Lessons Learned- Day Two

While happy to be in the Bahamas, jet lag refused to let me get 'up and at 'em' the next day. I made a conscious decision not to get all uptight about where to go and what to do so I got up when I felt rested, took my time in the shower and wandered up to the next floor to meet my friend. By the time we got our act together, it was past lunch time. We ate a late lunch, explored the resort and decided since it was so late, we would get ready to go to the pool/beach, but wait for the girls to finish dancing for the day.

Shortly after 4, we laid out our towels and took the first plunge into the pool. It felt so good to be lazy and relaxed. We decided that we didn't care how late dinner was because we had a late lunch and we were thoroughly enjoying ourselves.

Time flies when you are relaxed! After lying on a lounge chair for about an hour and a half (but what seemed like 20 minutes at the most), we strolled back into the pool to cool off. We were in the pool for about 5 minutes when the lifeguard blew a whistle. Everyone started to get out, but we just floated along, chatting and paddling around. Soon the lifeguard was blowing his shrill and annoying whistle again and pointing right at us.

"What's the problem?" I asked him

"Pool closing!" he said in his local accent.

"Closing?" we said in unison "What time does the pool close?"

"Six PM madam" said the lifeguard

Who has ever hear of a pool closing at 6 pm? I love night swimming the best! I intentionally avoid the worst heat of the day to insure that I don't get burned! Begrudgingly we got out and toweled off and went to get ready for dinner.

Our little group (2 moms and 4-6 girls) puzzled over the early pool closure was we made out way to the Marina area where shops and restaurants were. I began to notice that everyone in the entire place was headed the same direction. I pointed this out and everyone agreed that earlier, when we had been on the Marina, the shops had very few people in them. Now they were full to capacity and doing a booming business. We noticed the layout of the resort and the Marina and the way we all headed where they wanted us. It seems perfectly natural if you don't think too much about it. Since we were thinking about it, we felt a little like sheep. It was insulting to our intelligence. Resorts especially Atlantis and such use blatant tactics including psychology to steer you to where you need to be to spend more money. They don't really care what you want to do as long as you are doing what they want you to do.

Lesson Two: Be aware when you are being manipulated or herded like sheep!

Lessons Learned- Day One

IN July, when I was in the Bahamas with my 15 year old daughter and one of her best friends, we stayed at a resort that was so expensive and commercial that every day brought a teaching moment. I am going to see if I can remember all of the lessons we learned each day.

Day one-After a long night and day of red-eye flights, stopovers and changes of planes, we arrived at the Atlantis resort to check in. I had decided that I didn't want to leave my credit cared 'open' with them and called ahead to make sure that they would let me pay cash. They said I could. When we checked in, they acted like they had never seen cash before and didn't want to take it. When the 'authorized my credit card for our complete stay plus $150 per day per person over and above the amount of our bill, a total of almost $6,000...even after I paid cash for the room, of course my credit card declined. I didn't take a credit card with that much open on it! I had already bought flights, withdrawn cash for the hotel and had enough cash and travelers checks to eat for a few days.

The lady behind the counter looked distressed and said "Your card declined" .

I asked how much she ran on it and almost fell over when she told me.
"Why do you need that much when I just gave you cash for the room?" I said

" We will hold the cash on account, but we still need to run your card for incidentals" she replied.

"We will not have any incidentals" I retorted.

"What about the restaurants?" she asked

"What about them?" I said "I plan to use cash!"

Although she was staring as if I were completely out-of-the-galaxy insane, she said she would only run $100 per day for incidentals and the cost of the room without taxes and the other 5 or 6 additional charges they smack you with. She then handed me the room keys with our names printed on them and told me that the key is our credit card while at the resort.

"Whoa...hold on a minute!" I said "You mean to tell me that my 15 year old daughter and her 15 year old friend now have Ca rte Blanche with my credit card?"

"I guess if you look at it that way...yes." She said patiently.

"They are really good, trustworthy girls, but why would I do that? No way do I want the girls to be able to charge on the room key!" I said getting a little impatient with this ridiculous process.

"What about the incidentals?" She asked again.

"They have their own cash and they will use that." I said as she took the key-cards back from me to reprogram them."

Later on, we were settled in our rooms and taking a look around the resort and decided that we were hungry and should get some lunch. After finding a place that looked promising, we ordered our lunch (very expensive I might add) and when we tried to give them our cash, they said that they were a no-cash establishment.

As it turned out, none of the restaurants at the resort accept cash. We had to leave the resort and go to the attached Marina to eat and even at that, there were only three places that we could use cash; a pizza place, Johnny Rocket's and a diner that had $17 grilled cheese sandwiches!

