Space Between the Lines

 

I have a pet peeve that apparently annoys no one but me. It has to do with the amount of space people leave between them and the person in line in front of them. Inside the bank, the post office or the Dunkin Donuts, the guy in front of me always seems to stand a good six feet behind the customer who is currently being waited on. It’s as if he is fearful of eavesdropping on a confession. Right, I tell the coffee shop cashier my deepest secrets. Don’t you?

“Move UP!” I want to scream. “He’s ordering a large coffee with cream and one sugar, not planning a hostile takeover!”

For years I have observed only men doing this. Women appear much more comfortable cozying up to the stranger standing in front or behind them. A couple of feet of space is more than enough. They don’t act like the male customers at CVS, for example, who allow so much wasted space between them and the person at the counter that I could push four shopping carts – ear to ear – through the space. And this reminds me. I really hate when this happens and I invariably get pushed back down an aisle, where I find myself staring at on-sale Christmas candy. Come on. You know I’m weak.

But lately, I have found that women have begun developing the same habit, backing off from the person in line in front of them, as though they forgot to bathe. Frequently, they are so preoccupied texting or talking on their cell phones that they are completely oblivious to the cavernous spaces they create.

Does anyone else see the irony in all of this? With social media, cell phones, and cameras on every inanimate and animate object, we already have zero privacy. So why do we suddenly feel the need to create a force field around us when we are actually WITH other human beings.

We hold onto our little personal acreage like squatters, forcing the person behind the counter to yell across the room, “Can I help the next in line?”

I hate this part, too.  I don’t want to yell from my otherworldly location, “Make that a double caramel latte with vanilla and non-fat.” Whose business is it to judge me on my breakfast drink? Hah, a double caramel latte with syrup and she bothers with skim milk! I can actually hear the snickers.

Well, I would, if I weren’t standing so far away.

 

 

 

13
Jan
2012

Book Signing Today in Peddler’s Village!!!

If you’re looking for something fun to do on this gorgeous Sunday, come to the Apple Festival at Peddler’s Village in Lahaska, PA. While you’re there, stop by the Canterbury Tales Book Store between 2 p.m. and 4 p.m. and say hello. I’ll be signing my books, and munching on everything apple (including the world’s best chocolate covered apples!)

06
Nov
2011

Wedded Bliss

I used to think Salem, MA was only about witch hunts. Now I picture a gorgeous harbor teeming with gleaming boats, the house where Nathaniel Hawthorne was born, scrumptious and plentiful lobster rolls, and one glorious wedding weekend.

Lucky me. I got to attend the wedding of Morgan and Lindsay in the unique position of being a guest of both families. I’ve known the couple since before they began dating at 15, which was 11 years ago.  My son, who was best man, his girlfriend, and all his old high school buddies were there. I hate to throw around clichés like magical and spectacular. But honestly, that’s what the wedding was.

It was very untraditional. A magnificent Vera Wang bridal gown in a hue between ivory and butter yellow, and belted around the waist with a long black sash. A multi-tiered artistically rich wedding cake that was cut and put out on plates without any cake cutting ceremony.  No throwing of the bridal bouquet. No dancing until after we had finished our meals. (You could actually enjoy the food and talk to your table mates without screaming.) No tchotchkes on the table, just exquisite displays of yellow flowers.

With all the traditional wedding details avoided, the evening turned into one huge, outdoor party with a truly awesome band and a bridal couple that looked to thoroughly enjoy each and every minute, as well as each other.

Even the weather was perfect, and the venue remarkable. The wedding was held at the majestic Crane Estate. Picture a mini Versailles – maybe not so mini – in Ipswich, MA. The view from the slate patio where we partied for hours was of rolling green hills spilling into the ocean. It was dreamlike.

We boarded three big tour buses to go from our hotel in Salem to the estate so no one needed to drive. The party continued throughout the night with some hardy souls, most notably the bride and groom still dressed in their wedding attire, watching the sun come up. Amazingly the bride looked as gorgeous then as she did when she stepped onto the lawn with her parents.

I’ve spent much too much time today avoiding my work so I could look at the hundreds of pictures on Facebook and relive the wedding. I’m sure I’m not the only one doing this.

Morgan and Lindsay: I know you’re somewhere without Internet and still basking in the events of the past weekend. Just so you know, the rest of us are, too.

Love you guys.

02
Aug
2011

Book Talk at Borders for Father's Day

Looking for something to buy Dad for Father’s Day? I’ll be at the Borders in Bryn Mawr, PA on Saturday, June 18, 2011 from 4:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m.

Come chat with me about Dating for Dads. The Single Father’s Guide to Dating Well Without Parenting Poorly.

 If you’re a dad, come learn how to date while maintaining your wonderful, hard-earned relationship with your kids. If you’re a kid (whether 12 or 40) maybe Dad, his new significant other, and you can learn how to make this new development great for everyone.

And if you’re neither, come anyway. I’d love to meet you!

12
Jun
2011

To Ski or Not to Ski

As ski season winds down, I have a confession to make.

Every year I trudge out to Beaver Creek, Colorado with my kids and sometimes a spattering of relatives and significant others, impressing all my friends back east. They assume that I’m careening through the Rockies with a finesse and confidence like any other robust, tanned, fearless athlete. They imagine my day ending with well-earned drinks while still wearing my ski outfit and sitting at an outdoor bar.

They got that part right.

I DID start out doing downhill 20 years ago when I first brought my kids out west to ski. I was a novice then. Despite lessons (including private lessons which cost enough to cover meals for six for the week), and many billable hours on the slopes, top-notch equipment and really cute ski clothes, I never moved out of the novice category. At least, in my opinion.

“Mom, that’s not true,” my kids would surely say. “You’re good, just a little slow.”

In case you haven’t skied before, “slow” is the kiss of death in downhill skiing. It means the people with whom you’re skiing are impatiently waiting at the bottom of a mountain, which took them 10 minutes to descend, and is now taking you 60 as you traverse from one side to the other in a singsong motion (picture a conductor ever so gently slowing his musicians down for the mellow part of a sonata).

Honestly – and don’t lie Kids – after one run with me I have always offered to let them go off on their own and “Don’t worry about me. I’m happy staying on this run.” A couple protestations, but then they’d happily trail off to the lift that would take them from the greens to the blacks.

Fortunately for me, I have finally found something that allows me to wear all my old ski clothes, and not pop a Xanax before heading out to the slopes: Cross country. There are still hills in cross country, and you can still fall, but much of the pressure is off. No downhill skiers are swishing by you at warped speed, making you feel old and encumbered. In fact, to be quite frank, you need stronger lungs to get through a day cross country skiing than you do downhill.

Beaver Creek boasts the most beautiful and largest Nordic park in the world. It’s 500 acres of pure snowy Rocky Mountain bliss, virtually untouched by humans unless they are on cross country skis or snowshoes. As far as the eye can see there are breathtaking views of the mountains and virgin snow dotted with wildlife prints. You do need to take a significant chair lift to get to the park; its elevation is 10,000 feet so it’s not for the faint of heights. But the views and the conditions are worth it.

And the best part? When you come down off the mountain, you can still meet all your alpine skiing friends for a drink at the outside bar.

Ah. What a great day on the slopes.

29
Mar
2011


© 2011-2012 Ellie's Blog All Rights Reserved -- Copyright notice by Blog Copyright