RSVP

So - I moved. I'll be talking more about that next week. In the meantime, I wanted to chat about something that's been on my mind for a while.

RSVP - Request for a response to an invitation (from French: répondez s'il vous plaît).

When people send an invitation, they usually need to know who is coming. You know, to plan food, seating, parking, entertainment, budget, etc. Sometimes a week is enough notice - sometimes it's not. Either way, if you receive an invitation that requests a response by a certain date, the polite thing to do is respond by that date. If you can't commit - then your answer is no. It is not the host's job to accommodate your unpredictable schedule.

I get multiple invites each week, primarily for events on Facebook. The other day, I received two in the mail.

Facebook events don't always have an RSVP date. But whether there is or there isn't, the process is the same:

Read the invite
Decide if I want to go
Check my calendar
     If it's open, I add the event and reply yes.
     If it's not, I reply no.

If the first event is something that can be moved, and the second one is important enough, I might make a change.

Either way, the whole process only takes about 5 minutes - 10 tops.

So there's really no good reason it should ever take weeks to reply to an event.

Unless you really don't want to go... in which case, you should just say no in the first place.

Material girl

I'll admit it - I like stuff. If you know me well enough to have ever been in my house, that is not a surprise. I have a crap-ton of stuff - decorations, furniture, clothes, purses, shoes, jewelry... The list goes on and on - and on.

I suppose some people think that makes me materialistic. Well, I don't suppose - I know some people see me that way. Which is perfectly fine - stuff makes me happy, and I'm not ashamed. I guess the only thing I don't like is the implication that somehow makes me a bad person.

Dictonary.com defines Materialistic as:

Excessively concerned with physical comforts or the acquisition of material things, rather than spiritual, intellectual, moral, or cultural values.

See, what I object to is the idea that you have to choose between wanting nice things, and being a good person. Am I "excessively concerned" with my jewelry collection? Some might say so. But it's not like I'd sell a person into human trafficking to support my Stella & Dot habit. If I had to choose between making a donation to a worthy cause or shopping at Sephora - I'd probably alternate back and forth. Sort of a one for you, one for me kinda thing.

I may like "stuff" but I am very aware that it is not the most important thing in the world. I take good care of my shoes and clothes because I love them. But if I woke to find my house on fire, I'd grab my cats and get out of there - because in the end, I know stuff can always be replaced.

Without a doubt, volunteering is the most rewarding thing I've ever done. I maintain healthy relationships with friends; I don't lie, I give advice or help where it's needed, and I'm polite. I go to church, where I'm reminded about what really matters. I read and keep up on what is going on in the world, which makes me very aware how lucky I am to be in a position to offer help to others, rather than needing to ask for help myself.

I know it's important to keep my spiritual, moral, cultural, and intellectual values in check. I know it's important to do what I can to make the world a better place. No one can fix everything, but we can all fix something.

I just don't see any reason why I can't be wearing cute shoes and earrings while I'm doing my share of the fixing.

Put away your white

I posted this on facebook yesterday, to a mixed reaction.

And by mixed, I mean I say no, and five friends said yes. The sixth friend said he prefers reflective silver year-round. I suspect he was making a joke.

Back to my answer....I don't wear white after Labor Day. But let me be clear - the rule, as it was taught to me, is nothing below the waist after Labor Day. So a crisp white shirt? Fine, though in colder months I'm more likely to layer that under a sweater anyway.

White shoes? I'm not likely to wear purely white shoes any time of the year. I do put my shoes with white in them in winter retirement until Memorial Day.

White pants? You'd have to shoot me with a tranquilizer dart to get me in a pair, anyway, but if I wore them - they would also be resting now.

No white shoes means no white purses because, well, it won't look right.

That is such an old-fashioned rule. People still stick to that?

A lot of things are old-fashioned. Doesn't necessarily make them wrong. The idea of a bride wearing white at her wedding is certainly old-fashioned, and people still pay thousands to do so. How about eating with the proper utensils? That's old-fashioned - but (most civilized) people still do.

I was taught the no-white rule by my grandmother (Nanny). You may say, well see, it's a dated tradition - and that's fine. If you want to wear white after Labor Day, have at it. I don't need the guilt and judgment from the hereafter, nor do I think a pair of white polka-dotted wedges is worth worrying about what will happen should I run into Nanny in heaven.

