The Middle of Where?

My Snowy Prayer

2012-01-17T07:17:00.000-08:00

Here in the Pacific Northwest, or the Portland-Metro area to be specific, it doesn't snow a great deal. We get a smattering or dusting and that's it. Except for three years ago when the heavens' opened and it dumped nearly two feet on us. For the most part we just don't see a lot of snow at this elevation.

Which is why we all FREAK OUT when it does snow.

We don't know how to drive in it.

We panic.

We scurry home faster than you can sing Frosty the Snowman.

It started snowing heavily on Sunday as we were returning from church. We were discussing where to eat lunch when I insisted that we just go home! It was snowing!!!

Beloved, who was driving, looked at me and stated simply, "It's not that bad."

Still...there was white stuff flying and it wasn't melting when it hit the ground. That only leads to a car in the ditch or a vehicle stuck on the side of the road with a woman inside crying because she cannot get the car up the hill or down the hill....

Ahem...

Of course Sunday's snow fell and melted and fell and melted.

The Monday morning commute featured wet pavement and not much else. My boss (also a girl) sent me a message and said not to come in till 9:00, just in case.

I woke at 3:30 am this morning to the sound of the cat retching and beautiful, large snowflakes falling in the light of the street lamp. As I crawled back in to bed I smiled, treasuring what I was sure was to be a "snow day". A day so dangerous that you dare not (!) venture outside the safety of your own home. Why, even the Mayor of Portland advised we mere citizens to remain at home and to not drive on icy, snowy, slushy roads.

The Mayor! Gasp!

Sadly, the roads as of right this second are wet and mushy with melting snow. There isn't much to delay my trip into work. Beloved phoned and told me the roads are fine until I reach a certain point, but they clear pretty quickly after that.

My boss, bless her girly soul, said she is opening the office at 9:00 and that I'm a saint if I go in early. Which I will do because I want to leave early today...it's supposed to snow!

So, here is my little snow prayer...just in case God cares about such silliness!

Dear God,

Could you make it snow and block the roads tonight, after Beloved and I return from work? Could you give us Wednesday as a snow day and let us sleep in and eat pancakes and have a snowball fight? Would it be possible to melt that snow before the Thursday morning commute? After all, we Portlander's are very afraid of this white, mystical stuff that happens our way once or twice a year. We'd like to spend some time in it...but we don't want it to stay long. We have to go to work. And to the store. And the bank. And school.

Thanks God for listening :)

Things I'm Good At

2012-01-13T19:40:00.000-08:00

Everyone is good at something. No, really, everyone is. Whether it be making the perfect PB&J or creating a beautiful piece of artwork - everyone has got something!

Personally, I like to think I'm good a several things.

I bake amazing cakes. It's true. My Chocolate Mocha Cake will leave you breathless and wondering where I've been all your life. Lemon cake? Yeah, I got it and if you're anything like a former pastor of mine, you'll ask for more.

I've recently struck gold with a Gluten-Free Peanut Butter cookie that melted in my Boy's mouth. He ate an entire batch, by himself, over Christmas.

I'm good with people. I like folks. I like to see them happy. I'll go above and beyond. I'll remember little details, like the fact that my boss likes her heater turned on in her office on cold mornings, she likes the red, heart cup for her tea, and she has a special place in her heart for soft, hand made caramels.

I like to organize, from time to time. I love lists that are alphabetized. I like binders with dividers that store useful information for later.

I'm geeky that way.

I love, love, love to throw a party, which may be why Beloved tries to keep me at two or three parties per year. I'd throw one every month if he'd let me!

Now, while I'm good at a few things, I'm bad at others.

I'm not a numbers girl. They confuse me.Sudoku? I'm completely lost.

I cannot bake home-made bread, which is probably a good thing.

And sadly, I'm not a home decorator. I have friends for that.

Which is the beautiful part of being a girl with friends; there's always someone I can call, express that I'm a dork, and ask for help.

I suppose that makes me good at asking for help before I'm over my head!

See, everyone is good at something!

Have You Seen My Spine?

2012-01-11T20:03:00.000-08:00

Don't ya just hate it when people treat you like you are stupid?

When they cut you off...

Don't listen to what you're saying...

Sigh.

Me too.

And I'm horrible at arguing. I can't think straight. I never make the point I meant to make and I usually end up apologizing - whether it's my fault or not.

All that, and I usually cry.

Which only makes me angrier.

I don't like being dismissed. It feels mean. It IS mean!

But, I'm not a fighter. Sure, I bark pretty loud at times, but honestly, that's about it.

Which in some ways is a good thing. Beloved and I don't argue. We just don't. Sure, we may have a word or two here or there, but we seldom actually fight.

Unless you count all the zingers I say in my head.

But this post isn't about Beloved. He's a peach. It's about others and the way they treat me and the fact that I let them.

What do you do when you're not a fighter and you are trapped with a fighter?

Duck?

Run!

Look around, find your spine, and try to sound logical?

It's probably not going to happen.

Not in my lifetime.

Guess that makes me a doormat.

Sigh.

Epic Fail

2012-01-08T06:42:00.000-08:00

Part of my job at the senior property is to plan events. Some events are ones that they have had in the past and basically I just revisit the idea and ask the boss man for money. Others, I've created myself. I've had success to varying degrees...if you don't count the turkey that never finished baking from our Thanksgiving Feast, that is.

Last night was our "rescheduled" holiday banquet. Originally, it had been planned for mid-December, however, due to the sale of the property the old owner refused to pay for it and the new owner didn't have authority to pay for it. It was all rather maddening and frustrating and I cannot even begin to tell you how many of my senior residents complained.

But then again they complain about EVERYTHING, so it was pretty much standard operating procedure.

Now, because this holiday banquet has been done for years, I pretty much followed the pattern set by those who've gone before me.

I ordered the school bus. If you think about it, a school bus for a group of folks who use canes and walkers to simply get around, you realize that it's going to be a nightmare getting them on the stupid bus.

And it was a little scary, but we did it!

Whew!

Although I wanted to change the venue, I didn't only because I couldn't find another venue that was large enough. Which seems insane considering where the property is! Seriously! There was only one other banquet hall available and it was ugly. That and the previous admin had held the event there a few years ago and all the resi's complained...loudly.

So, we stuck with dinner at the gym. Yes, a gym. It's actually the gym where a certain NBA team practices, so it's a bit upscale with a nice dining area overlooking the basketball courts and rock climbing wall.

How...sporty...

Dinner choices included Salmon, Pork Tenderloin, and Southern Smothered Chicken. I personally opted for the chicken, while Beloved feasted on the pork. Both the pork and the salmon were great choices since they were generous servings, although the rice pilaf was dry and the veggie mix/mash was strange and a bit overcooked.

The chicken was...small...dry...and smothered does not begin to adequately describe the dribble of gravy that pooled under the chicken breast.

But it was a FREE dinner for heaven's sake!

One guy, who use to be my favorite old shuffler, complained, rather loudly that he was still hungry and wanted a second dinner. He pointed to his friends and said they got more, their's was better, he'd been ripped off.

Sigh...how do you get ripped off if you didn't pay for the meal?

I talked him off the ledge...but was annoyed that he felt the need to share that he hadn't eaten all day in anticipation of dinner.

So, dinner wasn't all it could have been, but it was okay because I had scheduled EPIC entertainment! I hired a nostalgia type radio program. It was a walk through old time radio and I honestly thought it would be awesome and that my residents would love the trip down memory lane.

I should have known when some of them complained that the back ground music, which was played during dinner, was too loud that we were in trouble. And boy were we in trouble...

The residents were antsy. Some talked loudly at their table and made it difficult for others to hear. Others looked bored. Apparently, only myself and a couple others enjoyed the trip down memory lane. Which made me angry because it was a great show! But so many people just started walking out that I finally nodded to the radio guy to end the program.

I've planned a lot of events in my time and they've always (and I do mean always) been well received and everyone went away smiling. From my holiday parties to the ladies tea to the book signing at a deaf school, has gone well. Until last night.

I've decided that should I still be employed at this property next year that I will dramatically change the holiday banquet schedule. It will last an entire 1.5 hours and I will hire some crappy music guy.

Monday morning will bring a slew of folks coming in to tell me how horrible the night was.

Gee, I can hardly wait for Monday to arrive!

In Keeping with My Resolve

2012-01-02T20:11:00.000-08:00

We decided to be spontaneous on January 1, 2012. This is where we ended up at 2:00pm.

Cannon Beach January 1, 2012

Yes, 59 degrees on the Oregon Coast on January 1

It was funny at the moment

It was funny this time too

The wind was cold!

Who knew I owned a ball cap

It was a lovely, lovely day and we enjoyed being spontaneous! Our lovely Girl wanted to know what had happened to her parents, but was happy for a day on the coast.

I wonder what adventure we can come up with for February?

Stay tuned...

And So, Let it Begin!

2011-12-31T13:45:00.000-08:00

The new year is upon us.

It will not be stopped, nor should it.

And while the coming hours, days, weeks, and months may very well hold our destruction, we must embrace it. We can do nothing less.

Will Beloved continue his employment throughout 2012, we cannot say.

Will Boy meet the girl?

Will our Girl fly her first plane?

Will I continue in servitude to my employer?

I can only hope and pray that these things come to pass at the right time...not in my time.

And while I do not believe in resolutions (mainly, because I do not keep them), I would resolve to do somethings better in 2012.

I hope we'll find a church - that has been a brutal journey!

I hope to see my friends more - yes, even the ones that live in other states.

I hope to pay off more debt - at the same time we'll acquire more because we have children in college.

I hope we rip out the orange shag carpet in the family room.

I hope we'll replace our old, falling down fence.

I hope I'll be more satisfied and less restless.

I hope I travel more.

I hope I eat less.

I hope I'll put dreadful anxiety away and embrace life's crazy ride.

I hope we buy a motorcycle -

And I get a tattoo.

I hope I'll be conservative, but still a bit rebellious.

And that I'll think more of others and less of me.

I hope and pray this world finds a little more peace and a lot less war. I hope there are less hungry people and that there will be jobs for everyone. Sounds a little like Utopia doesn't it?

This coming year will probably look an awful lot like 2011, with its turmoil and worry, but this is life and life must be lived.

So, go live it!

Happy New Year

Ray Wilson's Search

2011-12-30T21:24:00.001-08:00

I don't know him.

I don't know Haley.

But I'm a parent.

And I'm a mom.

Pass this along and maybe we can all help Haley find her way home.

God bless the Wilson family.

Peace.

The Return of the Wee Girls

2011-12-28T20:48:00.000-08:00

I think the thing I miss most about being home or working only part time, is that I still had time to put two thoughts together and form them into something grand. Well, perhaps not grand, but something worth saying.

Most days, I feel like I cannot tie my own shoe.

But one day my phone chirped and I found these:

KK 2011

Z-Monster 2011

Yes

It is THEM.

The tiny terrors.

KK 2007

Wee Girls.

Z-Monster 2007

KK and the Z-Monster

It's been nearly four years since these two graced us with their presence. There were days when I worried and wondered. They had fallen off the face of the earth and no one, not grandma or auntie knew of their whereabouts. We supposed we'd never see them again.

Grandma found them. Auntie convinced Bio-Mom to meet her at the mall.

And they did.

And they were shy.

At first...

But Uncle A has a way of drawing children out and soon they were laughing and playing and talking non-stop.

And Bill was there...Buffalo Bill, the white buffalo we'd given KK when she first arrived in our home. Better still, was the fact that they remembered their Auntie and Uncle.

It could mean that they remember us too.

I've spoken, rather passionately, about my loathing of the foster care system. I wrote about the day the girls left and were returned to their biological mother. I moaned about how they drove me nuts and all the terrible and wonderful things those two tiny tyrants taught me, but today it all seems so hazy.

And my heart longs for two tiny girls who drove me mad and changed my life.

I cannot wait to see them.

Gifties

2011-12-22T13:00:00.001-08:00

I love to give gifts.

Big gifts are okay, but I love the little, multifaceted kind that you put in a stocking or a gift basket or bag. There is just something about finding that perfect token that tells the recipient that you've paid attention. You know them. You thought carefully about what to give them and you nailed it!

You can tell by the look on their face.

One year, for my BFF's birthday, which is just days before Christmas, I gave her warm, snuggly jammies, a bottle of wine, good quality chocolates, and bubble bath and lotion. The gift had meaning because my dear friend was going through a really tough time health wise. The gift screamed, "RELAX"!

She loved it.

Gifts don't have to cost a lot of money, but they should be the right gift for the right person.

My children are both creative, so paper, pens, journals, books, and art supplies are perfect. As are chocolates. It wouldn't be Christmas without a little a chocolate. Each year I fill their stockings with small items that are individually wrapped. It's so much more fun to open several tiny little gifts. Now that they are adults, I look forward to filling their stockings with useful items as well as oranges. As with chocolate, it wouldn't be Christmas without an orange in the toe of a stocking.

My Beloved doesn't really understand me and all my fussing when it comes to gifts. He doesn't understand my need for ribbon and glittery paper. It is beyond him why any human being uses tissue paper. Don't even get him started on cards..."waste of money..."

All he knows is that it makes me happy to give and others happy to receive.

We are perfectly paired that way.

So, even though the holiday itself is just mere days away and I'm not ready, I'm not worried. Things will get done and I'll spend the day with the ones I love best.

Merry Christmas!

And Then...

2011-12-21T06:26:00.000-08:00

The new boss rolled into town yesterday and brought me a new computer.

He went through our wish list.

He answered questions.

And basically was an all around good guy.

So, we are in love with him once again and have decided not to feel abandoned.

Just goes to show that you never know.

And then, Christmas is looming and I'm not ready. Not by a shake. I've still got shopping to do and baking and cleaning and...

