Back to Basics Monday: Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This

A bloggy friend of mine recently congratulated me on sharing my gaffe of reaching across the "middle seat person" on a recent flight where I snagged the aisle and my coworker snagged the window.  In fact, she praised me for sharing the fact that I was not, in fact, so proper all the time.

And I'm not.  Proper Paige is human, for sure.  In fact, Proper Paige likes to curse and has bad days from time to time.

And, not to get all Schadenfreude, but when I have a bad day, things like this make me giggle, which is good.

Source: Uploaded by user via Heather*Proper on Pinterest

Proper Paige, what on earth is Schadenfreude? 

And why did you use that crazy big ass word?

Schadenfreude is a German word (thus, the pesky mid-sentence capitalization) that basically means pleasure taken from the misfortune of others.  As in, when you see something bad happen to someone you're not fond of, and you get that little sliver of pleasure from it, right before you remind yourself that's mean and that you believe in karma.  

If someone were proper all the time, they wouldn't feel this.  But if someone were human, it would be impossible for them to *not* feel this from time to time.

My name is Proper Paige, and I'm human.

Thanks to the Germans for some cool words, huh?

Free Form Friday: Komen

I don't usually discuss politics or religion.  It's a polite-itude that Proper Mother imparted on me.  It's also really, really awesome in practice.  Why?  Because it gets you out of conversations that inevitably start with ambition, right turn at defensive, do an S-turn at preachy, and run smack into awkward.

(Yes, I used to live in DC.  Yes, I used to work in politics.  You can actually still do this.  It just takes catlike social reflexes.)

So, Komen.  Sigh.  I'm breaking my rule for you.  [steps onto soapbox]

[image credit]

The Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation announced earlier this week that it had adopted a policy that would prevent the organization from funding Planned Parenthood, a longtime recipient of funds used to provide breast exams to its clients.

In Interwebs parlance, a shitstorm ensued.  Facebook BLEW UP.  At least, mine did, because my friends care about things like, oh,  public health.

The new policy, to be precise, stated that Komen would not fund groups under state, federal, or local investigation.  Planned Parenthood is the subject of a Congressional inquiry to determine if it has used/is using federal dollars to fund abortions.  

Recent breaking news indicates that Komen has announced that it will revisit its policy to "amend the criteria to make clear that disqualifying investigations must be criminal and conclusive in nature and not political."  As in, the Senate investigation into Komen is inherently political, has not been concluded, and will now not trigger cessation of Komen funding to Planned Parenthood.

Komen, shame on you.

But, Proper Paige, they are going to keep funding them.  Why shame on them now?

Because.  Komen adopted that policy with full awareness that it would cut off funding to Planned Parenthoods around the nation.  It was not accidental.  And they were good with it.  I have no idea whether they wanted to disassociate themselves with a public health organization that does, in fact, provide abortion services.  I have no idea whether they stopped to think about the fact that organization also provides urgent low cost healthcare to women who often have no other place to turn.  

I do know that they did not expect the media firestorm that started when the news of this change became public.  I do know that they proffered two different explanations in three days for why the change was undertaken. I do know that sounds like lies and scrambling, face-saving tactics to me.  I do know that in PR that's what's called "crisis communications."

Do good.  Be true to your word.  Don't lie.  

And when you screw up, apologize.

I do believe that Komen does amazing work.  And I do believe that they are attempting to fix this "situation."  But I don't know whether their reputation as an organization will ever recover.  And I know that this type of action is not what women need.

[steps off soapbox]

Here's to health and wellness for all women.  For real.

Wedding Wednesday: Flow Chart Love

I love a flow chart.  I am visual yet wordy.  So are flowcharts.  I am inept at Excel.  Flowcharts don't care.  

Enter, this, a flowchart that properly uses the word "whom," and provides useful wedding advice.  It's a win.

What do you think of its contents?

Source: me-you-just-us-two.tumblr.com via Heather*Proper on Pinterest

Let's apply it with our oft-discussed Shitty Uncle Lester.

1. Yes, relation.
2. Yes, drama.
3. Yes, invite. 

That works. Because (though he is entirely fictional), we all know that Shitty Uncle Lester is a family member and a frequent flier at family events.  So, you can't not invite him. You can hope for the best and turn any of his non-criminal gaffes into fodder for family stories round the campfire in the future.  You know, cup half full and all that.

All in all, I think the advice is pretty solid.  And, in the rationale of someone who has, from time to time, been phenomenally indecisive (not you, Jules), I maintain this:  If you go through the flow chart with a potential guest in mind and are horrified with the result, then you actually do have your answer.  You should probably do the opposite.  

So, either way, it's a helpful (and cute) little litmus test, 

n'est-ce pas?

And 'member.  It's your party and it's going to rock, regardless.

Source: greylikesweddings.com via Heather*Proper on Pinterest

Hope your week is flowing smoothly,

Wedding Wednesday: Tree My Guest

I love good wedding photography.  And these shots, as featured on A Crimson Kiss (a lovely blog done by a lovely friend of mine), really stood out to me.  

Why? Because the plants are such an integral part of the pictures.  Take a look and see if they move you the way they moved me.

It's like the dress and the shoes went for a little forest romp before the big event.

Shut the front door.  Best mom and daughter picture.  EVER.

With all due respect to the (talented, I'm sure) cater waiters featured here,
this shot would be *nothing* without the tree.

Second favorite use of foliage, after the mother daughter shot.

And, the trees heralded the exit of the awesome getaway car!
[All images from A Crimson Kiss and courtesy of Brooke Schwab]

What do you think?  Do you like trees in wedding pictures?  Or do you think I'm being kooky?