Besides - if an idea stands the test of time, and still makes sense, is it old-fashioned? Or is really just classic? I wouldn't wear velvet or wool or tweed in the summer, either. Is that idea old-fashioned - or is it just practical?

Stacy and Clinton tell me it's OK to wear white any time of year.

By all accounts I could find, this is true. There are entire posts about how to rock white all year round.

I choose not to, because it's how I was taught. Nanny also taught me to say please, write thank you notes, be a gracious house-guest, how to set a proper table, and do dishes. I suppose some people also consider those ideas to be old-fashioned as well.

Each generation is different, and everyone should think for herself. Nanny taught me an awful lot that I don't follow, and believe me when I say I've done a lot of things that would not have made her proud. But some of what she taught just makes sense....

So I don't wear white shoes after Labor Day.

I never really liked Whitney Houston

I don't really trust celebrities (except for him). I figure their job is to portray a certain image; I portray an image that's not me at my job, so I can only imagine how motivated all that wealth and power makes them to pretend.

But celebrities are still flawed, imperfect people. Sometimes, the bigger you are, the harder you really do fall. At the very heart of it, a celebrity is just a person. Each has her own history and experiences that have shaped who she is, the choices she makes, and how she reacts. A person may not deserve sympathy for having been a celebrity; but that doesn't mean she was without her problems.

When those problems are big enough - sometimes, it becomes impossible to hide them. Whitney Houston was a celebrity who stopped pretending to be perfect years ago. She made a lot of mistakes, and regardless of what actually killed her, her choices probably contributed.

Except for a brief period in junior high, I was never a big fan; but I can certainly understand why so many loved her, even if I didn't. Her music touched a lot of hearts and lives, and she had a family who truly cared for and will miss her. My heart breaks for them; my heart breaks for anyone who loses someone so young. Regardless of her choices, that's something no family deserves.

Her celebrity, and her legacy, made her death world-wide  news. I personally don't want to hear any more about a celebrity dying other than, "She died." I figure the rest is really not my business, unless charges are filed somewhere (public record and all). She passed away on a Saturday night; by Thursday, I was tired of hearing "Whitney Updates" on the radio and TV. Updates? What's to update? She's still dead, right?

The coverage got so out of control that a week later, CNN broadcast the funeral. Seriously? I only caught a few minutes because it was on the TV at the gym. I looked up and immediately noticed two things.

Most of the family was wearing sunglasses - and Jesse Jackson was sitting right up front, in full view of the camera, slouched over with his legs spread wide.

What. The. Hell?!

Yes, she was a celebrity, and comes from a celebrity family. All her friends were celebrities. She died suddenly. My feelings on the "world's leading news network" broadcasting it aside, the funeral was a big deal. She was a prominent African-American artist - so it makes sense that with all the pomp and circumstance surrounding the funeral, Jesse Jackson would show up. It even (I suppose) makes sense he'd be sitting with the family. It might even make sense he be sitting right where the camera would be on his the whole time.

But you would think that a man of his stature, at an event of this size and importance, would know how to sit. You'd think he'd at least know he should sit up straight, and at least pretend to look like he was paying attention.

I mean - he's a celebrity. Isn't pretending part of the game?

I may never have been a big fan of Ms. Houston - but I'd say she deserved at least that much on this one day.

Move over

We arrived to church on Sunday (I know, right?!) a little late. We found empty seats in the middle of an aisle, so we had to excuse ourselves past this woman who was sitting close to the end of the row.

The row in front of us was largely empty as well - in the middle. Another group came in after us, and had to climb over the three people sitting at the end of that row.

It got me thinking - in these situations, when someone needs the seats, why do we let someone climb over us? Why don't we just move over, and give them the seats on the aisle? To that end, why don't we just sit in the middle of an aisle in the first place? That way, stragglers don't have to climb their way to a seat, interrupting us, the people sitting near us, and in some cases, the speaker or performer.

That's a good seat.

In situations where we've paid for a particular seat, I can understand. But in those cases, everyone should be in their seats before the show/performance/speech/whatever starts. You can always exit the aisle, let people take their seats, and then sit down.

In general admission, first-come seating arrangements, though, it doesn't make sense to me. What is it that makes us so attached to those aisle seats? Easier to get up for the restroom or to take a call? I hope not. Adults should be able to sit still for a couple of hours. Are we worried about an easy escape? That seems a bit extreme.

Or is it just that someone points and asks, "Is that seat available," and we're that incapable of thinking outside the box?