But the realistic side of me says that it's all good and not to worry. The day will arrive whether I'm ready or not.

And then, there are textbooks yet to buy for next term, a carpet that needs pulling up and a doggy that acts like he isn't feeling well.

And then...I remember that I seem to neglect so much in my effort to just survive.

And life is short. And it's sweet, if you just let it be.

And then, I take a deep breath and smile, because no matter how busy I am, I have my family and my health.

And THAT is all that matters.

No Respect!

2011-12-18T09:15:00.000-08:00

Last spring I went to work for a property management company as a Leasing Consultant/Activities Director. The pay was much better than I received at the gym, it wasn't a terribly difficult job, I didn't work evenings or weekends and I liked my boss. My biggest goal was to hit that six-month mark just in case I got laid off (unemployment benefits you know).

I passed that mark in November and everything seemed to be moving along just fine and although me and my co-workers were hearing the rumblings of the property being sold, no one at home office would give us any firm details.

Of course the property sold. Of course it did.

Our new management company seems okay. Well, it's a bit difficult to tell what they are like. Thus far they have made all sorts of promises about this and that...and then dropped the ball...on me.

My new BIG boss, who incidentally is just a few years older than my son, promised that we would all get paid on schedule. Even when my immediate boss asked him directly about a time card for Annie, he said he had it all under control and that he didn't want us to wait until after Christmas to get paid.

Of course, everyone got paid. Everyone except me.

Thanks BIG boss for making that happen and for apologizing for the mix up. Sure...

And thanks Payroll for being so nice about it. NOT!

I've spent the last week cleaning everything in site at the office. Why you ask? It's because the old company took my computer and the new company still hasn't provided one for me. When BIG boss arrived the day after the sale (note that he didn't even bother to call the day of the sale to tell us what was going on) he had a computer for my boss...but nothing for me.

He leaned on my desk and asked if I needed one...

I'm starting to get the feeling that he has no idea what I do.

So, here I am, back at square one. New company and no sure footing.

I wish I had asked the old company to lay me off so I would not lose unemployment if the new company cans me.

I wish the new company didn't think of me as insignificant.

I feel like Rodney Dangerfield...no respect!

MIA

2011-12-07T20:19:00.001-08:00

I know...

I'm ashamed...

It's been sooo long...

I'm just tired and busy and uninspired most days.

I promise a catch-up soon.

Thanks Island Rider for wondering if I'd fallen off the edge of the world.

Still here!

Just not here.

The Spy Among Us

2011-09-12T11:46:00.000-07:00

I work in property management. For the most part, Home Office leaves us alone, as long as things are going well. Sadly, things haven't been going well for a little while now. We have several vacancies and while there are only a handful of them, they spell doom and gloom for us in the office.

Our National, an interesting little man, sent us two travelers. These travelers are "trained" individuals whose job is to get us leased up. Which I thought was my job...

And it isn't that I haven't had leases, because I have. The problem is two fold: One, some of my leases fell through because they had criminal activity and we are very strict. The second reason is that we are a tax credit property which means the applicant cannot make over a specific amount. Meaning, that some of the other leases I lost were due to the applicant being over-income.

Throw into the mix that the property is also a 55+ and you have so many ways to fail that it's amazing.

The first traveler they sent us wasn't trained. There were so many thing that she didn't know that it was astounding. That and she was always texting or on her phone. She made herself right at home the very first morning by planting her fanny in the bosses chair.

Wow.

My boss shipped her off to the other property so that I could continue to work on the projects I had lined up.

Traveler number two arrived in all her blond glory. She's cute. She's smart. She's so young I could have given birth to her. And we like her! She's a hard worker and she's got great ideas.

Except...

She told my boss out right that she's here to find out what the problem is.

So, I decided to show her. We put together an open house for Saturday. We advertised. We had danishes & coffee. We put out the signs. Then we waited.

Not. One. Visitor.

Cuties and I discussed the problems with tax credit properties and 55+. On the one had we keep the rent low because of the tax credit. On the other we are looking for low income seniors. The two don't always match up.

I think Cutie is getting the idea. She see our frustration and is beginning to understand the problems we are up against.

Now, as long as she isn't interested in taking either of our jobs...we may be okay.

Anyone got a Tums?

To Forget the Dead

2011-09-11T09:03:00.000-07:00

"To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time" - Eli Wiesel (Night)

Ten years is a long time to harbor bitterness and fear, yet that's what many of us have done since 9/11. I stand among you who have built a wall, using fear as mortar, to keep the dreaded Muslim out. I admit that when I noted that my sons flight to Europe would also be carrying several Muslim men that I felt fear in the pit of my stomach. It was the same fear when I became aware of the flight pattern his plane took when he flew to and from India.

I do not understand the terrorist mindset, nor their need to murder and destroy. I don't need to. I do not need to understand their hatred or their faith.

There really is only one thing that I must do: I must not condemn the innocent with the guilty.

I believe that Islam is a religion of lies. I also hold this to be true in regards to the Jehovah Witness', the Mormons, and any other cult that distorts the Word of the Living God.

If I am to be a follower of Christ, than my duty, my obligation, my one goal must be to love the sinner and share the news that Jesus lives.

We cannot forget the day that America, my beautiful country, was attacked and her people killed. Nor can we ignore the fact that world wide these types of attacks are growing in scope and ferocity. The world is an evil place and there will be no peace on earth until the return of the Son of God.

I wish I could say that I embrace my Muslim sister with the same joy and openness that I embrace my Christian sisters. Even though I smile, even though I laugh and joke, my heart still quakes with fear and my mind still races to thoughts that this Muslim or one she knows, may murder in the name of Islam.

"Can't we all just get along?"

No, we can't.

To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time and this is why we must not forget the heroes and victims of 9/11. We must cry when we hear their names read. We must harbor sorrow for the day America's innocence was destroyed.

We are not a city on a hill, safe and protected from the evils of this world.

Europe wasn't.

Korea is not.

As I consider these thoughts and my own short comings, I am appalled by the battle that rages in my heart. Jesus wants us to love mankind, as he did. Yet my heart feels contempt and anger when I remember the towers falling.

I do not want to forge the dead or the tragic days from ten years ago. I don't want to forget Hitler or Mao or Rwanda & Darfur. I want to let the anger and horror of it to wash over me.

But I want to rise up from this pool of tears and shine the promise of a better day.

I just don't know if I can.

Tis a Beautiful Life

2011-09-03T08:16:00.000-07:00

Today my baby turns 19. She is young and brave and intelligent. That she loves me and still calls me Mommy melts my forty-three-year-old heart as few things do. It is a joy to be her mother.

Boy just recorded his third music CD. He is talented, friendly, strong of heart and mind. He is aware of his super powers and has assured me that he uses them for good not for evil.

In a few months, my Beloved and I will celebrate twenty-four years of marriage. I cannot image what my life would be without him...so we've decided to die at exactly the same moment. Life without the other will not be worth living. Exactly how we will accomplish this hasn't exactly been decided, but I saw the movie, The Notebook, and figure if they can do it, so can we.

This month marks the 1st anniversary of owning our little green house on the corner. I am so happy here and so thankful that God gave us this little slice of heaven on earth.

I have a great job and I work with great people. Beloved is employed and the kids are doing well.

It's a beautiful, beautiful life.

Hands Off

2011-08-29T16:26:00.000-07:00

Growing up I lived in theproverbial two-story house, with two cars, one dog, and a huge garden in theback yard. My parents both worked. From the outside we were your typicalAmerican family.

Except we didn't go to church which was odd when you consider wewere utterly surrounded by Mormons and they tried, oh how they tried to convert us!

But this isn't a Mormon story (but I'll have to write about thatsometime...).

My father was a handsome man; tall, dark, good-looking - asattested to by his many girlfriends. Ahem. He was also a crier. He cried at movies, got choked up over coffee commercials, and teary over bad news. He was atoucher...again attested to by ... well, you know.

My mother...was a rock. Her stiff German exterior was moreformidable than the Berlin Wall. She wasn't an ooey, gooey kinda girl. No hugs, no kisses, no love yous. She was a tad more affectionatewith GC (her favorite child) than with the rest of us, but that was to beexpected. She's never been a hugger or a patter.

My family keeps their hands to themselves. We aren't touchers.Wedidn't go around touching other people. It simply wasn'tdone...except for Dad of course...

My Beloved is a canyou massage my back kinda guy. His mother was a hugger. Man, could thatwoman hug! Beloved's family is pretty hands on, not over the top, but touchy in agood way. I've learned a lot from them.

While my Beloved lurves him some massage action, I draw the lineat any massages coming my way. I have a firm handsoff policy when it comes to that. To think of a stranger putting theirhands allll over me....eeewwww! It just makes me want to run screaming for thehills. It's just disgusting.

I once had a manicure, not knowing that the manicurist massagesyour hands. Why? Why would you do that? It was greasy and uncomfortable and I felt kind of dirty afterwards, like I'd some how had a secret liaison with thiswoman I'd never met and I paid for it! EWW!

My poor adopted mother would rub my shoulders and exclaim that I was far too tense. She's attempt to steer me towards Greta, her massage therapist. She even offered to pay. I finally had to ask her to stop trying to pimp me and keep her hands to herself.

She was a little offended, but she got over it and she keeps herpaws off my shoulders and Greta never comes in to the conversation these days.

And even though I cannot stand the thought of a massage, I'veworked hard to overcome the non-touching way I was brought up.

I hug.

I pat.

I occasionally give the playful punch.

I hug my kiddos and my friends. I've hugged the occasionalstranger... which is always awkward and uncomfortable. I know it's got to bejust me, but when did our society become so handson? Guys hugging guys, girls hugging girls, everybody hugging everybody?

It's just weird. Plain and simple.

When the big bosses came to town...you got it...they were huggers.These were men I'd never even laid eyes on and the first thing I know I'mhugging the guy who signs my paycheck. It was weird! I thought we were goingfor the good ol' firm handshake, but no! He swooped right in and huggedme.

It was strange, but not as strange as when I had to hug the bossof my boss. He's about my height, maybe a bit taller and it was more of ashoulder bump than a hug. We both stood there afterwards feeling a little odd.I mean, we are strangers and we just hugged. Where do you go from there?

I was so relieved when I left our dinner meeting that they wereall sitting down.

No, please don't get up! I'll show myself out! NO MORE HUGGING!

Maybe there is a support group I can join. Huggers Anonymous orsomething.

Hello, my name is Annie. It's been two dayssince I was forced into hugging anyone...

I've worked hard to not be like my mother, but I admit that I really struggle with this hugging nonsense. Can't we all just keep our hands to ourselves?

The Good Old Days

2011-08-24T20:38:00.000-07:00

It's small.

It's round.

It catches any light that happens upon it and reflects it back in a dazzling display of brilliance.

Once given it remains in place.

Or, at least it should.

This small symbol of love and fidelity adorns many a finger; both male and female.

It's a little band and yet it means so much.

Or, at least it should.

Working out in the big, bad world after so many years at home has left me utterly astonished at the actions of those around me. Oh, I talk a big game, but when it comes right down to it I'm a conservative, shockingly naive at times, woman.

I blush...easily.

The men I work with are a little too friendly at times. I remind them, daily, that I am a married woman. I walk away when the jesting becomes tasteless. I've even gone so far as to tell one "gentleman" (and I use the term loosely) to watch his mouth and not speak to me that way.

He was contrite and embarrassed ...as he very well should be.

There was a time, or at least I like to pretend there was, when that little band of gold on girls finger would protect her from the bawdy jokes of men.

Sometimes I miss working in an all female gym...

I'm not a prude, but I don't feel respected when some dude feels the need to tell me a dirty joke, just to watch me blush. Maybe he's surprised by my reacting since I'm in my forties and have two grown children. I don't know.

I wonder where all the dignity has gone in our society. When did we get to the point that it was acceptable for a man to hit/flirt/ask out an obviously married woman?

It's crazy I tell you!

A Letter to my Little One

2011-08-22T11:04:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, I know, you are not a little girl. I know. I've seen your shoe size! No little girl could consume the amount of coffee that you do and live. Small girls do not have hundreds of friends on Facebook and they certainly don't own a pair of man hooking shoes as you do.

I get it.

Even though you are tall and lean and own college books and made the Presidents list throughout school last year, you will always be my little girl.

Anyway, this post is not about you being your Mommy's little girl. This post is about you being Daddy's little girl.

It's an entirely different subject.

Before I go too far, you need to realize my darling daughter, that your Father use to be a young man. He use to have a motorcycle. He drove his camaro too fast. He used his powers for evil, instead of good...if you get my meaning. Back in the day, your father...well, he was a bad boy. Not "jail" bad boy, but bad enough that all my friends thought I was crazy to go out with him.

And you know how Grandma and Grandpa felt about my marrying him!

With that in mind, I think you'll kind of understand why he gets a little nervous when you say that you might travel to India or England or Russia or anywhere he can't drive to. It's hard for him to let you grow up. After all, he has spent all these years protecting you.

Daddies are funny that way.

This trip that you are considering will be difficult for your Father to grasp. It's a big, scary world out there full of bad men.

Human trafficking

Marketplace Bombs

Earthquakes

Terrorists

Tidal Waves

Good looking young men who speak a foreign language.

I think you get my point. When you say India all Daddy hears is

"Kidding napping of blond American under investigation," report at 11:00

If you mention Russia, Daddy's mind screams:

"Blond American woman, age 19, sold into human trafficking ring." News at 11:00

And you know it's true. The world is a dark, tragic place full of despair and mayhem.

But it's also a place of beauty and wonder. There are sites to see and new people to meet. You are at an age when you should have new experiences. You should follow God's leading. You should make your own decisions.

I'm not saying that you shouldn't be careful and I'm certainly not saying that you shouldn't consider Daddy's opinion. What I am saying is that you should GO!

GO! See the world.