I'll leaf you to ponder that,

Taking Questions Tuesday: Elbow Wars

My mother, Proper Mother, remembers when it was "a must" that you dress up to fly.  This was when flying was luxurious.  This was when they gave you cocktails and real food on real plates.  

[image credit]

This is no longer the case, of course.  But let me linger there wistfully for one more moment.

[image credit]

OK.  Now, where was I going with this?  Oh, yes.  Just this week, I engaged in what can only be described as an "elbow war" while on a brief business flight for my role as Proper Professional.  You know what I mean by elbow war, but let me explain.

My colleague and I cleverly snagged the aisle and window seats of a front row, thinking/hoping/assuming that our witty banter would built a travel forcefield around the (undesirable) middle seat.  We were wrong, and an intrepid female traveler chose that as her seat.

Full disclosure:  I was in Proper Professional mode (aka, getting down to business), and sort of goofed.  I actually reached across Middle Seat Lady to show my colleague something on my phone, forgetting that was really rude and that she was, in fact, a person that I did not know, despite my arm stretching across her (limited) personal space.  

She said pointedly, "Excuse me."  I retracted my arm.

Then, the elbow war began.  She proceeded to jab, poke, and invade my (also limited) personal space with her elbow.  She was so aggressive about it that I ended up with nowhere to put my right arm.  I held it awkwardly out of the way, at which point my shoulder muscle started to complain.

I thought to myself, "Okay, Proper Paige, what are you going to do now?"

My elbow is a little passive aggressive, if I do say so myself.  When she moved her arm to reach a magazine, my elbow invaded the armrest.  Taking it back by a show of force, as it were.  She wasn't deterred. She crashed her elbow down on my arm with force.  It didn't hurt, per se, but it wasn't accidental.  My elbow sulked there until it decided to regroup and come up with another offensive.

This offensive, of course, involved heavy artillery:  a steaming hot cup of black coffee.

This.  But fuller.  And hotter.

No, before you decide that I am a horrible fraud of an etiquette type person, I did not spill, pour, or otherwise put coffee onto Middle Seat Lady.  I merely, and calmly, drank my coffee.  With my right hand.  And I will say this:  the specter of hot coffee in her lap deterred her angry left arm from any more offensive maneuvers in my general direction.  

Uh, is there a question here, Proper Paige?

Not really, except this:  What would you have done?

And before you say a word, I am fully aware that the first step in successful airplane arm relations is to *not* do what I did, aka, reach across someone as if they are invisible to talk to the person on their other side.

(ahem)

We all make mistakes sometimes.  

But it's graceful (at the very least) to admit it.

And having some coffee never hurts,

Back to Basics Monday: Shame on you, Paula

Here's a hypothetical etiquette situation for you:

Let's say that I, Proper Paige, became wildly successful for my astute observations as posted on this blog.  (Wouldn't that be great?)  And I get a TV show on ...shall we say, Bravo? ...and several book deals, to boot.  I am rocking and rolling with the postmodern etiquette thing.  Proper Paige is big time.

A girl can dream, right? [image credit]

What then, if it comes out several years of mega-stardom later that I am actually in, let's say, rehab for anger management.  That I kick puppies and am mean to senior citizens and have an alias where I troll spam my blogger friends and all sorts of heinously improper things?  What would you think?

Wow, you're a fraud.

[image credit]

And you'd be right.  Because how could I peddle etiquette while kicking puppies?  It cannot be done.  OK, so what if you then found out that I was being paid as a sponsor for my rehab facility or for some new anger management step program?  And that I chose not to reveal any of this until my new financial promotion deal was solidly in place? What would you think?

Wow, that's not cool.  Not cool at all.

And you'd be right.

That's pretty much how I feel about Paula Deen right now.  If you've missed it, you can check out the recent turn of events here.

In short, Paula's known for roughly 3 years that she suffers from Type 2 diabetes, all the while peddling butter rich and highly fattening foods to her legions of fans.  The Associated Press reports that her empire grossed roughly $10 million last year, in fact.

She's signed on to do a diabetes awareness campaign with a drugmaker, the one that makes the drug she's taking for her condition, and now, several years and many millions later, the situation has come to light.

Paula, not cool. Not cool at all.

In statements that made him even cooler to me, Anthony Bourdain had these things to say:

"When your signature dish is hamburger in between a doughnut, and you've been cheerfully selling this stuff knowing all along that you've got Type 2 Diabetes. ... It's in bad taste if nothing else."

"Thinking of getting into the leg-breaking business, so I can profitably sell crutches later."

What's the etiquette tidbit here?

Don't be a fraud.  Be cool.  And honest.  Seriously.

And, just for giggles, eat healthily, dear readers.  Mmmkay?

I, for one, care about your cholesterol,

Free Form Friday: The Proverbial Nail Hole

Wow!  What a week.  

Work, fly to DC, see best friends, cook lots of food, host baby shower, do some work while you're traveling (unusual for me; I'm lucky that way), fly home, get a nasty bug, return to work, catch up with dear friends, catch up on work, catch up on life at home with Proper Husband and Little Dude.

[I'm a little out of breath.]

But I did manage to discovery an absolute gem of a blog and it must be shared.  It's called everyday treats.  Per its definition, it's a blog about the art of living well every day.  Per its realization, it's a lovely little spot on the Interwebs where a vastly creative and lovely person reminds you to be kind to yourself, start now, believe in it, try it, and find the beauty.  I don't know about you, but I'm a big fan of things like that.

And so, the nudge of the day is to read this blog.  (I don't know her.  I literally just discovered this today and I'm smitten.)  The thought of the day, which is absolutely appropriate for Proper Husband and I as profoundly cautious home-owning people:

And I mean that both literally and figuratively.


Mull that over and I'll see you Monday.  


Besos,