I know it's easy to set things aside and forget. Things get lost. We think we'll do it later. I do it all the time.
Just do it.
RSVP. It's just good manners.And you never know when you might be the host.
Showing posts with label Manners. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Manners. Show all posts
Thursday, September 29, 2011
RSVPin'
I'm sure that none of you reading this need this reminder, but when you're invited to a function and an RSVP is asked for, do it.
I know it's easy to set things aside and forget. Things get lost. We think we'll do it later. I do it all the time.
Just do it.
I just did the budget review of our daughter's wedding. Not having an accurate count, even a week before the wedding, cost us right at $900. I am not complaining. The party was worth every penny, and then some. But I think we tend to forget that there's a good reason hosts need to know if we are coming.
RSVP. It's just good manners.And you never know when you might be the host.
I know it's easy to set things aside and forget. Things get lost. We think we'll do it later. I do it all the time.
Just do it.
RSVP. It's just good manners.And you never know when you might be the host.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Jane, not Janie
Often I'll start writing a post and set it aside, only to discover that a friend has beat me to the posting. Usually it's a current event or reaction to another blog post. I generally choose not to post my repetitive post and leave a lamenting "you beat me to it" comment on the other blog.
But this week it has happened with an un-timely, un-current topic. And since I already had my post on names mostly written on Wednesday morning, I'm going to go ahead and post it, even though Pastor Petersen posted about names already this week.
So here's my original post:
Last night I was talking to some friends about what we call certain people and why. It was an interesting conversation and it got me thinking about the relationships between what we call each other and how we perceive each other and the power that names have.
Growing up I was Janie. I hated the nickname almost as much as I hated my name. In a world of Lauras and Loris and Lisas and Amys and Julies and Kims and every variety of Kr/Chris(ti)(na)(ne) I was plain Jane. When I was going into eighth grade we moved and I decided to shed Janie. I was Jane. I still didn't like it, but at least it wasn't a little kid name.
Of course, it wasn't quite as easy for the people who had called me Janie for 14 years to embrace the new name. It took years before most of my aunts and uncles called me Jane. Sometimes they still slip. My mom caught on the most quickly, because she was likely to be in trouble with the teen-aged me if she didn't. My grandma still called me Janie until she died last year. She also had the most nicknames for me. Now, no one calls me Janie except for my mother-in-law, who didn't know me when I was, but picked it up from my husband.
We were raised to call adults not related to us Mr. & Mrs. Aunts and uncles are called Aunt and Uncle, even when they were only a few years older and we sat and nursed our babies together. My mom is Mom, after being Mommy when I was little. But for some reason, I'm Mama. I don't know how or why, but that's what my kids call me. My kids are taught to call adults by their last names, although from time to time there are adults who end up being on a first name basis. I'm never quite comfortable with this, even though it doesn't bother me when certain kids call me Jane.
Sometimes it isn't easy to know what to call someone. One of my friends is often in business situations with her mother and feels awkward calling her Mom, so she calls her by her first name. But she's been called to task for it, and wanted to know what we thought. I told her that I still call my mom Mom, even in business situations. That relationship trumps business relationships.
With blended families come new name challenges. My mom started dating Ron when I was a senior in high school. He told us to call him Ron. Twenty-five years later, when he has been married to my mother for over twenty years, is Grandpa to my kids, and has been a wonderful father to me, Ron doesn't seem sufficient. I can't call him Dad. There was someone who had that name. My brother calls him JR, his initials. I call him Wicked. He used to identify himself as my wicked step-father when he called, and it stuck. It is an ironic and completely affectionate name for one of my favorite people, but from the outside it probably sounds strange.
Nicknames can be affectionate or the opposite. When my brother calls me Sis 'O Mine or I call him Martian, it's affectionate, but we had less affectionate names for each other as kids. My kids are Beppy, Patchy, Jon-Jon, & Gussy. (Or as they've gotten older Bep, Patch, Jon and Gus.) D
Don't call them Beth, Pat, Jonny, or Andy. Especially not Andy.
By the way, I like my name now. I was named for my great-grandmother. Jane is a good grown-up name.