GO! Meet new people.

GO! Learn new things.

Now is the time!

And please don't worry about Daddy. I'll take care of him.

After all, we girls gotta stick together, but don't think I won't miss you. Don't think my mind doesn't scream a bit too. It's just that this window of opportunity is short and I don't want you to wonder what if. I don't want you to ever feel like you missed out or that we held you back.

So GO! FIGHT! WIN! and call me when you get back dahling!

Everyone Does It

2011-08-19T21:11:00.000-07:00

We grow old I mean. Well, if we are lucky, we grow old. Our hair turns gray, our wrinkles have wrinkles, we forget the present and remember the past.

I work with old people.

I now attend an "old" church.

I'm surrounded by the aged.

Of course the problem is that when you are surrounded by the elderly you cannot help but see your future...

It's not really a pretty picture.

There is the lonely, the lost, the distressed.

Some can't see.

Other's can't hear.

And yet they still act like a bunch of high schoolers from an episode of Glee (without all the singing and dancing).

They flirt.

They gossip.

Sometimes they are mean.

I am witness to one dear sweet Christian lady who is slowly losing her mind and it hurts my heart. No amount of reassurance helps. Kind words are softly smiled at and swept away with the delicate wave of her hand. Her blue eyes look into mine with an earnestness I have never seen before and I know in my heart of hearts that she truly believes that someone is entering her apartment and stealing her clothes...while she's home.

My dear, sweet little Peggy. She's lost her keys (they are on the door step). She lost her purse (it's on the sofa). She's going for a walk (without her cane).

And as I watch her toddle around and listen as she calls me dear, I realize that I will probably not be as sweet or as kind when I am 90. I'll be cranky. I'll be moody. No one will think me sweet or precious.

I'm growing older and every now and then I feel a tingle of regret for things undone, for trips not taken, and words that were left unspoken.

There is so much to say...and so little time.

Lovely, Lovely Weekend

2011-08-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

It was a beautiful evening.

We came to see this guy.

In case you can't tell who this is, it's Clint Black.

He puts on a great show!

We were going to ride this, but the line was too long.

So, we came back the next day and rode it.

It was kinda creepy - which cracked up both up.

It's been years since we rode any rides and now the Ferris Wheel is creepy?

I think we need to get out more!

That "Ah ha!" Moment

2011-07-21T22:00:00.000-07:00

The call came in the middle of Beloved and I watching one of our favorite shows. When I saw the number, I pushed paused, looked at Beloved and sighed. It was GC.

The conversation started out in the same guarded way that our conversations do these days.

I could hear a question lingering in his voice, but I waited for him to decided to bring up whatever subject was eating at him.

"Um...Mom wants to know if you have Grandpa Bill's service flag."

My Opa was an American GI who drove an ambulance in Germany during the war. He was smitten on a sassy, strawberry blond Fraulein whose blue eyes haunted his dreams. He was a gentle man with a quiet sense of humor, or so I've been told. He died of brain cancer when I was five.

My Omi remarried a few years later. She married a man who was so strikingly similar to her first husband that my mother darn near passed out when she met the man who became her step father and the only Grandfather any of us kids would ever know. He too was a gentle man with a quiet sense of humor and had also served in the armed forces in Europe during the war.

"I don't have the flag, in fact I haven't seen it in years. The only things I have are the dishes that mom stole and hid at my house so Omi wouldn't know where they were."

Now, just between us, I have always felt terribly guilty about that little conspiracy, but I came clean with Omi and told her that I had her wedding dishes. She was glad to hear that I had them and my mother did not.

Of course, this is all just my word, there is no one left alive who can attest to my story. Well, other than my mother who can prove that she stole them from Omi and hid them at my house.

Ugh! Family is just ugly. UGLY I say!

I promised my brother that I don't have the flag, which is true. I honestly don't, but if I did, I would give it to him. I'm not going to fight over "stuff".

But the dishes....I figure sooner or later my mother is going to want these German wedding dishes. By all rights, they are hers, not mine. Yet, I cannot help but feel entitled to them. I was the one who had a relationship with Omi. I was the one who held her hand as she lay dying.

Then again, baby, it's just stuff and stuff just complicates things and makes people miserable. So, that being said, if she asks for the dishes I will hand them over...with just a little regret in my heart.

But I'll keep reminding myself that one day I will see Omi again and then neither one of us will care about a bunch of old dishes.

And that's enough for me.

Reality

2011-07-19T20:13:00.000-07:00

So, an attitude adjustment does help the long drive across town to work. It helps me to deal with all the unpleasant things at the other property; the backstabbing, the stoopid questions, the being yelled at, and my personal favorite, the being set up.

It helps.

In reality, this reality, this real life that I am living, there will be no parties.

No good time Charlie.

No BBQ.

Who on earth has time for all that?

But my hair is super cute.

And we are having the house re-plumbed - this is what you get when you purchase a 40+ year old house.

OOHHHHH but I do love my little green house on the corner!

But it's so quiet with Girl gone.

Attitude is everything.

It helps you to not off yourself when the boredom starts to eat your brain in the hours between driving to your job.

Hey, I didn't say I had a good attitude!

I do.

For the most part.

Kinda.

Attitude Adjustment

2011-07-18T07:07:00.000-07:00

I'm off to work in mere moments but I've been thinking a lot about attitude.

Mine isn't always great.

Sometimes it kinda stinks.

Which is rotten of me considering I have so much to be happy about!

It's going to be a long week.

But I'm going to keep it all in perspective and try to have a good attitude.

Even when I'm working clear, across town.

Even when I don't know what I'm doing.

When I'm tired.

When I'm over it.

It's easy to be optimistic on Monday...isn't it?

I want to have a party this weekend, but I have to work on Saturday. Should I have a party on Friday anyway? Could be fun and it would give me something to look forward to.

Might have to think that one over!

60 Seconds

2011-07-16T19:49:00.000-07:00

I can be slow at times.

Dim witted.

It sometimes takes me awhile to put it all together.

Eventually, the light bulb flickers on.

GC told me recently that he's been speaking to our eldest brother. He's the brother I never mention and there are many variables to the puzzle that is our family's past. None of which am I willing to discuss at this point in time.

But GC said something to me last night that caused my brain cells to flicker to life and then I had to know.

"Are you trying to make peace with the past because you think you are dying?" I asked.

GC's chocked affirmative of the obvious shook me to my boots.

He's afraid to die and he thinks that by somehow laying to rest all the bitterness and pain of our childhood that he will find peace.
.
.
.
But he won't.

I explained to him that the past is the past. Ya' gotta let it go. Ya' gotta move on.

Forgive

Forget

I realized in sixty-seconds that he called me, not because he truly is sorry for what happened, but because he thinks he is dying and he's trying to leave this world in a good light.

I love that big, clueless lug.

It doesn't matter why he called. I'm glad he did. I'm glad I got to apologize for being a fly-off-the-handle kinda girl. I'm thankful he accepted my apologize and even joked about our family temper.

But my heart is breaking for the man who has spent two years mourning our Omi and sinking in the misery of his own mortality. He may very well be dying...we all are, just some sooner than others, but the peace he is looking for cannot be found in relationships, alcohol, women, or therapy.

He knows where I'm coming from, so there isn't any need for me to repeat the obvious and yet it is so tragic to see him flail against the peace that only God gives. He's heard it all before and yet he clings to this life of misery.

And I can only sit back and watch.

The best thing I can do is to pray for him and hope the he will see the gift that has been laid before him.

It only takes sixty-seconds to realize that there is more, so much more, to this life and death we humans experience.

If he'd only open his heart and his ears for sixty-seconds to the One who loves him most.

Just sixty-seconds and his life (and death) would change forever.

The Return of Golden Child

2011-07-09T17:01:00.000-07:00

Sorry...

I know it's been a while since I've checked in. Quick update then:

The get away with Beloved...magical, lovely, a bit tipsy, and relaxing. Cannot wait to do it again!

Kids: Both great.

Job: Stressful

Co-Workers: Wonderful...'cept for that back-stabbing, "non" training, lying, over-the-top, one who isn't my boss, but likes to think she is when she isn't being threatened by me. Yeah, her I could live without.

House: ahhhh lovin' my house, but the yard needs a serious makeover!

Okay, so there you go. But wait! I titled this post The Return of Golden Child and I didn't explain ANYTHING! My bad. Sorry.

If you have been a reader of this little blog of mine for any time, then you know I have three brothers: The eldest is out of the picture and has been for years and years. Then there is my middle brother, known sarcastically as Golden Child or simply GC, and my youngest brother, Baby.

Baby and I have a conversation about twice a year. This works well for both of us and we don't mess with each other's mojo or pretend our relationship is anything more than it is. It is simple and uncomplicated.

GC and I have a more volatile relationship because he's the favorite and I'm not. It's pretty simple really. The funny thing is, up until nearly two years ago, we were very close.

So...what happened two years ago? Our Omi died. Both GC and I were there for her final days. They were emotional, gut-wrenching days, and GC took it really, really badly. Being the traditional middle child that he is, he attempted to "fix" our family.

This translates into his attempting to make me speak to my mother.

Call me bitter.

Call me a grudge holder.

But I do not speak to my mother.

At least I haven't since the last time I was told that her emotional problems and threats of suicide were my fault.

I simply do not have enough hands to juggle her emotional problems. She needs help and my pleas for the rest of the family, including my father, have all fallen on deaf ears.

But this post isn't about mommy dearest. Nope. It's about her favorite son and my estranged brother, GC.

The last time GC and I spoke...okay, we didn't "speak" we were txting and fighting like children, it ended in a flurry of name calling and requests to send a postcard from hell. Not. Pretty. So you can understand why when I saw his name on my phone, I didn't answer the call. Frankly, I was fairly certain he was going to tell me that one of my parents had died. It's a call I've been expecting for a long time.

Imagine my surprise when I listened to his voicemail and heard the following words:

"Hi...it's me. I don't want to hold a grudge anymore. I'm sorry for whatever I did that made you feel bad. I love you."

To be truthful, I was a bit miffed by the, "Whatever I did..."part. I considered that he isn't the sharpest tack in the box and that maybe he really didn't know that trying to guilt and threaten me into speaking to mommy dearest might have ticked me off. Then I remembered that he is her son and does know a thing or two about the way I tick.

I didn't return his call.

I needed time to think.

When he phoned 24-hours later, I answered. I admit it was a good conversation and apologize poured forth from both sides. I learned things about the days following Omi's death. My heart jumped a little bit when he told me about his life threatening disease.

Kinda hard to be stoic when you realize that the big ape may not survive much longer.

So, here I sit, our relationship mended, and a cloudy future before us. I wonder about his illness and wonder what it all means in the grand scheme of things. I wonder if he's made peace with God. I worry that he'll use it to force me into a conversation with mommy dearest.

At any rate, this little black sheep is glad that there is peace between herself and the Golden Child. I've missed having family. Now, I just wonder how long I'll have one.

Worth Reading

2011-06-29T12:32:00.000-07:00

If you're up for a quick ready. Go here:

http://poetry-outlet.blogspot.com/2011/06/t-cirrus-mann.html

In other news:

The job is stressful when I'm at the other property. I prefer my current property and am hopeful my torture at the other one ends soon. Bleh.

And Beloved and I are off for a couple of days out of town. We are going to see Alison Krauss and hang out in sporty, touristy town. Should be oodles of fun!

And...yes, I suck at blogging these days. So. Busy.

If I Could Make it all Fall in Line

2011-06-05T08:55:00.000-07:00

I wake up every morning of the work week at 4:30am, but don't crawl out of bed until 5:15am.

I leave the house at 7:15am.

I return home at 5:40pm-ish.

Most mornings I get in some Bible time.

Some mornings I don't.

The gym has been hit and miss for the last four weeks, with a little more miss than hit.

The housework is UNENDING.

I just want to pull it together and make everything run smoothly, but I'm failing in just about every department except my employment.

Suggestions?

This is Annie and I'm Listening

2011-06-04T07:56:00.000-07:00

I've been MIA from blogging. I'm too busy and too frazzled, but it's all in a good way.

Working in property management is interesting and seldom dull. The best part is not being micromanaged about every flippin' detail every single day. It's refreshing and I'm allowed to be creative and bring my own ideas to the table. Plus, I have a marketing budget. Do you know how much fun it is to create and execute events (mindful of the budget) while spending other people’s money? Dude, it is super cool!

And they PAY me a very nice salary to do this. It's amazing.

Of course, there is a down side too. Because our residents are 55+ they have different ideas about the way things should be done and they are not afraid to tell you or me, as the case may be. Sometimes they'll simply phone me and share what's on their mind. Other times they'll just pull up a chair in my office and begin telling me their tale. This is all especially fun because I'm new and they feel the need to share the story...from the beginning...of time...

For instance, yesterday I got to hear all about the dead bushes outside one sweet, little old lady's window. She told me how the big snowstorm had killed them, how the previous foreman had promised to remove them, and how the current foreman was a lazy good-for-nothing. Her tone dripped sweetness as she wheedled her words across my desk in an attempt to get me to fix her problem.

Sadly, that isn't my department and I cannot do a thing about it, other than to ask the foreman what the deal is and ask if we could just remove them. Honestly, I don't know why they haven't been removed or why we haven't jerked them out of the ground. I feel a little bit like marching down there with a shovel and just digging them out. It would probably take me about half an hour.

Instead, I smiled and I listened and I apologized during the twenty-minute conversation.

She welcomed me to the property and tottered away leaving me a little battle weary and just as I sat down at my desk, Problem Number Two entered my office. In the beginning, about a month ago, I liked Problem Number Two. She's funny. She's well traveled. She makes me laugh. I didn't realize that it was all a ruse and that she was simply trying to gain some footing for her real agenda: gossip.

