mountaineer musings

the truth about hugs

there are good hugs.
there are great hugs.
there are careful or i might crawl into your lap and make you hug me for hours hugs.
some hugs make you squirm.
some make you squeamish.
some make you want to crawl into a hole and never come out for fear of meeting the hugger.
there are decent hugs.
and pretty good hugs.
and fair hugs.
honestly, most are just average.

and when you hug someone who really hugs you back, it's almost always a careful or i might crawl into your lap and make you hug me for hours hug. that's the key. to give a fabulous hug, you need only to remember one simple rule; hug like you mean it, and it's usually pretty great.

if you hug someone in forced fashion, it always, without fail, sucks. your body language is so evident in your hugs; if you hug like you're scared of hugging or like you're only hugging because, socially, you feel you have to, you are giving a really bad hug. here's some advice for you: just stop hugging people. you obviously don't like it, and it will save them from many cases of heebie-jeebies.

because let me tell you, a great hug seems like it was only there for a second, a fleeting whisper against my back, one i wish i could get back, wish i could bottle up and open any time i need comfort or to feel loved. a bad hug seems to never leave, it scars, it brushes up against me and sucks my soul out like a Dementor.

a great hug makes me long for more, willing to resort to begging for another, and though it was only yesterday that i received this coveted kind of hug, it feels like years. when i find myself remembering "when", that was an amazing hug.

single men give the best hugs, because they have the most to gain by doing so. married men still give good hugs, but since they need to NOT have someone wanting to crawl up in their laps (except their own wives), they tend to either side-arm it or hold back, which is exactly what they should do. but considering the intimacy that they actually share with their wives, their wives should be getting some splendid hugs, and there should be lots of lap-crawling. husbands who do not hug their wives well just don't deserve to be on the planet. ok, maybe that's too harsh, but they should at the very least be required to go to hug reform school if they offend the hugging senses.

i've been hugged well by a lot of people. there are two standouts that immediately come to mind; that could be because i was hugged by them recently so it only feels like months and not decades, and the hug-memory is fresh enough that it hasn't escaped me completely. hug-memories, after a while, fade like the picture you keep in your head of someone you love or have a great fondness for. you try, really hard, to get that picture back, but unless you see a snapshot or feel that feeling again, you never quite remember.

the two standouts are, as would be expected, single men, and theirs are the only hugs i "miss" currently. theirs, too, will fade unless they are replenished; until then, i'll feel the whisper against my back.

i think i miss Boy Crush's hugs the most, probably because i've had so many this year, and several of them were when i was crying, so they were the most comforting. i love comfort.

and i love hugs.

shopping notes...

for the record, i will never buy a piece of clothing with the word Sag on the brand tag. get a clue, Sag Harbor.

i will also never buy something from a store called the Dress Barn. not nice to make women feel like farm animals before we even walk through the door.

i try to shop in the petites section, since i'm super-duper short; just wondering, why do they put things in the petites section way up near the ceiling? who can reach that stuff?

i hate shopping for shoes; unfortunately, i have no choice right now, because my feet have shrunk. in the 2 months since i had to wear pumps (bleck), my feet have shrunk a half size.

i miss SuperTarget. i REALLY miss SuperTarget.

i don't know where a grocery store near my house is. i know where the SuperWalmart is, but that's about a 7 minute drive (every place in Amarillo is a 7 minute drive, because there is just no traffic, HOORAY!!).

somehow, i've been to SuperWalmart at least twice since i've been here, and there is not one lick of ice cream in my freezer. maybe that's why the migraines have started again, i miss my Chunky Monkey.

mmm.... Chunky Monkey.

this just in...

Cherry Chill flavor Wrigley's Eclipse gum tastes like cough syrup; great if you're ill, not so great if you want gum that tastes good.

FYI.

GOOD FOR HER!!

my new hero(ine) is this girl, who has put her foot down about today's fashions, go read about her, RIGHT NOW!

now, thanks to Sandy's and Little Sizzle's insistence that i at least give low-rise jeans a try, i am a big fan of those for at least one reason -- they totally somewhat mask the fact that i have huge thighs and an ample-with-a-capital-Amen booty. translation: they make me look skinny, so bring on the hip-huggers! now, contrary to popular belief, the fact that you're wearing hip-hugging low-rise jeans does not mandate that you show your belly; i NEVER show my belly. i have a really cute one with 2 really adorable moles and lovely skin (the stretchmarks are all on my thighs, the tum-tum is smooth), but i believe in modesty. i support, approve of, practice, appreciate and try to LIVE modesty; i don't care if that makes me a "prude" in some people's eyes.

i couldn't care less [remind me sometime to rant about people's mis-use of that phrase -- if you leave off the "not", it means you care some, and i'm pretty sure that's not what you mean.] if people scoff or roll their eyes when i say that no, i won't wear skin-tight shirts, i won't show cleavage, i won't bare my belly, i won't wear a skirt that comes above the knees or shorts that don't at least come close to the knees, and i won't wear spaghetti-strapped anything or show my undies above my jeans as is all the rage with the Neckid Britney crowd. and i have so much respect for other modest-minded people, especially teenagers, who can hardly escape the nudity all around them in their middle schools and high schools yet recognize that they can be sexy, beautiful and respected without showing skin.

bravo, Ella, keep making a stand for modesty!

you know what's rude?

not answering email, especially email that asks questions, thus WARRANTING A RESPONSE, or personal comments that give you insight into the person that sent you the mail. if you were talking on the phone to the same person (please, no one call me, i hate the phone), and they told you personal details about themselves, would you just sit there and not reply? wait for them to say something? have that awkward 8-minute lull (i stole that phrase from Hugger)? silence in the conversation because you're too thickheaded to realize that you really should say something right now?

you know who's been rude lately? me. i'm really sorry about that. if you've sent me email recently and i haven't responded, please bear with me. i'm busy. and sick. and lazy. and tired. and freaked. and happy. happy doesn't have anything to do with not responding to email, but i just wanted y'all to know i'm happy. anyway, i'll get on that email thing once i get the packing under control and the last 2 ALIAS reviews done; season finale is sunday, and it's not acceptable for me to not theorize and --

leaping crickets!!! i had no idea that Gary Sinise was going to star in CSI New York!! looks like i'll have 3 CSIs to watch next season. YAY!!

-- anyway, it's not acceptable for me to not share my excellent ALIAS theories and my insanely funny reviews before the finale. so stay tuned, they are coming soon.

gotta pack. ta, musees!