But this week it has happened with an un-timely, un-current topic. And since I already had my post on names mostly written on Wednesday morning, I'm going to go ahead and post it, even though Pastor Petersen posted about names already this week.
So here's my original post:
Last night I was talking to some friends about what we call certain people and why. It was an interesting conversation and it got me thinking about the relationships between what we call each other and how we perceive each other and the power that names have.
Growing up I was Janie. I hated the nickname almost as much as I hated my name. In a world of Lauras and Loris and Lisas and Amys and Julies and Kims and every variety of Kr/Chris(ti)(na)(ne) I was plain Jane. When I was going into eighth grade we moved and I decided to shed Janie. I was Jane. I still didn't like it, but at least it wasn't a little kid name.
Of course, it wasn't quite as easy for the people who had called me Janie for 14 years to embrace the new name. It took years before most of my aunts and uncles called me Jane. Sometimes they still slip. My mom caught on the most quickly, because she was likely to be in trouble with the teen-aged me if she didn't. My grandma still called me Janie until she died last year. She also had the most nicknames for me. Now, no one calls me Janie except for my mother-in-law, who didn't know me when I was, but picked it up from my husband.
We were raised to call adults not related to us Mr. & Mrs. Aunts and uncles are called Aunt and Uncle, even when they were only a few years older and we sat and nursed our babies together. My mom is Mom, after being Mommy when I was little. But for some reason, I'm Mama. I don't know how or why, but that's what my kids call me. My kids are taught to call adults by their last names, although from time to time there are adults who end up being on a first name basis. I'm never quite comfortable with this, even though it doesn't bother me when certain kids call me Jane.
Sometimes it isn't easy to know what to call someone. One of my friends is often in business situations with her mother and feels awkward calling her Mom, so she calls her by her first name. But she's been called to task for it, and wanted to know what we thought. I told her that I still call my mom Mom, even in business situations. That relationship trumps business relationships.
With blended families come new name challenges. My mom started dating Ron when I was a senior in high school. He told us to call him Ron. Twenty-five years later, when he has been married to my mother for over twenty years, is Grandpa to my kids, and has been a wonderful father to me, Ron doesn't seem sufficient. I can't call him Dad. There was someone who had that name. My brother calls him JR, his initials. I call him Wicked. He used to identify himself as my wicked step-father when he called, and it stuck. It is an ironic and completely affectionate name for one of my favorite people, but from the outside it probably sounds strange.
Nicknames can be affectionate or the opposite. When my brother calls me Sis 'O Mine or I call him Martian, it's affectionate, but we had less affectionate names for each other as kids. My kids are Beppy, Patchy, Jon-Jon, & Gussy. (Or as they've gotten older Bep, Patch, Jon and Gus.) D
Don't call them Beth, Pat, Jonny, or Andy. Especially not Andy.
By the way, I like my name now. I was named for my great-grandmother. Jane is a good grown-up name.
Friday, December 21, 2007
A little game
Shopping this time of year makes me crazy. Everyone is in a hurry. The people who work in the stores are exhausted. There's too much traffic. I'm not the most patient person by nature, so I sometimes try to do things to amuse myself to keep from turning into the Grinch.
Yesterday I played a little game. I wanted to see how many people I could make smile and/or wave at me while I was in my car. (I briefly considered seeing how many people I could make jump frantically out of my way, but I don't think Bethany would have let me.)
I am usually pretty good about letting people cross in front of me, pull out into traffic, etc. But I discovered that when you do that and give them a big smile, almost everyone smiles back. They don't just hold their hand up in a quick wave of acknowledgment. They smile! There was only one person all day who didn't smile at me. Bethany and I decided that--from the way she looked--she was probably on her lunch hour and preoccupied with everything she needed to accomplish in that short time period, so we cut her some slack and didn't run over her.
Yesterday I played a little game. I wanted to see how many people I could make smile and/or wave at me while I was in my car. (I briefly considered seeing how many people I could make jump frantically out of my way, but I don't think Bethany would have let me.)
I am usually pretty good about letting people cross in front of me, pull out into traffic, etc. But I discovered that when you do that and give them a big smile, almost everyone smiles back. They don't just hold their hand up in a quick wave of acknowledgment. They smile! There was only one person all day who didn't smile at me. Bethany and I decided that--from the way she looked--she was probably on her lunch hour and preoccupied with everything she needed to accomplish in that short time period, so we cut her some slack and didn't run over her.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Heavy sigh...