Problem Number Two is the first one to come into the office when the police/ambulance/fire truck has been on site. She's the first one to casually mention who is "dating" whom, and she always knows how late her neighbors get in.

Yesterday, she told me the entire history of the poker playing, drug making, cancer faking, blind, con artist who moved away but is now back - taking advantage of one of our male residents, making more drugs, and conning the entire complex.... again.

The forty-five minute conversation ended with a complaint about someone's car being parked in the "loading zone" in front of her building.

Only, we don't have a loading zone...I made her happy by walking down, looking at the vehicle, and writing it on my notepad. Not that anything will happen because no one is breaking any rules.

Then, of course, there was the frizzy blonde who came in to accuse us of breaking into her apartment and replacing her THREE-unit phone with a TWO-unit phone. She accused our landscapers of following her from her previous apartment to her current residence. She snarled that our foreman was in on it because, "They stick together.... that kind..." The landscapers are Hispanic and our foreman is Native American...

By the end of the day I was ready to lock up shop and flee to the safety of my forty minute drive home, which wouldn' t be a forty minute drive if people would JUST DRIVE THE SPEED LIMIT!

I love my new job, I do, but I'm starting to feel like a shrink whose only solution is to write a prescription to mask the problem, not cure it.

Glenda? Is That You?

2011-05-19T20:40:00.000-07:00

Today consisted of:

A broken lunch date, sorry friend.

Coughing, coughing, coughing.

A crazy ride in a golf cart. Honestly. It was a scary ride.

Sniffle, sniffle. sniffle.

Wicked witch of the West shoes (not worn by yours truly). Seriously, black and wickedly pointy toes. They had a small, tight black heel that made a loud clicking sound on the black top and demanded your attention. The fact that they made the wearers feet look incredibly long made them attractive, but my eyes were still drawn to that sharp toe. I thought about Dorothy and more than once, I glanced heavenward...you know, just in case.

A restraining order. It was all drama and tragedy and the most poignant part was the police officer telling me how she didn't want to make the arrest. It just broke my heart when the gentleman in question turned around and said, "See you sweetheart."

A box of doughnuts. No, I did not buy them. Beloved did. I'll make him pay for bringing me a maple bar later...after I finish eating it.

And my telling my daughter that she is not allowed to marry any of the foreign pilots in her aviation class because he will take her out of the country and I will never see her again!

Cough,sniffle, cough, achoo!

And how was your day?

Making an Impression

2011-05-18T12:35:00.000-07:00

This week was to be my second full week. I was starting to feel my grove and getting use to the 8-5 run. It wasn't all that bad either.

On Monday my trainer came into town and we spent a lot of time going over the software, etc. It was a little tedious because I had already gone over most of it in the online training, but I didn't want miss any tips or shortcuts that she could show me. Trainer is super nice and very funny and she knows her stuff!

Things were going great until about 2:00pm. That's when the cold bug hit me up along side the head and caused my nose to run, my head to ache, and my throat became the home of a large and unruly toad.

Croak!

Because I'm new and because I know that making a good impression is very important, I showed up for work Tuesday morning. Both the Manager and the Trainer looked at me and asked, "Why are you here?"

I explained that it was just a cold and that I also had phone training scheduled with a party back east and didn't feel that it was right to call in sick. They both told me that I should go home. Manager said that if I wanted leave after my phone training that would be great.

Then she promptly wiped down every single surface in her office with Clorox wipes. I noted that there was a LARGE container of Clorox wipes on my desk as well.

Gee, can I take a hint?

After I completed my phone training, the Trainer told me I should go home.

Everyone wanted me to leave.

I could smell the Lysol.

So, I went home.

And I called in sick today.

And even thought they said it doesn't look bad, I feel like it does.

What a way to make a first impression!

Sniff
Sniff
Cough
Cough

Lovely, Lovely Saturday

2011-05-14T08:25:00.000-07:00

Saturday: sweet, sleepy, Saturday.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

1. I love sleeping in until 7:30. Bliss.

2. I love your no rush ways and your fragrant coffee.

3. I love that there will be no heels worn today.

4. I love that soon, the house will be clean and restocked with food.

Thus ends my first full week of full time employment. It was a great week. I've learned so much (and have sooo much to learn). I feel like I really started to accomplish some tasks without much hand holding by the wonderful Megan.

She is happy too. For the first time in months, she left work on a Friday at 5:00pm. I think she danced a little jig on her way to her car.

My Girl's only complaint is that there is nothing to eat in this house!. I will fix that little problem today! Promise!

Today, we'll drive down to see Boy and spend a little time with him. Bliss!!

Ahh, lovely, lovely Saturday. I embrace you with my entire soul!

The Fight

2011-05-08T17:11:00.000-07:00

This is Girl.

For the most part, we get along like two peas in a pod.

Like two cats outta the same bag.

Like two humps on a camel.

Birds of a feather.

You get my point.

Girl is attending our local Jr. college with her eye on a aviation degree.

She r smart.

She earned a spot on the Presidents List for winter term.

Her r sooper smart.

But recently we discovered that there is a step in her development that we missed.

We've never had The Fight.

This was brought to Girl's attention by a classmate who was grumbling about her own mother. She told Girl she thought it might be time for her to have The Fight with her mother. Girl, bless her little innocent soul, blinked at her classmate and asked what The Fight was.

Classmate looked at her in a bewildered way and smirked, "The fight is the daughter asserting her independence and the mother being an over-controlling troll..."

Or something to that affect.

When Girl informed me that we hadn't had "The Fight" I had to ask girl for the definition because I didn't know what it meant. We had a good chuckle over it, because we've never had The Fight and we don't intend to.

Of course, I had The Fight with my own mother, but that wasn't until I was 36.

Sad

Sad

Sad

At any rate, I am happy to report that neither of us is interested in having The Fight. I'll let her fly, literally, and she won't hate my guts for eternity.

Sounds like a fair trade, don't you think?

Happy Mother's Day!

Crabby McCrabby and His LOUD Friends

2011-05-04T19:53:00.000-07:00

First day on the job went really well. I learned that I have a lot to learn. A LOT. I was handed two very large binders and one smaller one and told to read them. I have online classes. I have a telephone class. I have no idea how I'm going to learn all this stuff.

Oi!

But it's good! It's exciting! It's something new and different.

And speaking of different....

I met many of the residents who reside in the complex I'll mainly be working at. Some were super sweet. Others were friendly. A few wanted to know if I would be sticking around or if the other property would steal me away. Then there was the crabby ones.

They complained about their rent.

They complained about burnt cookies (from days ago).

They complained about how hot it was. (Seriously, it was a lovely lovely lovely day topping out at around 77 degrees).

They complained about their neighbors.

And I watched Megan the Masterful deal with each of them in her sweet, understanding way. Her smile never faltered. Her tone was even and kind. She listened to them, reassured them, explained things to them, and reiterated company policy over and over and over again.

Dude, she's amazing.

My office, yep, my own little office WITH conference table, is just down the hall from the billiards room. Those men get real serious about pool. I listened to them carry on for over an hour and couldn't help but smile at their exclamations.

I met the charmers, who hold your hand too long. I met the really nice, soft spoken gentlemen. I met their wives and their girlfriends.

I met the sex kittens, who at 60+ are still on the prowl.

I met those sweet grandma types who just dropped by to say hello and comment on the weather.

Over all, it was a good day.

Change is Good

2011-05-03T20:32:00.000-07:00

New Boss: Hi it's Megan!

Me: Hi Megan!!!

New Boss: So, I got your criminal background check paperwork back from corporate. You should have told me that you poisoned your first husband....

Me: Did I forget to mention that?

Tomorrow I begin my new job. I have packed everyones lunch, prepared my gym bag, and considered (and reconsidered) what to wear.

Girl gave me an early Mother's Day gift and paid for a manicure so my nails would look all purty on my first day.

This new position is going to be such a great fit and I am truly looking forward to working with Megan (who is a m a z i n g). I think we'll make a great team and the parts of the job that she doesn't care for, well, they are right up my alley.

When she interviewed me she said, "Okay, so that's all the fun stuff. Now let me tell you about the bad stuff." She went on to explain that at this complex management hosts some form of party every month. This means doing all the planning, decorating, and cooking. Every Friday we provide home baked cookies in the club house.

I LOVE TO THROW PARTIES AND BAKE COOKIES!

The down side for me will be making sure that I keep the 45 lbs I've lost off!

NO COOKIES FOR YOU!

Life is going to be different around here, but I'm sure we will all adjust. If nothing else it may just be the catalyst for Girl FINALLY getting her drivers license. Sooner or later she's going to get tired of taking the bus.

Right?

Change is good and this new job means we can actually do some of the home improvement plans we've been ~~whining~~ talking about.

I'll probably won't sleep a wink tonight. I feel like a kid before the first day of school.

Random Ten

2011-04-27T16:03:00.000-07:00

In all honesty I cannot think of a single topic to blog about. So, I'll blog about ten things I've been thinking about.

1. My mother. It always happens around this time of year. I start thinking about my mother. Since my Omi passed away I have no one to send a card to. I wonder what would happen if I sent her a card. From past experience I believe we would cycle down the same dreary road which would end with me being ticked off and her being suicidal.

I think I'll forgo the card sending again this year.

2. Dandelions. Honestly. I think we should use them as a biological weapon against our enemies. You simply cannot kill them. If we loaded plane loads full of them we could drop them over unsuspecting countries and they'd be so busy trying to get rid of them, they wouldn't have any time to stir up trouble.

3. Speaking of other countries. I think we need to stop supporting every.single.country. on the face of the planet and pull our resources back into the good ol' USA. Remember when we were a country of industry? We could be again. Just sayin'.

4. Tonight I am cooking Swai. It's a fish. Don't be afraid. It's something new and new is good!

5. Which leads me to think of our upcoming vacation! We have tickets to see Allison Krause in concert and are going to stay at Villa Columbia Bed and Breakfast.I am so looking forward to this fun time with my Beloved, only I'm worried about our old doggy Sam. He doesn't seem himself and I wonder how he'll do on his own for a couple of days. Not that he'll be "alone" since my good friend The Giver will be here looking after him. It's just that he's soooo old and soooo unlike himself. Poor old thing.

6. And then there's the whole new bonding thing that will take place at my new place of employment. There's a whole cast of characters over there with new names to learn. They don't know how funny I am and I'm certain I'll just come off as a dork. Uggh. I hate the dork stage of a new relationship and I miss my girls from the old gym. They thought I was funny and laughed at all my stupid jokes. Now I'll have a whole new set of folks to train in Idiot Girl humor.

7. Be seein' ya girlfriends! Another one of my old friends quipped how she never sees me. She said she'll have to get on Facebook to see what I'm up to. She said, "You know, you can all me sometime. Even if I'm not in town, my phone rings..." Gulp. I'm a bad friend.

8. And speaking of relationships, Girl is still guarding her phone number and Boy is still mooning over a girl in his church. Both situations make me crazy. Girl keeps getting asked for her phone number. She is still rejecting those who ask, but I wonder about that one guy. You know the one. The one who is funny and dorky like Girl is. But Girl isn't sure he's serious enough about faith and such. Sigh. Then Boy's situation is maddening because I want to fix everything. I want this girl who is so young, so sweet, and so not ready for a relationship to BE READY. Of course, I'm keeping my GREAT BIG MOUTH shut on both fronts.

(Boy/Girl if you read this....I didn't mean anything and I have no opinions as to what you should do...honest...stop laughing...I do too mean it....)

9. I need to find the perfect housewarming gift for Soldier Mommy who just purchased her first home. I'm so happy for her but cannot decide what to get. A gift card seems so lame, but she's a shopper and I'm certain she has everything she could possible need. Suggestions?

10. I can hear the ice cream truck as I sit here and I think it's weird that it's running so early in the year. For heaven's sake, it's pouring out there! And just now I realize that I have never bought ice cream from a truck. Never. I find that kind of sad.

I Wasn't Looking....Honest

2011-04-25T16:26:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I received an email from a former co-employee. She offered me a job, stating that she knew I would be the perfect fit. She admitted that she felt a little guilty stealing me away from Curves (she thought I was still at the old location) but that she could offer me more money, no night or weekends, and advancement.

What's a girl to do?

I applied of course.

I told my new boss about the offer and that I felt guilty about possibly leaving her gym. Mel told me that if the same offer were made to her that she would take it.

"Go for it!"

I had three interviews, the last one being this afternoon. I've been offered the job at a wage well above the going rate, even though I have no experience in this line of work. My new boss said that she felt confident offering me the post and the pay because she feels I will bring a lot of experience and enthusiasm to the position.

I'm super excited!

Another wonderful thing is that I can still work at the gym and continue learning about management and ownership. My heart is still set on owning my own gym some day.

There have been a few people who assumed that I was "looking" for a new position, but I swear I wasn't. It just fell into my lap and it's such a great opportunity that I couldn't pass it up.

It means I'll be able to pay to have a new fence built, have the house re-plumbed and support some of the ministries we've been unable to support in the past.

It means my Beloved can breath a little easier.

It means I can help Boy and Girl with life expenses.

It means full time....gulp.

Not really! I'm really looking forward to learning something new and seeing where it all takes me.

Five Things I Love about Christ: An Easter Meme

2011-04-23T23:00:00.000-07:00

My dear friend, Mr. T. Paine of Saving Common Sense fame (http://savingcommonsense.blogspot.com/), tagged me in this Easter Meme. So, here we go!

The Five Things I Love about Christ

1. Unconditional Love - For the majority of my life I have sought after the unconditional love and acceptance of my parents. It has never been granted me. In their eyes I am constant and utter failure. It's sad, isn't it? But Christ....ahhhh Christ, not only does He accept me, He wants me. He sees my many flaws and weaknesses and loves me none the less.

