Give a little bit

"Give a little bit. Give a little bit of your love to me." I'm a purist when it comes to this song. Give me the Supertramp original version over the Goo Goo Dolls. No offense to Johnny Resnick and his boys, but my preference is the nasal-wain pleading of Rick Davies. Oprah used this anthem of giving for her Pay it forward extravaganza last year. My niece participated in this outreach of unconditional giving. I'm trying to convince said niece to write a book about her personal triumphs. If nothing, write a blog. She's an astounding human being who has defied death numerous times. She learned to walk again after a debilitating accident that caused her brain trauma. Essentially her brain forgot how to tell her legs to walk. Within a year of that accident she was tap dancing like a pro on the stage of our community theater. Phenomenal young lady. And I get to call her FAMILY. I wrote a blog and added the feature our local newspaper did to honor her. The link will take you to my myspace blog. With the current state of our nation, that's the kind of news I want to see. I don't need to know where and when the Hollywood hoochies will flash there genitalia or 'oops' let a sex tape slip onto the internet. Give me something positive and life changing. I suppose many people need the lighter side of things during such stressing times, but let's not spend time debating who's doing whom and is their video proof.

My niece has been taught valuable gifts and I credit my sister for being the best teacher. She gives without expectation. She lived and breathed the pay it forward philosophy long before it was a tear jerker movie or a pet project of Oprah. She'd spend her meager paper route pay on me and my brother because it brought her joy to buy us something. She continues to do that (although I think she makes a little more than 2.50 a week). I have an amazing family. They are an absolute melting pot of dysfunction, but we put the FUNKY in that dysfunction. Two of my sisters, Maureen and Mary, were and are mentors in my life. I've always been closest to them for various reason. They showed me how to be a mother by being my champions. They've come to my rescue and given unconditionally.

This post has taken a slight detour from where I had originally intended it to go. I haven't pushed JB away. That's what I came to write. I've kept the lines of communication open and, guess what? I'm laughing. I'm smiling. It's odd to have someone in my life that knows me. He's able to see through the facade and call me on it. Few people have the ability to do that without offending me in the process. JB has a knack that I wish I could master. Perhaps the guru will teach me a thing or two. He's the sort of person that wants to help out without enabling bad habits or that dreaded stinkin' thinkin'. He has money and lots of it, but his philosophy is to teach a person to catch the proverbial fish rather than just handing it over.

He's promised the goods for the Man-cub. He does so because he appreciates that I'm raising my son on my own. He applauds the sacrifices made. I don't see them as sacrifices, really. My personal life does ail, but I have faith that it will all come in due time. I believe in God's plan. Seven years ago he helped me attain a weight goal that I never thought possible. Naturally, I gained all the weight back and then some (once I cast him out of my view and became a shut in). He is willing to help me. Will he show up on my doorstep and force me on to the walking track? No. Will he police my refrigerator? No. He will check up on my progress, though. I'll be held accountable for my own actions. I'll be encouraged to love myself again. I have plenty of people in my life who surround me with love. Don't get me wrong. However, JB has a way of pushing me without being obtrusive. I can't lie to him. Even in texting he knows if I'm lying. He knows I'm quick to respond to things, but when I'm attempting a fib I freeze and there's a delay...momentary, but he knows. It's freaky.

I'm really excited about this joint pursuit of what lies beneath the chubbawubba. It doesn't define who I am, obviously. He's training to run the Boston Marathon. He says, "you be my cheerleader and I'll be your's...we can do this, Riss." He's the kind of person who sets a goal and attains it. He probably doesn't need me in his corner. Viewing it as a cohesive venture gives it greater appeal. I can do this, people. It's the holiday season. So, I have a grace period of January 2. My progress will be the subject of blogs to come.

He called me the other night to say hello. Some how we got on the subject of my financial planning. "How will you live when you're retired?" seemed to be the subject of the night. My query was, "will I be able to retire?" He says he can teach me how to invest my current 401k. He's shocked I haven't jumped on stock options. He asked what I had vested thus far. I am certain he heard the crickets chirping. I managed an answer because I had my statement on the table ... dumb luck, huh? I was embarrassed at the amount, but he didn't mutter a word that made me feel that way. He's certain I can turn that piddly amount into a healthy retirement. My reply, "then teach me, Yoda." It's exciting that I can take control of my life and not wait or expect someone else to do it for me. Tomorrow isn't promised. Duh!