I will not write posts with any attempt at humor. I will not write posts with any attempt at humor. I will not write posts with any attempt at humor.
Now that I've been suitably punished:
Some of you got my earlier posts on dressing as what they were. Maybe because you know me. Maybe because I declared my curmudgeonly intent at the beginning. Sarcasm and exaggeration were present in abundance.
So for those of you who don't know me:
I have friends who dress well. I have friends who don't. I don't care.
I don't care if you wear a baseball cap in a four star restaurant, unless you're with me. (But, guess what! It's okay for me to have a little pet peeve about that!) I do on the other hand care if you wear shorts so brief that I'm seeing parts of your anatomy better left unexposed.
I don't care if you wear jeans to church. I'm not going to, but you can if you want to. And that is an entirely different conversation.
I do, however, think that the way you dress shows respect--or lack thereof--for where you are and what you are doing. I don't think that the growing casualness in our society is a good thing. Businesses and schools are recognizing this. There have been a number of articles lately discussing the retreat from casual attire in the workplace and many schools and school districts have instituted uniform policies or stronger dress codes, because they know that how people dress has an impact on how they think and act.
As for the guy in the baseball cap that some of you seem so concerned about: The baseball cap was just one thing. If it had been a good match she could have trained him not to wear the hat at the table, inside a building, while talking to a lady. (And yes, for those of you who don't know me and have judged me to be judgmental, I have a HUGE grin on my face as I type that.) It just wasn't a fit.
(Oh--and for anonymous if you are curious--there are many websites with proper hat etiquette. You are fine with your hat on in the mall. It is considered the same as a street. But as soon as you go into an eatery, it should come off.)
Friday, August 31, 2007
Ball caps revisited
One of the comments on my baseball cap post, by "anonymous" led me to wish to post more on this.
I think maybe your opinion about someone's outer appearance should be a little less judgemental (sic). I don't know... just a thought. Maybe that guy who met your friend for coffee just wanted to keep it a casual thing and thought nothing of it. Ya never know.
Whether we like it or not, people are going to judge us based on appearance. It's a fact. It's part of the reason the fashion industry is huge. Everyone knows that part of others' first impression of them is going to be based on what they are wearing. It's why job seekers--and generally people on a first date--make that extra effort to look good.
The way we dress also expresses our attitude toward the place we are going and the people around us. Keeping a hat on in a restaurant or coffee shop is still considered disrespectful and ill-mannered. The few dismissals I've seen of this rule are of the "we're gonna do it, so get over it" variety. Not exactly respectful.
In our society judgment has become a dirty word. But judgment is not a bad thing. This is the definition from the American Heritage dictionary:
In fact, better judgment could save a lot of pain. Girls. If he comes to pick you up for a date in a cap set askew and a tank top, just stay home. (Unless you're going boating, to play softball, etc.) But, if it's for dinner, forget it. They don't call sleeveless white shirts "wife-beaters" for no reason.
We all make judgments every day about the people we see. Most of them are at the unconscious or subconscious level. We notice whether people are clean, whether they seem to care about their appearance, whether their clothes are appropriate. Sometimes we may notice their attitude, whether positive or negative. Depending on the circumstances this can help us know how to deal with that person.
The young man in the coffee shop with the baseball cap may, indeed, have thought nothing of it. And that is precisely the problem.
I think maybe your opinion about someone's outer appearance should be a little less judgemental (sic). I don't know... just a thought. Maybe that guy who met your friend for coffee just wanted to keep it a casual thing and thought nothing of it. Ya never know.
Whether we like it or not, people are going to judge us based on appearance. It's a fact. It's part of the reason the fashion industry is huge. Everyone knows that part of others' first impression of them is going to be based on what they are wearing. It's why job seekers--and generally people on a first date--make that extra effort to look good.
The way we dress also expresses our attitude toward the place we are going and the people around us. Keeping a hat on in a restaurant or coffee shop is still considered disrespectful and ill-mannered. The few dismissals I've seen of this rule are of the "we're gonna do it, so get over it" variety. Not exactly respectful.