*For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son...John 3:16

2. Sanctification: It's for Everyone - faith brings peace with God. Knowing that I am unable, of my own accord, to be perfect, still God shows us that through the difficulties of this life, we can grow and learn and change.

*Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God. and not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. -Romans 5:1-5

3. He died for Me - Blood. It's messy. It stains. It's the ultimate price of redemption and He paid the price for those who would believe. It's a difficult concept, this bloody business. Sin has a price and it's a high one. Christ paid it for me...for you.

*...but, emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Philippians 2:7-8

4. Life Beyond the Daily Grind - I have friends who believe in...nothing. NO heaven. NO hell. Death in this life ends their entire existences. Personally, I find that a little depressing. I mean, this, this life is...it? This is all? If this is it, then why do we continue? In Christ there is a greater life on earth, but more importantly there is a greater life YET to come. I find that beautiful and mysterious.

*Truly, truly, I saw to you, he who hears My word, and believes Him who sent Me, has eternal life and does not come into judgement, but has passed out of death into life John 5:24

5. He wins! - Say what you will, but there is evil afoot on this earth. And in some ways it may look as if that evil is winning and that God is dead, but it isn't so! This life is riddled with pain and suffering, but there are better things to come. Jesus wins in the end. Knowing the outcome of the war, sure makes the bumps and bruises of this world easier to deal with.

*These will wage war against the Lamb (Jesus), and the Lamb will overcome them, because He is Lord of lords and King of kings, and those who are with Him are the called and chosen and faithful Revelation 17:14

There you have it. Christ loves me, He changes me, He purchased me, He gives me a future and a hope, and in the end, HE WINS!

Happy Resurrection Day

End of Lent: Part One

2011-04-18T12:39:00.000-07:00

So, not being Catholic, I didn't realize that Lent officially ends on Thursday (Maundy Thursday). Of course, it depends on where you get your information too. It seems that not all websites agree with a starting and ending date for Lent. Sometimes Sunday's are not counted in the forty days. Regardless, I kept my end of the bargain for forty days and that makes me happy.

My sacrifice for Lent was to give up sugar. All sugar, save that which occurs naturally in fruit. It was either sugar or the Internet, so I guess you know where my priorities are. To be honest, the first two weeks were difficult, but not impossible. Sure, I whined to my family and promised that I was indeed going to bake and eat a slice of cake as soon as my forty days were up.

The greatest challenge regarding the sacrifice was warding off the sweet advances of others. Because I didn't want to act the role of the martyr I refrained from sharing my Lenten journey with anyone outside my home. I did not realize what a role sugar takes in entertaining. I passed up cookies offered by my sons landlords. I had my dessert from the fancy pants restaurant boxed up and gave it to my children. I refused gum, candies, and all sorts of gooey yummies that I swear wore the face of Satan! Okay, not really, but I honestly didn't realize how often someone offers me a sugar filled treat.

How then did the sacrifice affect my spiritual life? Basically, it taught me that if my focus is in the right place (God) than nothing is impossible. Giving up sugar was not that hard. I suppose that because I was giving something up for the Lord, that it was easier NOT to give in. Let's face it, if you are giving your word (promise) to the Almighty...well, it's easier to keep.

But from my understanding, the Lenten sacrifice should cycle into more than a mere temporary sacrifice. It should transform my life. Let's face it, sugar, in all it's glorious yumminess, is not good for me (or you). If I am to truly learn anything from this season, I should have learned that my life is actually better without sugar. I do believe this be true. I learned that the pure, unaltered sweetness of fruit is far better tasting than that of the processed treats I am use to.

I've decided to continue my "fast" of sugar in that it should be an occasional treat not an every day event.

I'm also considering that next year my sacrifice for Lent should revolve around actions or character flaws that are keeping me from a closer relationship with God. Maybe, just maybe, I'm getting the hang of this Lent idea.

Later, I'll write about my spiritual journey during Lent and where it led me and where I feel I failed.

It Had to Happen

2011-04-11T20:38:00.000-07:00

Things I miss about the farm. You knew it had to happen. Sooner or later I'd bemoan this city life and yearn for the sweet (think cow dung) smell of home.

Only, I don't really miss it.

Not really.

Okay, I miss a few things.

I miss my children trotting down the road to fetch the mail. It was a heckofa long way from the house and it was always good fer stretchin' yer legs after a long day of school.

I miss the silence of it all. Sitting with my Beloved on the patio, listening to the crickets as they played their evening symphonies. Candles would flicker in the setting sun as the sky blazed pink and blue. Then we'd run into the house because the skeeters would eat you ALIVE.

I miss my yellow rose bush.

I remember when I'd lay a sheet out in the yard. It would lay partly in the sun and partly in shade because the children could never agree to be in one or the other. Then we'd read funny poems from Shel Silverstein and spit watermelon seeds.

I miss Mom's butterfly bush.

I'm certain I have a scar from raspberry and blackcap picking. There must be at least one burn mark from canning peaches or pears. Sometimes I can smell that rank stench of cattle in the morning and see the flies as they gently alight and then land on the hard rump of some bovine.

I miss...But wait. Most of these are memories. Only some are things I truly miss, like rose bushes. I suppose it's not the farm I miss, but the little farm hands.

I do not miss bovines or dung or tangled wire. Or nails or tacks or that weird thing we used on the calves. I do not miss the bats that would swoop down at dusk in the barn. I do not miss the rats when we had chickens. And I certainly do not miss the chickens.

But I miss farm kids.

Dirty, smelly, tanned farm kids.

Wait...What?

2011-04-07T18:57:00.000-07:00

So, I thought I had things all figured out.

I had a plan.

Then one little message on Facebook gave me pause. It threw me a curve. One I hadn't expected or was looking for.

Now I like an adventure as much as the next guy, but really God? Really?

He's got a great sense of humor.

I'll be meeting with the person who posted the message in the next few days. Let's see if she truly makes me an offer I cannot refuse.

Then I may need a new map, because I have no idea where my life is leading me!

Lent: Week Four - Y'all Got Faith?

2011-04-06T13:17:00.000-07:00

Hard to believe isn't it? Week four and still holding steady to my sacrifice.

Last week I left my job of nearly three years. It wasn't an easy decision, as I mentioned in a recent post, but I thought it was the right decision.

Easy = Right?

My Bible study during this season of Lent has been about Faith. Having it, grasping it, longing for more of it. And things were floating right along. That is until I came to understand a few things about the new job.

It ain't no picnic sistah!

Not that it's bad, not at all. It's just I learned new information (stuff I thought I read and understood) and it freaked me out. Then I worried about hours.I wondered about leadership. I fretted over connecting to this new environment.

And I questioned what I thought I heard God say. I don't know about you, but sometimes I'm not sure I actually hear anything. Sometimes I think it's just my desire and not His will. Know what I mean?

I have faith that He is who He says He is. I believe all of His promises and can testify to the change in my life since I began following Jesus. And yet I am sitting right here worrying about paying bills.

Trivial, I know.

Today, during my Bible reading, He gave me a good swift kick in the pants with this verse:

"Nevertheless, when the Son of Man comes, will He really find faith on the earth?"

Jesus said this in Luke 18:8b

And I shuddered thinking about how faithless I am. Let's face it, you either have faith or you don't. It's simple. If you really believe, than you have faith. If you stop believing, I don't think you really ever had faith.

(But we won't get all Calvinist and Armenianist today)

Then I worried and pondered my tiny faith. One would think after all these years that I would be a GIANT of faith. Oh, sure, I can stretch myself nice and tall and make the world think I'm a giant, but the truth is...I am an ant.

A slug.

The greatest of all sinners.

For a mere second I began to lose hope that my faith could or would be anything other than the filthy offering it is.

Then Jesus said this:

"The things which are impossible with men are possible with God." Luke 18:27

And then I realized that once again I am trying to make this whole Christianity thing about me. Well, it's not about me...it's about Him. It's about His sacrifice, His strength, and His will.

He called me. He saved me. He expects faith and passion and commitment. In return, He gives me the faith to believe.

And it's all I can do.

So I wrote out my tithe check and paid the bills. I went to the grocery store. I didn't cancel my hair appointment. I will have faith that Jesus will see to our needs (not necessarily my wants). I will have faith that He can oversee this whole big world without my help. I'll believe that He will prosper the business I'm in.

It's the best I can do.

On This Day in History

2011-04-03T20:01:00.000-07:00

Today is a historic day.

No, it isn't historic (okay, it really is historic) because to day is the day Jesse James was shot in the back by Bob Ford for a mere $10,000. Nor is it exciting because today marks the first Pony Express delivery. Bruno Hauptmann was executed today for the kidnapping and murder of the Lindbergh baby - was he innocent or guilty...hmmm...

But all of that pales in comparison to what we did today.

We mowed the lawn.

Woot!

Our first lawn mowing session.

Trivial, yes I suppose, but one must consider that for the past 15 years I have been mowing and tending the family farm, not my own little patch of green. There is something so simple and so satisfying about caring for your own home.

I wonder if we'll ever get over it.

Then I see the tulips, that I planted right after we moved in, sporting glorious heads of red. I spy the blue bells waving merrily in the cool spring breeze. I glory in the pink blossoms of the plum tree and I realize that I may never, no never, get over being a home owner.

I cannot wait for summer with her BBQ's and outdoor dining.

Tis a historic day I say!

Movin' On

2011-04-01T06:59:00.000-07:00

It's a funny thing, moving on. Usually we do it because we are either forced to by circumstances or we choose a new path and start truckin' down it with zest. Movin' on. Truckin' along. Change is just another speed bump in the journey we call life.

Yesterday I worked my final shift at the gym. I'll admit that it was bitter sweet and there were a couple of gym members who accused me of being a traitor. Ouch. Still others were supportive of my reasons for moving on and encouraged me to shift it into high gear to accomplish all the things I dream of.

I remember being the newb and wondering if I'd ever learn everyones name. The training seemed so intense and overwhelming at times. All that paperwork! All those women! Would I ever figure it out and stop feeling like I didn't fit in?

It's funny to look back and realize that in a few short months I would put into practice what I had learned with ease.

There are moments from the past two years that make me smile and of course those that make me cringe as well. Remember Idiot Hippie Girl? What about Karma Girl? Yeah, good times people, good times.

Today, when the alarm started whispering at 5:00am, I couldn't help but smile. Friday's use to be my early shift. Friday use to mean crawling out of bed at 3:45, eating breakfast at 4:20, and unlocking the gym doors at 5:00.

It was heaven to sleep in.

Today I begin a journey that may very well take me back into business ownership. It will bring changes and probably frustrations. I'm sure I will wonder if I'll ever learn all the new names. There will be new paperwork. New challenges.

Last night a friend told me to go and, "Whip those ladies into shape!"

And I think that's exactly what I'll do.

Lent: Three Weeks and Counting

2011-03-30T12:35:00.000-07:00

Tada!

I've survived three weeks of Lent and haven't wavered on my sacrifice. The funny thing it has actually gotten easier to not obsess over it. In all honesty, those first couple of weeks were not so much fun and while my sacrifice will not change the world, it is changing me.

I've learned that faith is a powerful tool and it makes you stronger.

I've decided that giving something up for God makes you want to stick to your word.

Another interesting thing that is happening is my desire to share my faith with a friend. I'm not a pushy, Bible thumper. If you ask, I'll tell ya what I think, believe, and feel, but I've never been all that great at bringing in the harvest...so to speak.

Oh sure, I've shared my story and told how wonderfully my life, marriage, and family have changed since I became a Christian, but I'm not a town cryer. I'll disagree with you over matters of faith. You know, like if you tell me you believe in Karma (didn't I go to high school with her?) and you ask if I do, I'll tell you nope and smile. If you ask what I believe, watch out, I'll tell you straight up.

It's the opening up the conversation with a friend, where it get's a little sticky. There are words that need to be said, if only I can get them out.

Why am I so afraid?

"Here I Go Again" Performed by Casting Crowns

Father, hear my prayer
I need the perfect words
Words that he will hear
And know they're straight from You
I don't know what to say
I only know it hurts
To see my only friend slowly fade away

So maybe this time I'll speak the words of life
With Your fire in my eyes
But that old familiar fear is tearing at my words
What am I so afraid of?

'Cause here I go again
Talkin 'bout the rain
And mulling over things that won't live past today
And as I dance around the truth
Time is not his friend
This might be my last chance to tell him
That You love Him
But here I go again, here I go again

Lord, You love him so, You gave Your only Son
If he will just believe; he will never die
But how then will he know what he has never heard
Lord he has never seen mirrored in my life

This might be my last chance to tell him
That You love him
This might be my last chance to tell him
That You love him
You love him, You love him

What Am I so afraid
What am I so afraid
What am I so afraid of?
How then will he know
What he has never heard

The Catch-Up

2011-03-28T12:26:00.000-07:00

I am very sad to report that Beloved caught no fish. Not a single one. And he was gone all stinking day!

What?!

Oh well, such is the way these things go. I would like to point out that he could have actually saved money if he'd gone to the grocery store and simply purchase a salmon. Just sayin'.

On Sunday we moved Boy into his very first apartment. While he hasn't lived at home since he was seventeen, he has always lived in a communal atmosphere. This time, he's on his own. It's a little surreal to realize that he has his own place. Man, am I old.

Girl spent yesterday hiking with that guy. You remember, he's the one that her mother turns into Mrs. Bennet from Pride and Prejudice every time his name in mentioned. He's a nice kid. Good family. Great job. Sadly, after spending the day with him yesterday Girl has decided that they are not on the same path. Sure, he's funny...but apparently there is more to life than funny.

Who knew?

This week marks the end of a journey for me. I decided, after much thought and prayer, to leave the gym I currently work at. I'm moving to another location in hopes of learning managerial and owner responsibilities so that one day, God willing, I'll own my own little Curves gym. I'm so scared and so sad to be leaving where I've worked for the past two plus years. I'm going to miss my peeps and the familiarity of it all.