The girls were trying to figure out what the motivation for refusing cash could be and as I thought the answer came to me. This is what I told the girls:

When you have cash in your hot little hand and you are about to spend some, you look at your cash-flow, look at the price and plan accordingly. When you get your change, you know exactly what you have left and splurge or rein yourself in accordingly. HOWEVER...When you use credit, you round off numbers in your mind, forget what you have spent and overbuy, overspend and overindulge. This is what the want you do to!

Lesson number one: It is always better to use cash if you can!

Election Reflection

Today Jeffrey Scott Shapiro has a really good article on The Wall Street Journal site about President Bush entitled "The Treatment of Bush Has Been a Disgrace." In the article, the author states:

The treatment President Bush has received from this country is nothing less than a disgrace. The attacks launched against him have been cruel and slanderous, proving to the world what little character and resolve we have. The president is not to blame for all these problems. He never lost faith in America or her people, and has tried his hardest to continue leading our nation during a very difficult time.

Our failure to stand by the one person who continued to stand by us has not gone unnoticed by our enemies. It has shown to the world how disloyal we can be when our president needed loyalty -- a shameful display of arrogance and weakness that will haunt this nation long after Mr. Bush has left the White House.

I'm not usually that much into politics. Although I have my opinions, I don't get into heated discussions about them. I don't really like conflict so I avoid it. I have to say though, this time I am really disappointed in many of the outcomes of this election as well as pleased with others.

All we can do is watch. listen, pray and hope for the best.

Forward and Prologue to "How to Give Up" by Michelle Wardleigh Edis

Forward

This book was written by inspiration as therapy. It burned and churned around in my mind until it was down on paper. Now, as I read back through it, it is like a ghost, and although I remember it, the details are hazy unless specifically called to memory.

Because of the nature of my story, all of the names have been changed to protect the anonymity of the children and others who are named. Some day, they may wish to identify themselves for reasons of their own, but for now, this is my story, not theirs.

Michelle Edis







Prologue

Let me start by telling you a little about my childhood. I came from a family of Revolutionary and Pioneer stock. I was born in 1963 in Ogden, Utah to teenage parents…one active in the church and one active in small spurts throughout my lifetime. My mother always felt that the church (besides being true and the right thing to do) was what grounded us. The church was the central part of our lives with her. My father always felt that the church might be true, but they really had no business telling him whether he could smoke or drink. His activity depended solely on how good our home teacher was at the moment or if there was someone else making an all out effort to get him out to activities and such. He had callings where the current bishop, whoever that might be, would try to activate him subtly. They would call him to be Cub leader or Ward Softball Coordinator. My family was sealed in the Logan temple when I was about three years old. The church had a program called ‘Operation Temple”. It was to help un-endowed members get ready for the temple. My dad really liked the teacher so he went along with it.

I remember when I was 7 years old we went to talk to the bishop about my upcoming baptism. The bishop gave my dad the old “Are you willing to do what it takes to baptize your daughter?” talk. My dad spent the next few weeks kicking the habit or habits as the case was. He was allowed to baptize and confirm me, but I was fully aware that when my family went for a Sunday afternoon picnic in the park after my confirmation, that my dad bought a pack of cigarettes from a kiosk at the park. I wondered if my baptism counted. I thought that maybe if I was a better kid my dad would not have to smoke and drink. It was not until I was a freshman at Rick’s College that a Patriarch set me straight when I went to get my Patriarchal Blessing. I swore to myself then, that I would never marry anyone inactive. I wanted a strong Priesthood holder as my husband!

As an adolescent, I was grouchy and did not like being told what to do. I complained about how boring church was and told my teachers that I was only there because my mother made me come. This was right around the time when we had just gone to the block schedule. If the truth were known, I would have gone anyway. I knew that I belonged in church and that it was the right thing to do, but I was just exerting my own independence. I never tried alcohol or tobacco or drugs of any kind, I was morally clean, but my attitude stunk!

When I was 16, I fell in serious like with a boy that honored his Priesthood, obeyed his parents and never complained about church. I started going to his ward and my ward. I stopped complaining because I did not want him to know what a brat I had been. After pretending to listen in Sacrament a few times, I discovered that if one listens instead of thinking about how one can’t wait to get out of there, the time passes ever so quickly and most of what you hear can be down right interesting.