In our society judgment has become a dirty word. But judgment is not a bad thing. This is the definition from the American Heritage dictionary:
- The act or process of judging; the formation of an opinion after consideration or deliberation.
- The mental ability to perceive and distinguish relationships; discernment: Fatigue may affect a pilot's judgment of distances.
- The capacity to form an opinion by distinguishing and evaluating: His judgment of fine music is impeccable.
- The capacity to assess situations or circumstances and draw sound conclusions; good sense: She showed good judgment in saving her money. See Synonyms at reason.
In fact, better judgment could save a lot of pain. Girls. If he comes to pick you up for a date in a cap set askew and a tank top, just stay home. (Unless you're going boating, to play softball, etc.) But, if it's for dinner, forget it. They don't call sleeveless white shirts "wife-beaters" for no reason.
We all make judgments every day about the people we see. Most of them are at the unconscious or subconscious level. We notice whether people are clean, whether they seem to care about their appearance, whether their clothes are appropriate. Sometimes we may notice their attitude, whether positive or negative. Depending on the circumstances this can help us know how to deal with that person.
The young man in the coffee shop with the baseball cap may, indeed, have thought nothing of it. And that is precisely the problem.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
And please take off that stupid cap!
Still in curmudgeon mode:
I love to see men in hats. Real hats. Baseball caps are not hats. Baseball caps belong on boys. The only men who should be wearing baseball caps are those playing the game.
I was never annoyed by the ubiquitous billed caps until I started noticing a trend. Guys who wear them don't realize that they aren't supposed to leave them on inside. I have noticed that men who wear real hats tend to be very polite. They remove them inside. They remove them in the presence of a lady. Some of them even doff them. Unfortunately, the same cannot often be said of the overgrown boys who wear baseball caps. I know a very proper young lady who met a guy for coffee. He never took off his cap. Even if he had been fantastic in every other way, he wouldn't have had a chance.
I can understand why the guy doesn't want to take his cap off walking through Walmart or Gander Mountain. I'll cut him some slack. But when he's sitting in a restaurant--white tablecloth, cloth napkins, wine list--he needs to take it off. He also needs to wear a shirt with arms. Please.
ADDENDUM: Yes, many of the men I love wear baseball caps. My favorite bald guy often wears a baseball cap. My wonderful brother wears a baseball cap. That doesn't mean that I have to like it. And if they ever displayed poor hat etiquette, I would probably confiscate the hats. (My favorite bald guy is making a transition to real hats. He looks so incredible in his winter dress hat with his suit and overcoat on!)
I love to see men in hats. Real hats. Baseball caps are not hats. Baseball caps belong on boys. The only men who should be wearing baseball caps are those playing the game.
I was never annoyed by the ubiquitous billed caps until I started noticing a trend. Guys who wear them don't realize that they aren't supposed to leave them on inside. I have noticed that men who wear real hats tend to be very polite. They remove them inside. They remove them in the presence of a lady. Some of them even doff them. Unfortunately, the same cannot often be said of the overgrown boys who wear baseball caps. I know a very proper young lady who met a guy for coffee. He never took off his cap. Even if he had been fantastic in every other way, he wouldn't have had a chance.
I can understand why the guy doesn't want to take his cap off walking through Walmart or Gander Mountain. I'll cut him some slack. But when he's sitting in a restaurant--white tablecloth, cloth napkins, wine list--he needs to take it off. He also needs to wear a shirt with arms. Please.
ADDENDUM: Yes, many of the men I love wear baseball caps. My favorite bald guy often wears a baseball cap. My wonderful brother wears a baseball cap. That doesn't mean that I have to like it. And if they ever displayed poor hat etiquette, I would probably confiscate the hats. (My favorite bald guy is making a transition to real hats. He looks so incredible in his winter dress hat with his suit and overcoat on!)
Have some dignity
This post is going to sound rather curmudgeonly, but I am sick of seeing flesh everywhere I go. Way too much flesh. Whatever happened to leaving something to the imagination?
Last week my friend Polly sent me a link to this site about shorts. Last night Bethany and I kept seeing women who needed to see this site. Or a mirror. Seriously.