The fun part of this move though is the new challenges that it will bring. The club I'm moving to was a dying club. They hadn't turned a profit in months, perhaps years. The new owners have shown promise and have made great strides in the last four months. I'm excited to bring my expertise and my enthusiasm to this new group of ladies. There is great potential here and a lot of work!

Of course, I'm worried that I've made a poor decision. All the what if's plague my mind. I'm just trying to remember what my long term goals are and push ahead.

Tomorrow I'll be catching up with a blogger friend from years ago. We became friends through a old blogging site (now defunct) and when I was down her way we met up. She's a sweet lady and I'm glad for the opportunity to catch up with her.

Today, however, is my day off. I've got house cleaning to do and phone calls to make. I suppose I best get to it!

Oh, and today is my 600th post.

Gone Fishin'

2011-03-26T05:40:00.000-07:00

He dressed in layers. It's the way it's done I'm told.

This morning, at a time when one is supposed to be sleeping soundly on a Saturday, Beloved packed up extra clothes, snacks, beer, a fishing pole, an extra coat, his father, and the carpet we ripped out of the little green house when we first moved in, and headed to his brothers house an hour and a half away.

They're a goin' fishin'.

Beloved...is NOT usually a fisherman. He'll go once or twice a decade, usually with his brother and it usually has more to do with spending time with Fishing Dude than actually catching any fish (much to Fishing Dude's dismay because he is a real fisherman.)

Beloved was very motivated for this fishing trip though. You see, for the past six months that carpet has been taking up space in the man cave. Fishing Dude, requested we keep the carpet seeing as he could use it in his trailer house.

Trailer...

Anyway, there have been promises that the carpet would be gone on this date or that. All to no avail. So, when Fishing Dude invited Beloved and their father salmon fishing, Beloved leaped at the chance. He loaded that massive mess into the back of the van and nearly danced with glee just thinking about the space the man cave gained.

It's the little things you know.

I'd like to point out that these boys are goin' fishin' in the rain. And the cold. FIL is seventy-six-old and not known for his calm, hanging out, demeanor. Personally, I'd rather shot myself in the foot than go fishing.

I learned some very important lessons about fishing when I was just a wee slip of a girl. My daddy took me and my three brothers fishing. Why? Because there were important lessons to learn. Everyone needs to know how to bait a hook and clean fish. Right?

The rules are simple. You must learn to bait your own hook and clean your own fish. But none of this was explained to me at the beginning of this outdoor adventure. I do think that these rules are dandy, because I do not fish. Ever.

Anyway, on my very first fishing trip, to a stocked pond I should add, I caught a fish...after one of my brothers baited my hook for me. My brothers caught fish too. It was super fun and my brothers baited my hooks and held my pole and helped me if I had any trouble reeling in my minuscule catch. Lest you think that my brothers were saints, it should be noted that they both referred to me as a whiny girl, wimp, sissy and (sigh) a girl.

I remember standing outside our little camping trailer watching Dad demonstrate how to clean the fish. It hadn't actually occurred to me that I was going to be doing the cleaning until he handed me the knife and told me to be careful.

I looked at him.

I looked at the fish.

I looked at my brothers, who were all crazy eyed and jacked up from the kill.

Then I promptly burst into tears. Then I cried and I begged and I dropped my fish in the dirt and cried some more. Eventually, Dad made one of my brothers clean my fish. Being the only girl in a family of boys had it's advantages.

Years later, FIL, MIL, Beloved and I took Boy and Girl fishing. To this day I cannot remember how they coerced me into it. Anyway, both Girl and Boy caught fish. It was fun! Until it came time to clean them. Then Girl cried and begged and dropped her fish in the dirt and cried some more. Then Boy cleaned her fish. It has kind of a poetic beauty to it doesn't it?

My Beloved purchased his fishing tag and loaded up his father. He's off to bond with other men who kills slimy aquatic life. He'll stand in the rain. He'll drink a beer. He'll catch a huge whoppin' salmon and bring it home to his little wifey...who will promptly remind him that she does not, under any circumstances, clean fish.

Ever.

I will make all the appropriate cooing noises when he brings home his catch. I will happily bake that lovely salmon with dill and lemons. I'll even do the dishes.

Just don't ask me to go fishing.

Fishing Dude and Beloved are befuddled by my lack

of enthusiasm over fishing.

Lent: Week Two

2011-03-23T08:54:00.000-07:00

Here we are two weeks into Lent. One very surprising thing has happened: I haven't shared with anyone what I gave up for Lent. Seriously, I do lurve to talk...but I've kept a lid on it and in some instances that's been a challenge too.

Beloved on the other hand spilled the beans. In his defense he didn't realize that I was keeping it a secrety-secret. Truly, it's not a big deal. It's not an earth shattering thing, I just don't want to seem like a martyr or give myself the slightest notion that I can whine about how hard it is to give up X.

Is anyone else like me? Wanting affirmation or pity or crap...Why isn't God's approval enough?

What isn't surprising is that I haven't been as "devout" as I thought I woulda, coulda, shoulda been. My Bible reading was kinda hit and miss last week...okay, it was more miss than hit. My prayer life was okay, but I have found myself slipping back into one bad habit: praying in bed before I go to sleep.

Now, don't judge me! You've done it too! You're all snuggled under the blankets and praying for this or that, thanking God for all that you have, asking to be forgiven because you're a big doof (translate that as chief sinner and all around selfish pig)....when you wake up the next morning.....

I know how to rectify the situation and have implemented a new nightly prayer plan. We'll see how it goes.

Thus far, I think that Lent has been at least a moderate success. I've kept my promise to God and not dabbled in X. I'm more aware of God in my everyday life, or at least I'm realizing that He wants to spend time with me before I start snoring. I am actually reading my Bible...for the most part. And, I'm learning some new things about God and myself.

I'm also starting to envy my Catholic buddies who can celebrate (not sure if that is the right word) Mass every day which I'm certain helps to keep them on track.

On a related side note: we may have found a new church. The jury is still out.

So, the two week Lent wrap up is this: I didn't do as well as I could have, but I didn't faultier on my sacrifice.

And there are still four weeks left.

The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak!

They Grow Up Fast

2011-03-20T17:43:00.000-07:00

I blinked...and they grew up...

Whoa!

Where Can I Find Me Some of Those?

2011-03-17T14:22:00.000-07:00

Back in the day, those by-gone days of my childhood, I remember seeing women with rollers in their hair at the super market. My mother would remind me that when one was out in public, one should always put their best foot forward. Those words have stayed with me throughout my life and were the driving force behind my never leaving the house with out full battle gear: hair and make-up.

Now that I'm in my forties, I've relaxed a bit. I go to the gym without make-up on. I've been known to rush to the store with my hair pulled into a tight bun without a trace of color on my face. It's nice to know that the world does not come crashing down around my ears when someone I know sees me sans Revlon.

But there is a growing trend that is really starting to bug me. It's the wearing of pajamas in public.

Seriously, do these folks simply lack other attire, or have we truly slid this far down the pole of decency?

My mother-in-law, God rest her soul, wouldn't be caught dead in public in a pair of sweatpants. I wonder how she'd feel about Sponge Bob PJ's that are now being fashioned in the frozen food section?

Today, as I came out the grocery store, I passed a woman who had obviously just crawled out of bed. Her hair was sticking up in various places and she was sporting plaid PJ's. Now, maybe she works the night shift and had to run to the market for milk. Maybe she's been ill and need meds. Perhaps she was in the middle of preparing a meal and was missing an ingredient.

Not to mention, it's none of my business what she's doing. Not really. I guess it just makes me kind of sad that our society finds it acceptable to waltz around in clothes that are meant for relaxing or sleeping in. I envy the past when ladies dressed like ladies.

Of course that opens up a totally different can of worms: The Corset!

Run away! Run away!

On second thought... Those PJ wearing folks might just be on to something!

One Week of Lent for a Protestant Girl

2011-03-16T09:52:00.000-07:00

Today marks the one week mark of Lent. You may recall that I decided to jump on the band wagon and see what this whole Lent thing was about. Let me just say, it's been enlightening. Before engaging in this spiritual journey I had to decide what to give up...what sacrifice to make...And I didn't want it to be trivial. I decided on something I knew I would struggle with, but that wasn't so earth shatteringly life changing that I couldn't succeed.

I'm a Lent virgin, cut me some slack.

Since I didn't want to go about with my "Look at poor me...I'm sacrificing here!" face on, I kept my little sacrifice to myself. Okay, I told the family, because trust me, they always sniff out a secret, otherwise, no one knows. I'll tell y'all after Easter and we can laugh about all the struggles I had and what I learned along the way.

The other part of Lent, the focus and mediating part, is coming along. I keep a journal and am recording my daily readings and thoughts. It will be interesting to go back and see the entire puzzle come together when these forty days are up.

My prayer life is stronger. Of course, there is so much to pray for isn't there?

Japan....

A girlfriends struggles...

Boy's future...

Girl's future...

And so much more. It's nice to realize that I'm having more conversations with God and not just quick little, "Hey, how ya doin? Could you take care of this for me?" kind of prayers.

I'd like to say that my attitude is better and I suppose in some ways it is. I feel happier, but I'm still sarcastic. I'm still snotty. I'm still...me...

I am only perfect in my imperfection.

As I begin week two of Lent I admit that I am startled by how many more days there are until Easter. Part of me thinks I'm a bozo for attempting this. That side of me tempts and teases me. Then I think how could I possibly go back on my sacrifice? I mean, it's not like I promised just anyone, I promised the Lord God Almighty!

Lent = Guilt?

Is it guilt that keeps me on this righteous path? Or is there something more? Could it be that I desire to truly give something to God, even though it is little and pathetic?

Lent = Devotion

Time will tell. For now I am staying the course and trying not to make excuses or allow loop holes for myself to fall through. However, I admit that I am still eating meat on Fridays...but I'm not Catholic so I'm not sure it matters.

One thing is for certain, during this last week I have been reminded of how great God's love is for people and that is a great thing to know.

Simple Folk

2011-03-14T10:39:00.000-07:00

Beloved received a rather hefty bonus from his employer. He knew it was coming, although he was unsure of what the amount would be. He started making mental lists of what he planned to do with the money. The last chunk of cash that came our way was spent on my Wii, so I told him to get or do whatever he wanted.

He schemed and read and planned. When the bonus arrived he narrowed down his choices and decided on several tools that's he's been needing since we moved into the little green house on the corner. He also announced that he was taking me out to dinner.

Someplace nice...

Now, I'm a simple girl. I like to get dressed up like any girl, but basically I'm a cheap date. Or maybe I'm just frugal. I don't know. All I know is that I've never felt that a person had to spend a lot of money to have a good time.

I told Beloved that the money was his and he didn't need to take me out. He disagreed. I told him we could go down the street to our favorite Mexican place and I'd be perfectly happy. Again, he disagreed. He spent the better half of one evening reading restaurant reviews before making his selection. Reservations were made for Saturday night, downtown Portland.

I hate Portland. I hate the traffic and the parking and the weirdos, but what's a girl to do when her guy announces he's taking her out on the town? She gets all gussied up, dusts off her heels, and wears perfume, that's what!

We didn't have much trouble finding parking and walked only a couple of blocks to the fancy restaurant. The doorman opened the door for us and bid us a good evening.

Once we were seated and our menus opened, the reality of the situation washed over us.

Ala cart

Fifty dollar steaks

A bottle of wine for several hundred dollars

I looked at Beloved. He looked at me. I suggested we have a drink and an appetizer and move on. He smirked that as long as we were there we might as well stay. I looked around at the other diners and noted that they looked like regular folk. In fact, one dude was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Others had brought their children...their children(!) to this fancy pants joint.

We settled on our meal, our server was so kind, I'm sure she could read the sticker shock on both our faces. I ordered a pomegranate martini, a rare treat. We both ordered the steak and shrimp. I joked to Beloved that the steak would be the size of my fist (which is fine since that's a serving size anyway). My asparagus and palm heart salad was amazing while Beloved's seafood gumbo was dreamy.

Our main course arrived and as predicted the steak was tiny...but so amazing. I have never had a steak that melted like butter in my mouth. We ate slow and savored each bite.

Throughout our dinner we kept laughing about the cost. Beloved pointed out that when it comes right down to it, our meal was still only meat and potatoes. I looked around the room and noted that each time a meal was served, regardless of the size of the table, that there was a waiter to serve each dish (five diners - five waiters). Empty dishes were quickly and quietly whisked away and water glasses were never drained below half full.

A well groomed man appeared at out table and asked how our meal was. When Beloved replied that it was very good, the manager intoned, "As it always should be," before he nodded and moved on. We looked at each other and blinked.

Holy cow are we out of our league or what?

I felt rather guilty about the extravagance of it all.

We paid our tab and walked out into the dampness of the evening. I thought about the people in that fancy restaurant. I replayed the conversations I overheard. I considered the life that most of those people live.

And I realized that there is a huge gap between the haves and the have nots. I noted that for some, money is taken for granted and that there may have been folks in that restaurant who dine there regularly. I thought about the children I'd seen devouring fifty dollar steaks with string potatoes (really? they were french fries folks!). I recalled the jewelry of the woman who sat next to me.

Beloved and I agreed that, while the meal was wonderful and we've got a great story to share, that type of dining isn't for us. We discussed how the money we spent on that meal could have been spread around and used to help others.

Our evening out was an adventure, that is for certain, but I hope we never lose sight of the fact that we are simple folk with simple desires.

And considering we are blue collar people, I don't think we'll have to worry about it any time soon!

A Tale of Two Deaths

2011-03-13T22:30:00.000-07:00

Last week I heard the tragic news of a suicide. The only connection I had to this young man is that his mother is a member of the gym I work at.

