Michelle's House of Horrors

 

Love is the opening door
Love is what we came here for

–L.Duncan/Love Song

 

So, I couldn’t bring myself to make a list of all of the people I love. Which is for the best. But then I was wondering if maybe I could make a list of the things I love about people I love.

Kindness: How can you love someone who isn’t kind? I can’t. Maybe other people can, but I confess I don’t understand how. Not everyone is kind all the time, but you’ve got to at least be kind most of the time. “If you wanna impress me” as Prince would say. He was talking about not talking dirty though.

Generosity: Almost all of my friends and family are generous with time, caring and often money. I hardly know anyone who is cheap in any  way, even though some don’t have a lot of money they’re generous in other ways. It does make it hard to split a bill when there is twice as much money on the table as there needs to be and no one will accept any change.

Attention: Not a lot of people really pay attention. Not a lot of people really listen. It’s sexy as hell. It’s also a little disconcerting to have someone actually remember what you said, and use it against you on another day. Still sexy, but it definitely keeps you honest! Attention is a rare gift.

Being yourself: I have a few  friends who have the gift of always being themselves. They are  free spirited, funny as hell and  a joy to be around. One of them sometimes has a rough life because he isn’t willing to behave conventionally, and he owns it. He’s not the most reliable person around. The others have a more balanced approach to being themselves–they still manage to have real jobs, and show up places they say they’ll be. They’re all great.

Reliability: This one is tricky.  I just said I love my friends who are themselves and will not compromise on it. I do. But in my day to day life, people who do what they say and show up when they say they will are important!  It’s hard to trust people who no-show when you count on them. On the other hand, it’s also important not to have any sticks in your posterior. A lot of us could stand to be more free-spirited. We’re not going to regret it if we don’t work as much, I don’t think.

Spontaneity: If you can be both reliable and spontaneous, I will probably love you. We all need people who can come over on short notice and help us finish a bottle of wine. Or a growler of IPA. Hint. Hint.

Liberal with compliments:  I’m working on doing this more often. I’ll be brutally honest here  and say I love getting compliments. I don’t care if they’re on my brains, excellence of reading comprehension, knitting, humor or beauty. Whatever. I’ll take it.  I’ll try really hard to be gracious about it even. Tell me I have perfect eyebrows. I don’t  care. I’m a compliment whore.

Oh my gosh, how could I forget smart and funny?!? They’re the most important of all!

I ran out of room because my friends have so many wonderful traits.
That’s a good problem to have, isn’t it?

 

PS I forgot creative! How could I forget creative?

Apparently the correct answer is: not only can I not make a list of all the people I love, but I can also not make a list of why!

You’re a group of people with infinite goodness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everyone probably has someone they wish they could apologize to about…something. I like to think that I’ve been a pretty kind person overall, but I know I’ve had my moments of awfulness. I might be smarter than a lot of people, and funnier than a lot of people, but I’m definitely not one bit nicer than I’ve had to be.

Today, I would like to apologize for the following sin.

8th grade. My friends and I were horrifically mean to a girl who just wanted to hang out with us. We threw things at her, called her names, made fun of her looks. I felt bad about it even then, just not bad enough to make everyone stop. Following the crowd at its worst.

I’m nicer now, right?

Right?!?

Once again…welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring.

–Bram Stoker/Dracula

Home – is where I want to be
But I guess I’m already there
I come home – -she lifted up her wings
Guess that this must be the place

–Talking Heads/This Must Be The Place

One of the most important parts of feeling welcome in a place is how you are greeted. There are a lot of other things that go into a continued feeling of welcome, but the greeting sets the tone. Having someone greet me with a name no one else uses always makes me feel special.

When I was a little kid, the neighbor across the street would always greet me with “hey Chevelle, go on in the house and have a beer. ”  Not a typical greeting from an adult to a 7 year old girl, perhaps, but it always made me feel like I was part of the family. No, they didn’t really let me have beer. He drove a Chevy Chevelle that he was always working on, and he loved that car, so I knew that if he called me Chevelle he must like me. He was kind of a big tough guy, so it made it less scary for me to be there. Things are very simple when you are 7.

Another friend’s dad would always greet me with “Meeeshell!” and  a big dopey smile when I came to their house. It always made me smile right back.  I don’t know if it was the dopey grin or that he had his own personal name for me that made me feel so special. Both, I guess.

Nicknames tend to make me feel like a person cares enough about me to think I deserve a name that’s just for me. Maybe it really just means they can’t remember my name at all.

I choose to believe it’s the former.

In addition to Chevelle and MeeeShell!, at various points in my life I’ve been called Shelly, Shellyshel, MJ, Jolin, Mici, Miche, Micia, Mici-elle, Mishishell, Mishelly, Michou, Michelle-ina, Michelina, Micetta and Michette. Until this very second, I had no idea I’d been called so many variants of my name. I don’t think of myself as a nickname person, but seeing this list is making me reconsider! Of course, Italians and French people are responsible for a lot of those names, and they’re sort of culturally prone to nicknames.

Oddly, I’m not overly  fond of normal terms of endearment. I don’t mind if friends call me sugar or sweetie, but I’m not thrilled about it from lovers. A guy I was dating used to call me “dear” and I made him stop because I kept thinking he’d forgotten my name. Which, in retrospect, could have easily been the case.  Another exception for the Italians–they can call me tesoro or amore any time. Well, you know, if I’m ever single again.

 

Actually, you know what?

If I’m single, and you’re a single Central/Northern Italian, you can call me pretty much anything you want and I’ll feel very…welcome.

 

I  might even bat my new false eyelashes at you.