As the years passed and I dated some, but not as much as others, I became bitter about the opposite sex. I felt like I was not pretty enough or skinny enough and that all men were shallow and basically idiots. There was the ideal man that our Young Women’s advisors told us about and then there were the guys we actually met. There seemed to be a disparaging difference in the two. I felt painfully shy around them and so I became known as a snob because I wasn’t talkative and flirty. I had some very good girl friends and we spurned men together. I spent a year at Rick’s college and all of my roommates dated but my only dates were to Preference. In retrospect I think those years were very good for me. I developed myself and did many things I wanted to do and did some traveling and playing without the worries of being a wife or mother. Some of my friends that married young were feeling like they missed out by the time they were 26. I never felt that I had missed out. Still, it hurt every time a friend married off. I felt that I would probably never marry.

Then I met Don. One weekend I went to a Young Adult Dance and they called it a celebrity dance. Everyone was given a celebrity identity and all the guys were given a dance card with the names of celebrities on them. When a dance was announced, the guy had to find the girl that matched the name on their list. It was clever way to mix everyone up. I ended up dancing once with Don, a good-looking, 19 year old, new member that had only been baptized two weeks earlier. I made a mental note to be nice to him since he was a new member.

Over the next few months, I saw him and talked to him at all the Young Adult activities and we became superficial friends. I actually thought he was shallow and arrogant, but I liked his easy demeanor and he was a really good dancer. Since I loved to dance, it worked out well. Talking to him did not seem like the other guys. He did not make me nervous and he just seemed like a person to me…not a guy!

He moved away shortly after that to live with his grandmother in Southern California. I pretty much forgot about him after that, until one night at a Young Adult dance, I ran into him. I had forgotten his name, but remembered his face. He told me that “a bunch of us are going to have a testimony meeting after the dance…do you want to come?” I figured I might as well. It turned out that we went to Lions and ate hot fudge sundaes instead. It was a lot of fun and our acquaintance was renewed.

Over the months that we became friends, he would date every girl in the stake and region and then tell me all. Every time it did not work out with one, he would tell me how he just wanted to find a girl like me. One time some girls that he had met in Southern California came to visit him and even though they were exceptionally cold to me at first, they ended their weekend visit by telling me that they had given me their stamp of approval and that they wanted to be my friend too. I began to correspond with Mildred and Cathleen on a regular basis.

As my friendship with Don continued, he would always emphasize that he really wanted to serve a mission. It took two years, but he finally got his mission call at 21 years old. He asked me to wait for him and I agreed.

While Don was on his mission, I filled my time with more things for me. I worked full time during the day, and at night, I performed in a local dinner theater. I traveled to Southern California to visit Mildred and Cathleen on a regular basis. I traveled to Utah to visit old room-mates from Ricks. I also took out my endowments and regularly attended the temple with my mother or my ward or with the Young Adults. When his mission was nearly complete, we had decided to get married 2 months after his return.

When Don came home from his mission, he stayed with a family in our ward and we saw each other every waking minute. After 3 ½ weeks, on a Wednesday evening, we decided to elope…to the Salt Lake City temple. He called his mission president, who now was released and living in Centerville, Utah and they were able to arrange a sealing for us right away at the Salt Lake temple. We saw our bishops, stake presidents and then, with my mother and younger brother and sister, we took off for the 16 hour drive from Northern California to Salt Lake City. Everyone was welcomed to the home of the mission president and his wonderful wife. By Friday night, we were married and sealed in the temple and off to a one-night honeymoon at the Salt Lake Marriott.

The next morning, when my mother picked us up, Don sat in the back seat, sullen and quiet. I was elated. I was so happy to be Mrs. Somebody. I had done everything exactly as I was taught in Young Women’s. I had stayed morally clean, I had stayed close to the church, I had married an R.M. and now life would be great! I asked Don what the matter was and he told me “I think I have just made the biggest mistake of my life…”

Old Friends

I think that I tend to hold on to old friends more than some. I get attached to people...not in a creepy stalker way, but in a connected way. I am always sad to see friends and acquaintances move on. I am the one that remembers birthdays from long ago people in my life. I am the one with vivid, technicolor memories of every detail about what was said, worn, thought, eaten, surrounding, decorating etc.

I think my attachments come from a place of shyness and a reluctance to make myself vulnerable and meet new people. I often was mistaken for clique-ish, when in reality, I was terrified.

I don't know why I often think of people I 'used to know' and wonder where they are, what they are doing, how they have fared. I wonder if they ever wonder about me. Maybe it's weird, but I think people who move on and never look back are weird.

I think looking back can give us perspective.

Today, out of the blue, I got a friend request from the first boyfriend I ever had. I was 16 years old and convinced that I would live my life alone because of my shyness and he was the one that broke the ice. He also broke my heart...sort of.

Looking back with the perspective of a woman that has lived through horrors not even imagined to that silly girl I used to be, I know that I was very naive and irrationally afraid of the opposite gender.