Suicide is so...disturbing and unsettling. It make me feel so empty.

How, or more importantly why, does a person commit that final act? And those left behind, how do they cope with the loss and their utter abandonment?

I feel so very sad for that young man and for his family who must ask all the what if questions. If only...

Hopeless. That's what that young man must have felt.

Alone.

Abandoned.

Anything would be better than this.

So shockingly, horrifyingly tragic.

That very same day, as I was sitting in traffic, I heard of another suicide attempt. Only this time, the young man did not follow through with the plan to end his life.

He stood on the Golden Gate Bridge early in the afternoon. He was alone. He was suffering. The only thought in his mind was to end all the pain and emptiness. But as he stood there on the bridge another voice spoke through the fog of his depression. It reminded him how greatly loved he was. It spoke of mercy and strength. It spoke of peace.

No more striving.

No more seeking.

Only acceptance. Love. Forgiveness. Understanding.

And that young man got back in his car and sought out the mental care he needed. That young man remembered the God who loved him and who had promised not to forsake him. That young man lives today.

But I titled this blog post A Tale of Two Deaths you say. Of course I did, but where is the second death? Christ died. He died for the lost and the weary. He died for the wayward soul and the pious judge. He died so that people could live.

Sometimes we forget or ignore the cost of the cross. We'd rather not think about the brutality, the suffering, the horror of it. It's so easy to dismiss.

But every time I think about the pain of this world I cannot help but remember the Cross with it's agony and ultimate cost. And when I hear of the tragic death of a young man or the devastation of an earthquake I remember that God is always here.

I know you may disagree and you may shake your head and wonder where God is when these things happen? He is here and I for one am thankful that I have my faith. It's what sees me through the dark days and it's what gives me hope for a future.

I hope you'll pray for that young man's family and for all those who are battling losses. I hope you'll remember that when you hit rock bottom you are not alone. God is always there.

Lent: A Protestant Perspective

2011-03-09T10:20:00.000-08:00

From my understanding, Lent is the period of the liturgical year leading up to Easter. It is a time of sacrifice for Jesus Christ. The purpose of Lent it to prepare the believer for Holy Week, which ends with the celebration of the Resurrection of Christ at Easter.

Through prayer, self examination, sacrifice, and repentance the believer gains a better understanding of who they are and who Christ is in them.

I've always been intrigued by Lent. I have friends, both Catholic and Protestant who participate each year. Because I feel it's a personal journey I have never asked all those in-depth questions that stir round my mind about Lent.

Did you actually stick to your sacrifice?
Did you pray more?
Did you read more?
What did you come away with?

This year, beginning today actually, I've decided to take part in the reflection and tradition of Lent.

Is this blasphemy? I mean, I'm not Catholic...

Because, as I mentioned above, I feel that this must be a personal journey, I won't be sharing what my sacrifice is. Instead, I hope to share with you what I am learning along the way. I must admit that I am excited about the focus my life will take for the next forty days.

It does seem that this is a time of change in our home. We may have found a new church, there are employment changes coming and spring is nearly upon us. I feel a sense of anticipation, like a small child does at Christmas time, to see what things are revealed to me.

I have decided to focus on Faith and lay aside my study of Purpose. Here is today's verse from Psalm 143: 5-9:

I remember the days of old; I meditate on all Your works; I muse on the work of Your hands. I spread out my hands to You; my soul longs for You like a thirsty land. Answer me speedily, O Lord; my spirit fails! Do not hide Your face from me, lest I be like those who go down into the pit. Cause me to hear Your lovingkindness in the morning, for in You do I trust; cause me to know the way in which I should walk, for I left up my soul to you. Deliver me, O Lord, from my enemies; in You I take shelter.

We have a choice each day: we can be pulled down by the worries and cares of this world -or- we can focus on the love of God and His plan for our lives.

Fat Tuesday

2011-03-08T15:32:00.000-08:00

In celebration of Fat Tuesday, I indulged in a carmel frap from Starbucks.

Do I really want to know how much FAT is in one of these?

No, I do not.

I am not Catholic, but am pondering Lent and what it means.

Catholic buddies, got any thoughts on this one?

I Think I'll Adopt Her

2011-03-05T17:38:00.000-08:00

When I first met her, frankly, I never thought she'd last as an employee at the gym. She was too cute, too young, and she came off a bit snooty.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Little Miss AG is a doll! I love everything about her. She is sharp as a tack, witty, and so fun to work with. She fell in love with our gym girls and in return they adored her.

A few months ago she asked me if I thought she should apply for a job in her field, even though she lacked experience. She has a degree and was working at our little gym to make ends meet. Little Miss AG was too smart to toil away her days and her brains at the gym. Of course, I encouraged her to apply even if the job seemed a little out of her league. The mother hen in me rejoiced when she was offered a part time position with a great company.

I suppose we all knew that sooner or later her new boss would see what the rest of saw: AG is a rock star!

Today was AG's last day at the gym. I'm so happy for her and so sad to see her go. I'll miss her curly hair. I'll miss her funny laugh. I'll miss how she rolls her eyes when someone is ridiculous and the way those same eyes dance with mischief when she's joking with someone.

I'm gonna miss this kid.

I asked if we could keep in touch and if we could be Facebook friends. AG looked at me with a shocked expression and said, "Aren't we friends?" Man, I love this kid! I remember the first shift she worked after New Years, when she burst into the gym to show me her new engagement ring. She told me how excited she was to get to work so that she could share her big news.

I swear it's like she's one my kids.

Goodbye pretty little girl. You will be dearly missed.

She Ran

2011-03-03T11:45:00.000-08:00

When I started Jr. High school, all elbows and knees, I was befriended by a blond haired girl with large round glasses and hardware (hardware referring to her braces and headgear). We were quite a pair we too. Our friendship would span nearly twenty years as we shared life experiences that would mold who we became.

I haven't spoken to this person in ten years or more. Occasionally, I would received a Christmas card from her. Once, I saw her mother in Costco. It wasn't until Facebook that I caught up with her in greater detail.

Funny how things change.

I suppose the reason this woman has come to mind is because of a new book out on motherhood. I refuse to add the title of the book, because I do not want to give this author any press. I loath what she wrote about. It's the same issue that caused a huge rift between my friend from Jr. High and I.

My friend left her child.

It's such a simple statement. Did she leave him in the car? At the mall? At the daycare?

No.

My friend left her second husband, loaded up her two children from her previous relationships, and drove away as her eight-year-old son chased her car down the street.

I know I am sitting in judgment here.

When my friend described her reason for leaving, her husband accused her of having an affair with the man who is now her third husband (hmmm....) she said she could not stand the accusations and thus fled. Husband number two and told her she could take "her two children with her," but that his son would remain with him.

And so she left.

And that little boy chased her car.

In my minds eye, I play out that scene and I wonder, to this day, how she could tell me this story without a hint of remorse or sadness. I simply do not understand it and I don't think I ever will. That little boy is in his twenties now. I wonder about him.

There are no pictures of him on her Facebook page and there is no mention that she has a third child. She has never spoken of him.

The press is all aflutter about this new book on motherhood...the one where the mother decided she didn't want to be a mother any more and walked away. Clean. She left like a man will leave, without looking back. In her own words, she states that she put herself first, that she felt she had lost who she was when she became a mother.

And I cannot argue that.

Becoming a parent was so earth shattering that sometimes I wonder how Beloved and I managed to stay married and not kill each other ... or those two delightful rug rats we were blessed with.

It changed us. It forced us to grow up and deal with life and each other while putting someone else's life first. There were times when I thought my brain had surely turned to oatmeal. I remember lying on my bed and wondering, "Is this all there is?"

Diapers

Crying

Cleaning

Whining

Laundry

Looking back now, as the mother of two adults, I know the answer to that question. No, that wasn't all there was. Life is a journey, not a race. Children grow...slowly and quickly. They change. They become who they were meant to be and a parent has the joy (and sometimes the sorrow) of watching that child trip and slip into adulthood.

The rewards come later.

I did not lose who I was when I became a mother, I simply grew into who I needed to be. Now that my babies are not longer babies, Beloved and I are becoming that "couple" that we once were. We are enjoying the freedom of adulthood without children. It's grand.

My friend from Jr. High is still married to her third husband and she seems to be in a good place. We do not discuss the past or her other child. I've never asked if she has regrets. It's truly none of my business. I hope she has found what she was looking for.

I cannot decide on a way to end this blog post. It's so judgmental and mean spirited. I've got my soap box out and I want to lecture people on the ways of good parenting. I'm feeling so self-righteous.

Sigh.

Perhaps I should just end by saying that the best thing I have ever done and will ever do was to become the parent of two fine adults.

In Search Of

2011-03-01T13:17:00.000-08:00

Over the last several months Beloved and I have been church hunting.

It's an arduous task and not one for the faint or weary.

We've visited local church after local church. One managed to actually open the Bible, kudos for them. Another had a rockin' concert feel to it. Still another was friendly, but not soul stirring.

Me thinks we are asking too much.

A house of faith should be just that, a home. It's a place where everyone knows your name. They see your warts and love you anyway. In my view, it's also a place where they feed the poor, love the lost, nurture the ill and hold fast to who Jesus is.

I don't want to squabble about music - It's too slow. It's too fast. There aren't any hymns. It lacks contemporary worship.

I don't want to be the youngest member.

I don't want to be the oldest member.

I want a college group for Girl.

I want a group of women who aren't catty, clicky, snobby, or self absorbed.

And I think I know just where to find this perfect church...
.
.
.
.
.
.
I think it's called heaven.

Sigh.

Is the speed adjustable on an LX-5 ?

2011-02-24T22:04:00.000-08:00

My Beloved.

He's a peach.

As I write this he is driving in what may be icy conditions to pick Girl up from work. He is doing this because his wife is a cry baby and hates to drive in the snow and ice. Beloved well remembers last years "snow incident" when I got stuck on a hill and had to be helped by a very attractive fireman.

Side note: Is it just me or are all firemen, regardless of age, simply hot? I'm just asking...

Anyway, last night my Beloved had a dream. In this night time fantasy I was singing his praises. He related to me that I couldn't stop saying enough nice things about all the ~~garbage~~ vintage stereo that he had found at the Goodwill. He had purchased receivers and amplifiers, turntables and vinyl in mint condition and had paid mere pennies for his treasures.

Never once in the dream did I tell him that he is nickle and diming me to death. I never sighed and retorted that he had no where to put these "treasures".

Why, I didn't even mention the fact that he already has three, yes three, complete vintage systems.

I laughed as he related his story, because, well, it was just a dream.

See, our home is filled with LX this and 450 that. Yes, I have rolled my eyes and said, "Seriously? Where on earth are you going to put that!?

One of the beautiful things about this little green house is that if you stand just outside the doorway of our bedroom, you cannot see all of Beloved's stereo junk. If you enter the family room, you will note that half of it houses our piano, computer desk, and my craft supplies (all neatly tucked away in a lovely standing cabinet).

Lurking on the other side of the room are three sets of speakers, two cassette decks, an amp, a tuner, and a turntable. There may very well be a CD player, but I'm not certain. There are stacks and stacks of albums. There are cassettes. There is the mother of all surge protectors.

It is the man's side of the room.

Please do not get me started on the speakers and stereo system that is set up in the garage.

And don't make me mention that he owns somewhere between six and eight hundred albums.

Our daughter, the ever lovely Girl, once asked me why I put up with all this stereo junk. I gave her what I believe to be the best piece of marital advice I'll ever give:

Your father doesn't hang out at the bar, he doesn't chase women, he doesn't do drugs. His unhealthy stereo addiction, while annoying, isn't destructive. This, I can live with.

When I consider the meaning of Beloved's dream I can only come to one conclusion: He has purchased something and he's afraid to tell me.

That's got to be it!

It's a Wii Thing

2011-02-22T22:15:00.000-08:00

My Beloved purchased something for me. It's kinda silly. It really is. It's not something a woman of ahem my age, would/should want.

And want it I did!

I was saving for it. That's how bad I wanted it. I read reviews. I talked about it and talked about it and talked about it.

Then reality set in and I used some of my savings for gas money (remember I have been off work for nearly a month now). Then, I told Beloved that we should use the rest of the money to pay the guy who was trimming some trees for us. He protested, saying that was my money I'd been saving.

But we're adults and sometimes adults have to do the responsible thing. It's my excuse all the time. I find it difficult to purchase silly things for myself when there are so many other things (think college textbooks) that need to be bought.

This little habit or martyrdom of mine drives my Beloved crazy, but he's kind of use to it after twenty-three years of marriage.

So, I put my dreams and wishes on the back burner and pushed on through the day, promising myself that one day I would buy this silly thing that had captured my attention.

That was until last week when Beloved came home with a Wii.

I know, I know, I know! I'm forty-three years old. What on earth do I need a Wii for? Truth be told, I wanted it for the Wii Fit program to get both of us moving. I wanted it to play with the kiddies. I just plain wanted it!

Beloved knew it and he used money he wasn't expecting to purchase it for me. He's the best! After making all the appropriate noises about how he shouldn't have and how we can't afford it, I threw my arms around him and thanked him.

I just want to say, I love my Wii! I love the workout that I programed even though it is killing me and I have yet to actually complete the entire thing. I'm still recovering, remember?

I love playing games with my family.

Just between us, I cannot wait to buy Zelda! HA!!!

Yes, it's true, Annie is a gamer. Annie loves her a video game. When the children were just little sprouts I would stay up late playing Zelda or Mario. Sometimes Annie was crabby in the morning because she stayed up too late playing video games. Sad, yes, but true.

When I asked my bestest buddy, The Writer, about those years of playing video games when our kids were little, she justified our actions by saying, "It was the one thing that kept us from blowing our brains out."

She may be right.

