To Eye Contact or Not To Eye Contact

Free Stock Images

Free Stock Images

What did you learn growing up about Eye Contact?

Were you in the hard knocks school of “Look me in the eye, Son!” or did you hear “Never look a person in the eye” from your social mentors?

And when you fell in love. The first time. Was it in her eyes that you found yourself? And could he see right into your heart when he gazed into your baby blues? Or in my case, the brown-eyed girl?

Attended a marriage seminar several years back called PAIRS where the first lesson shared the importance of body language, encouraging couples to establish a focused position before talking. Knee to knee. Eye to eye.

But not everyone does the eye contact thing naturally. Personally, I get a tad distracted if I’m concentrating too hard when I look into someone’s eyes. My mind begins this peripheral dialogue that sends me into a zone all by itself.

“He’s looking into my eyes. I’m looking into his. He’s holding his stare. Holy cow, he hasn’t blinked. In a really long time. Wait! Which eye am I looking in? Left? Right? Both? Yikes! Who will look away first? [I do… then return, and…] He’s still looking. Right into my eyes. Wow. What was I saying? What were we talking about?” Continue reading

Five Minute Manhattan… Part Two

centralpark

Trying to capture the swan in the Central Park pond.

Left Alice’s Tea Cup, tummy full of tea and sparkles in my hair. Off to Central park we go, to walk off pumpkin pancake calories and to share one spot in New York City we still get lost in. And for that reason, we actually walk down the west side of Central Park for some time, from 74th to 103rd, just chatting about life, kids, this and that. The sun is shining and my hand is tucked through Hub’s arm, in his sweatshirt pocket. Love this time we can just stroll arm in arm without a care in the world. No where to rush to. No one to answer to.


Until nature calls. All that tea… It was inevitable. So we venture into the park in search of a public bathroom. The closest one is behind the tennis courts and as Hubs heads toward the men’s room, he says, “Five minutes. You have five minutes to write your next blog.” Continue reading

Manic Monday Flu Shot

photo-16

When it comes down to it, a lasting relationship requires one main ingredient: communication. That’s why I almost broke up today. With Siri.

You see, it all started out like every great romance, hours on the phone. 😉 Holding each other’s hands. Well, I held her in my hand. And constant eye contact. Except when I was driving, of course.

And we talked about everything.

“Good morning Siri, what’s for breakfast?”

“I have located several options within 0.1 miles, but the fridge, I must say, looks a little scary. I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you, Hot Mama.”

“What should I wear today, Siri? Is it a sweatshirt kinda day?”

“Whatever makes you feel pretty, and makes you write faster, Hot Mama.”

“What are you in the mood to listen to while I write, Siri? Which playlist should I start with?”

“I’m thinking the ‘songs that make you cry’ list since that scene you’re refining is so sad, Hot Mama.”

What’s that sound I hear? “Siri, are you crying?”

“It’s nothing, Hot Mama. Something in my camera eye. I’ll be fine.” Sniffle.

And then the request I will ask her till the day she dies. “Say, ‘Raj.'”

“Checking my sources. Okay, Hot Mama, here you go.” Followed by a long list of definitions for the word “Rise.” Sigh. Should have known things would go sour after this reminder that she still can’t pronounce my name. Heck, she hasn’t even figured out that Raj is my name. Whatcha gonna do? Continue reading

Siri … ously in Love with my iPhone5

Christmas came early in the Paulus household. For me that is.

Found a package on my steps on Friday with hubby’s name on it. Didn’t bother looking it over. Figured it was some auto part or something guy-related and just chucked it on top of the shelf. Placed it nicely, if you must know. And forgot about it.

Then hubs comes home from work hours later and tosses it to me while I’m sitting on the couch.

“It’s yours.”“But…” and I’m terrified.
Continue reading