I don't wear shorts unless I'm playing tennis or--maybe--working outside. I am also one of those people who is always hot. I am living, breathing, walking, shopping, dining-out proof that a woman can dress comfortably in the summer without wearing shorts. I wish more of them would try it!
I don't have anything against shorts. Really. Slender young women with toned legs should definitely wear shorts if they want to. Fat fifty year olds should not, especially not short shorts with a tank top to the restaurant where I am paying over $20 a person for dinner. (Such a woman also should not eat her salad with her fork and the fingers of her other hand while chewing with her mouth open, but I digress.)
I also don't have anything against legs. But I do have something against fat thighs making shorts ride up until everyone can see way more of those legs--and other things-- than they ever wanted to.
There are several other posts coming on this topic and others related.
ADDENDUM: I do realize that there are some times and places for shorts: parks, beaches, amusement parks, etc. I don't even care if people want to wear them to the grocery store. Or the mall. Or Steak and Shake. Seeing women in nice shorts that come to somewhere between mid-thigh and above the knee is fine. But with very very few exceptions shorts don't belong in nice restaurants. And most women should never, ever wear shorts that hit higher than mid-thigh.
Last week my friend Polly sent me a link to this site about shorts. Last night Bethany and I kept seeing women who needed to see this site. Or a mirror. Seriously.
I don't wear shorts unless I'm playing tennis or--maybe--working outside. I am also one of those people who is always hot. I am living, breathing, walking, shopping, dining-out proof that a woman can dress comfortably in the summer without wearing shorts. I wish more of them would try it!
I don't have anything against shorts. Really. Slender young women with toned legs should definitely wear shorts if they want to. Fat fifty year olds should not, especially not short shorts with a tank top to the restaurant where I am paying over $20 a person for dinner. (Such a woman also should not eat her salad with her fork and the fingers of her other hand while chewing with her mouth open, but I digress.)
I also don't have anything against legs. But I do have something against fat thighs making shorts ride up until everyone can see way more of those legs--and other things-- than they ever wanted to.
There are several other posts coming on this topic and others related.
ADDENDUM: I do realize that there are some times and places for shorts: parks, beaches, amusement parks, etc. I don't even care if people want to wear them to the grocery store. Or the mall. Or Steak and Shake. Seeing women in nice shorts that come to somewhere between mid-thigh and above the knee is fine. But with very very few exceptions shorts don't belong in nice restaurants. And most women should never, ever wear shorts that hit higher than mid-thigh.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Sartorial agony
This piece by Lars Walker on the American Spectator site was a very timely read for me.
We've had our first warm days here in the midwest during the past two weeks and people are coming out from under their winter coats. I wish most people would keep them on. As I wondered through our local outdoor shopping center last week I was once again assaulted by cleavage and muffin tops.
As it gets warmer we will have the opportunity to read all sorts of vile messages on t-shirts. We'll have the pleasure of sitting next to some hairy guy in a tank top at a nice restaurant or some 60 year old woman wearing shorts and a t-shirt to the philharmonic. I'm just hopeful that the news has reached the young women of Fort Wayne that ultra-low jeans displaying a thong are OUT.
Join me in my crusade. Wear a dress to that concert. Don't go shopping in sweats. Wear clothes that don't grip your torso. And please, please, don't let your husband or son wear and tank top and baseball cap to a restaurant.
HT: Cranach
We've had our first warm days here in the midwest during the past two weeks and people are coming out from under their winter coats. I wish most people would keep them on. As I wondered through our local outdoor shopping center last week I was once again assaulted by cleavage and muffin tops.
As it gets warmer we will have the opportunity to read all sorts of vile messages on t-shirts. We'll have the pleasure of sitting next to some hairy guy in a tank top at a nice restaurant or some 60 year old woman wearing shorts and a t-shirt to the philharmonic. I'm just hopeful that the news has reached the young women of Fort Wayne that ultra-low jeans displaying a thong are OUT.
Join me in my crusade. Wear a dress to that concert. Don't go shopping in sweats. Wear clothes that don't grip your torso. And please, please, don't let your husband or son wear and tank top and baseball cap to a restaurant.
HT: Cranach
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