I now have friends of both genders, a husband I am crazy about, an ex-husband I can get along with if I must and I value friendship above many other things. I can think of this boy, now a grown man, and be grateful for his friendship and the effort he took to find me on facebook. It feels sort of nostalgic and warming. I now know that at least one person has wondered at least for one moment..."what ever happened to Michelle?"

Thanks Shon, you made my day.

Nanny

After a weekend of lying on the couch, hour after hour, watching TV and dozing, I am finally back. I still feel pretty crummy, but I can sit upright without feeling dizzy.

Yesterday my sister, Brenda called me and told me that her family is going to Disney Land. Her husband, Matt, has to go to some meetings for work and they are putting him up at one of the Disney Resorts and he can take his family. I was only kidding when I said

"I'll be your nanny!"

Brenda said that they actually wanted to get someone to go with them and why not me? They are going to fly me down to help Brenda with the kids at Disney Land while he is in meetings for two days. I will stay with the kids while Brenda and Matt 'go play' alone without the ball and chain that kids can be. I am so excited. I really miss my little nephews and my little neice. I don't think she will remember me.

Sick and Tired

Today I am really sick and tired. I mean I woke up with a sore throat, a tooth ache and runny nose and I could use some more sleep.

Besides being sick and tired, I have felt today like I don't care about anything. I'm definitely having feelings of giving up. (Don't worry, they're not severe giving up feelings...just apathy)

Mark's ex-wife is getting away with more than I ever thought possible. I wish we could just cancel this custody mess, but it's not like a house that we have lost the bid on or a really nice living room suite that just won't fit the room. No! This is a living, breathing child. I know this child. He needs a normal home with well adjusted, normal thinking parents. Instead, he has a whacked out mother and the courts won't do anything about it.

I think today's apathy comes from a place of disbelief that the world, the courts, a mother could be so unfair. We grow up thinking that eventually good always prevails over evil. Not so.

Turtle

Why is my url http://www.turtlesneedlovetoo.blogspot.com/?

When I was in fifth grade. (Grade 5 for all you Canadians!) I had a teacher named Mr. Kalumaji. Mr. Kalumaji loved sports! I did not love sports!

Near the beginning of the school year, my best friend was murdered, (That's for another blog another day) I turned 11 and put on a bit of 'puberty' weight after being a fairly thin child most of my life and Mr. Kalumaji decided that it would be a good idea to make us run a 50 yard dash every day.

First, we ran for a week every day to get a 'base time'. Then for the rest of the entire first semester we ran that dang 50 yard dash every single day, rain or shine. If the weather was too awful, he would set it up to run in the gym/cafeteria. Every day of every week, each student shaved a millisecond off their time...except me. My time stayed the same and sometimes was even worse.

Let me tell you, when I was born pigeon toes and knock-kneed, I wore special shoes until I was about 9 years old. When I was 2 1/2, I was enrolled in dance with the thought that the ballet would be therapeutic and fun. I loved dance! I became a good dancer (if I don't say so myself).

As semester wore on and I continued to worsen my running time, my self esteem plummeted, making me run slower still. One boy, Joe, told me I was as slow as a turtle. Soon all the boys were calling me turtle. After a while, even some of the girls called me turtle. I think they forgot I had a name. It was so hurtful that sometimes I would hide in the girl's bathroom and cry so no one could see.

At the semester report card time, I got my usual straight A's with an F in P.E.. I was so afraid to show my report card to my parents that I hid it for a week before my mother asked about it. Eventually I gave it to her and braced myself for the worst.

As she questioned me, I told her through my tears, runny nose and hiccups how we ran the 50 yard dash every day; how the teacher yelled at me for being slow; how the kids called me turtle.

"They are all good at running!" I cried "I'm just not good at running! I have other things I'm good at, but not running. I bet they would all get F's and I would get the A if we did...TAP DANCING for P.E.!"

It all turned out okay. My Mom called Mr. Maniscalco, the principal, and made an appointment to see him. She showed him the report card, explained about the 50 yard dash and my physical limitations. Mr. Maniscalco had a soft heart and a son with little to no athletic ability and agreed that I should not have received an F. I can't really remember what grade I got, I don't think it was an A, but Mr. Kalumaji did not force us to run the 50 yard dash again. For those that wanted to, they could, but a second option was made available to the run-haters like me.

To this day, I still WILL NOT run (unless someone is chasing me with a very big knife) and I would still love to see Mr. Kalumaji tap dance.

Turtles do need love too!

Where to begin

I don't know why I am doing this, except perhaps as an outlet for myself. I think we all feel sometimes that we are very alone and for me, getting my thoughts out on paper or in this case, cyberspace, gives me a release.

I have had a life that is anything but boring. I don't always think chronilogically, so I may not write it that way, either.