Alaska, in the middle of the GD night.  The flight that had about fourteen layovers, a total travel time of 14 hours, and a lost bag?  The one that left me dissolved in tears at the baggage claim, where Gordon had to park the car and come scrape me off the pavement because I just couldn't bear the exhaustion any longer.  Yes, that was a memorable one.  I didn't recline my seat because I was raised to be considerate of other people. 

On a recent flight from St. Louis, this issue became a serious matter.  I'll preface this story by saying that I sometimes become so fixated on a small issue that it takes over my entire soul and I become single-minded in exacting revenge of the offender.  That happened on this occasion.  Gordon and I were flying home from St. Louis, it was a relatively short flight, an hour and a half or so.  Before the plane even took off, three young-20-ish individuals reclined their seats, invading our space.  Those of you who know my husband know that he NEEDS every square speck of space that he can get.  He's not compact.  So as the seconds ticked by, I became more and more engulfed with fury over their rude behavior.  I'm not afriad to admit that it was a little ridiculous.  And somewhat miserable.  I'm not kidding you when I say that it was a full-scale war.  Somewhere over mid-Missourri, I got a little tired of my mission, but it was too late to give in.  I dug my toes onto the crack of their chair so hard that my feet ached.  About every three to four minutes, I reached down into my carry on and banged it against the back of his chair in a very abrupt manner.  In between surprise attacks, I pushed my knees into the back of their chair so hard that my quads were positively aching.  With every offense, the offender would shift slightly, press against my knees and glare through the crack of the seat.  That's how I knew my efforts were not in vain, and what fueled my fury to keep at it!    To stop the attacks at that point would have been a weak move, a surrender.  And Bethany Heather Willard O'Neil is not one to surrender.  Duh. 

Anyway.  So what I'm saying is that I hate recliners.  And woe is the soul who invades my space (or Gordon's) on an airplane.  You will be very, very sorry.  I'm little, but I'm not afraid to poke a pencil through the crack of your seat. 

Am I unreasonable?  Well, don't answer that.  It's a foregone conclusion.  But how do you feel about seat recliners?  Is it offensive, or is it your right as an airline passenger? 

And P.S.  I'm looking for your response, Mrs. Malvini-Redden!