Regardless, after years of not allowing video games in the house, I quit cold turkey when Boy was about five, I am back in the game.

And it feels so good.

I know it's silly, but I love my Wii!

Shudder

2011-02-18T06:16:00.000-08:00

I had to do something hard yesterday. It was a difficult situation and I wasn't sure how to approach it. I knew the receiver of the information I had to relay was going to feel sucker punched, but I was unsure of how to proceed. I didn't want to mess with this individual. I didn't want to leave them high and dry. Yet, the news had to be shared and I think the direct approach is always best...even if it's going to hurt or anger someone.

As I drove to the meeting location, I was just plain sick to my stomach. I didn't want to say what needed to be said, but I did. You know, sometimes there is no middle ground.

I thought about waiting and realized that if I waited another couple of weeks, it would still be a slap in the face.

Sometimes there is just no way out but up and over that wall.

I've had time to think about the conversation. I suppose it went as well as could be expected under the circumstances. The receiver was both angry and hurt, as I knew they would be. I had no words to express how I feel about this news. I am both excited and sad.

Excited, because it means something new for me.

Sad, because it means there are changes afoot...and really, who likes change?

So, here I sit, early in the morning, bouncing the next conversation around in my head. I know this isn't over and there will be more words to say. I'm dreading those.

They make me shudder.

Smoochie!

2011-02-14T11:29:00.000-08:00

My Boy has returned home to the little green house on the corner. He brought with him wonderful silk scarves from India, a beautiful hand-carved shell for his father, and an ornate journal for his sister.

He also brought back an intestinal bug and a mighty nasty cold.

It's good to have him home, sickness aside. Being the Mommy that I am, I have scheduled a doctor's appointment for later this afternoon for him. It's good to be a mommy.

Right now, he's sleeping on the sofa.

Girl is at school and just aced her mid-term math exam. That's my girl! I hid a little hand made Valentine in her lunch. Of all the family that live in this house, she's the one who will most appreciate a Valentine card.

I phoned Beloved after dropping Girl at school and told him Happy Valentines Day. We had both forgotten early this morning. We aren't really into the big Valentine thing. It's not that big of a deal. I know he loves me because:

1. He installed a new kitchen faucet over the weekend and didn't lose his temper once (those little home chores are such a joy, aren't they?)

2. He goes to work every single day.

3. He makes me go lay down when I look tired.

4. He listens to me prattle on about everything.

5. He purchased life insurance so if he bites it, I'm still taken care of.

6. He makes me laugh.

7. He tells me I'm beautiful (esp when I am not).

8. He takes out the trash.

9. He told me, after my recent surgery, that he doesn't want my job (meaning taking care of all the little things).

10. He let's me put my freezing feet on his legs and he never complains.

All of this is worth far more than some stupid card from Hallmark. These things won't fade like roses, or add inches to my waistline like chocolate. These are real, tangible acts of love.

So, Beloved, smoochies to you big guy.

Treasures

2011-02-12T15:06:00.000-08:00

With the help of my Beloved and my Girl I've been able to rearrange some things and unpack a few boxes that had been eagerly awaiting a space of their own since we moved into the little, green house on the corner. It feels good to be truly settling in. There are so many little things I haven't been able to accomplish because I'm working, working, working.

Today, Beloved and Girl moved a tall piece of furniture from the garage to the family room, where I was able to place all my scrapbooking supplies, stamps, card making materials, and other keepsakes. It thrilled my heart to finally have a space for all these items. I am preparing, slowly and carefully (because Beloved glares at me if I don't take it easy), for the arrival of Boy.

BOY!

His room is nearly ready and I am excited to hear all about India. I am thankful that I am off work and will have extra time to spend with him while he is home. We know our boy, and his feet seldom stay home for long. I will treasure these moments.

While unpacking a box, that said Christmas dishes on the outside, I found more of my Omi's wedding dishes. They are dishes that she brought from Germany when she, my American GI grandfather (Opa), and mother moved to the US after the war. I ended up with these lovely, fragile dishes purely by chance, but I treasure them and I like to think that Omi likes me having them too.

Because I have a lot of downtime this month, I've been able to spend some time with folks I seldom see. It was wonderful to catch up with them, even though they both gave me heck for not telling them about the surgery. I assured them that I was fine and I know how busy they both are (they each have seven children) and I didn't want them to bother with me. They, in turn, chided me for keeping secrets. It's great to be loved, isn't it?

Tomorrow we are visiting yet another church. The hunt is on for a church home. We are hoping to find one that our family will fit in with and where the Cross is treasured and valued for what it truly is.

I suppose I could call this a month of treasure hunting because I feel like I am rediscovering my purpose. These weeks of recovery, and yes I am recovering, are certainly helping me to focus on what is and is not important.

That's one more thing to treasure!

Keeping the Home Fires Burning

2011-02-09T13:19:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow will be two weeks since my surgery. I. Feel. Great.

I feel so good that I keep imagining that I am, you know, well. My mind keeps saying that I'm back to my former self and thus should be able to do all the things I was doing pre-surgery.

My body, on the other hand, reminds me that I am NOT back to normal. Better...yes, but not 100%. Maybe 70%, but not 100.

For instances, today I decided to vacuum the family room. You may recall that we have a dog. He's a shepherd-chow mix and all that long, blond hair is everywhere. It's a constant battle to keep the hairballs and dust bunnies under control.

I don't feel that it is fair to ask Beloved to vacuum after he's had a long hard day. I feel the same way about asking Girl. That pretty much leaves me, the cat, and the dog. Since neither one of them seem to care about their mess, that leaves me.

It didn't go as well as I had hoped, but I did managed to vacuum a portion of the room that showed the most evidence of dog. It looks better and I am pleased.

There is one other discovery that I have made in the last week or so. I love being home. Love. It.

On Monday I prepared a pork loin with a white wine, onion and apple reduction. Delicious! Yesterday I made a meatloaf with sweet potatoes and green beans. Today, hearty black bean soup. All of them were low fat, low carb and incredibly tasty!

Girl said to me last night that she loves having me home. She said I'm not so stressed out or tired...and I cook!

I think she just likes that the house is super clean and she didn't have to do it. Ha!

I love my job. I do, but I have truly missed being home and taking care of my family. I love being here when Beloved gets home and providing a peaceful, comfortable meal to unwind to.

I didn't realize it, but I truly have missed being the keeper of my home.

Falling Down

2011-02-06T07:13:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a lovely day and I felt so good. Maybe too good?

Beloved and I puttered around the house, completing little tasks in between his telling me to, "Go lay down!"

It felt good to be getting some little things done; folding laundry, clearing out some old clothes, sweeping the floor, cleaning the kitchen. My list was long and I was pretty sure if I paced myself I could get a lot done. It was while I was cleaning the kitchen that I heard something odd.

It sounded like running water.

Hmm...must be the washing machine draining...

No, it sounds like falling water.

One look into the garage, where the washing machine lives, showed me the very wet and wild truth. The hose that drains the water from the machine had come undone from it's housing and was spewing laundry water all over the garage.

I am happy to report that our wet/dry vac works like a charm. Of course, Beloved remembered we actually had a wet/dry vac after we had mopped up a good deal of the water with towels, but that's okay.

And everything would have been just dandy...if I hadn't been trying to "help" just a little more.

I tripped over the hose. I tripped over it when Beloved wasn't in the garage watching my every move and telling me, "You better take it easy!"

I tripped, but caught myself and didn't face plant onto the cement.

That's good, right?

Instead, I a jarred my body around and became aware of the fact that I had surgery just ten days ago. Oh, yeah...

I wasn't going to tell Beloved, but I had to admit to him what happened. He frowned at me and sent me to bed with the paper and a drink.

So much for the rest of my to-do list.

Last night, as Girl and I snuggled under a blanket while sitting on the couch, she looked at me and said, "You're weak!" I replied that I knew that, thanks a lot. She was surprised at how quickly I had lost the strength I use to have. I told her about the near face plant in the garage and she shook her head. She told me that if I ever get a serious illness it won't be the illness that kills me, but the inability to clean the house.

That is not true!

Okay, it might be a little true...

Upper Cut

2011-02-04T13:32:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I drove.

I drove Girl to school.

I drove to my doctors appointment.

I drove home.

I drove over to the college and picked Girl up.

Then I let Beloved drive when we went to have our taxes completed.

And then I hurt all over and ran a temperature.

It was great to drive...but the aftermath of all that driving and walking and waiting and rushing was an upper cut to the jaw and left me weary and worn out.

However, the doctor had all nice things to say about my progress. She asked me how I felt the surgery went. Really? Because, just between you and I, I have no idea what happened after they gave me Valium. Not only am I a cheap drink date, but apparently I am a cheap drug date too.

I asked how she thought things went and she thoughts things went great! Why, she even had pictures to show me.

Pictures of me innards.

It was totally gross.

But it did give me insight to what was going on inside and why things were happening the way they were. Doctor also found out some other things that were wrong, but was happy to report that all the pathology reports came back clear. It seems I got a two for one because they removed a foreign entity to boot. She said, "I figured since we were in there, we might as well."

Ain't that swell.

Of course now I am left with full color pictures of my insides. I've decide to put them with the cd-rom of my previous mammogram. You know, just for a keep sake. Or a weird party conversation piece.

Later that afternoon we visited the tax gal. Let me just say that I am not a fan of the tax man. I think he takes too much of me money and blows it on stupid crap...like welfare...but that's another rant for another time.

My Beloved is making great money these days. All those years in the trenches are paying off. I asked for more hours after we moved into the little green house on the corner and also received a raise. We made more money this year than we have ever made.

And the state of Oregon, once again, is demanding more of it.

Beloved isn't stoopid and since we ended up paying those idiots last year, he adjusted his withholding early in the year to compensate for the income that he is now making. It made a difference so that we only owe the state a couple hundred instead of several hundred.

Me likey.

Our tax gal is a hoot! But she grew very serious and pointed out that we a stones throw away from the next tax bracket and that it will KILL us next year.

Me no likey.

That was a left hook to the kidneys baby.

So, now we need to make some decisions. Beloved will make more money in the coming year. He's already been warned that it's looking like mandatory OT for several months. OT tends to make him crabby. The one cure for the a tired, crabby Beloved is the little wifey who takes care of him and all the little details around the home. I'm a most excellent wife, just ask him. He likes to be babied. Show me a man who doesn't.

We need to make some decisions about money and time and who does what when.

I see a long talk in our future.

Just sayin'.

And now, it's off to bed. I was a bad girl all day yesterday with running around.

Missing Links

2011-02-02T14:13:00.000-08:00

Yeah, so I pulled yesterday's post. After some of the drugs wore off I felt I was a little harsh on some of my courtship friends. One specifically.

While I do feel that my generation may have made the next generation of spouse hunting more difficult, it really isn't for me to say who is right or wrong. Each family must decide for themselves. Just be careful crossing those lines. It's a slippery slope into legalism.

That being said, let us move on.

It's day seven since my surgery. Sometimes I feel like a million bucks. Then I wash the dishes or some other little chore and feel lousy. I'm really not good at waiting. I'm not a good waiter. Just sayin'.

Tomorrow is doctor day. I'm hoping she'll shed some light on my nausea issue. It's getting old. On the up side, I'm just a few pounds away from the fifty pounds lost mark. On the downside, I'm not doing anything and my muscles feel like noodles. And I'm so scared about my first workout...not that it will be any time soon, but I'm so weak and I cannot even imagine how hard it's going to be.

One thought that is giving me great joy is the return of my Boy. India has been a great experience for him and I wonder how it has changed him. Even more, I wonder how he'll find a job and get on with his life now that this portion of his training is over. He's got an internship lined up with his church, school to finish, he needs a car and of course the job to pay for all that. I know that God has a plan, but I wish I knew what it was. I'm just nosy that way.

Being here alone so much has given me time to think about many things. It's been good to reflect on these subjects and consider the gravity of each. Some things seem to weighty while others make me laugh when I consider how important I felt they were. Why do I do that? Make mountains out of mole hills? Why do you?

I'm reading a book by John Fischer and it's so good and so challenging. Not to mention it's the first book I've actually had time to read in nearly a year. That makes me so sad. I have always been such an avid reader and writer, but over the year time has eaten up by other, more pressing issues. I've lost the mojo and my creative side has been slumbering for months.

In the coming days, Lord willing, I'll start working on Girls graduation book. I finished Boys the week after he graduated and here it is nearly spring and Girl graduated last year! I'm a bad, busy mom.

But now it's time to lay back down and rest. My body fails to follow where my mind would lead.

Day Five

2011-01-31T11:08:00.000-08:00

All is silent in the little green house on the corner, save for the rumble of the washing machine in the garage. Beloved is off to work and Girl has left for school. It's just the dog, the cat, and I.

All is well.

My pain is so very limited to certain movements, such as getting out of bed, that one would hardly believe I've had surgery. I have scars to prove it though and a weak and tired body that refuses to do more than walk a few laps around the kitchen. I'm hoping that Beloved will take me for a short walk outside when he returns this afternoon.

Of course, I'll have to do something with my Albert Einstein hair first. Which will require more strength than I believe I possess at the moment.

There are so many things I would like to do, such as sweeping the floors or cleaning the bathroom. Alas, simply making breakfast wore me out today.

Perhaps I'll simply watch a movie and snooze.

That sounds like a better idea.

Day Three

2011-01-29T18:26:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling surprisingly well...all things considered.

The doctor's told my Girl and my Beloved that things were tricky, but successful. The doctors never visited me again so I have no idea what that means. Instead, they sent me home with strong narcotics that made me woozy and dizzy and I started to hate them.

I've stopped taking them.

I feel better.

My record for being out of bed: one hour

I love my bed.

I'm going back there now.

Thanks for your prayers. It's kinda cool to know that folks I've never met have prayed for me from all over the world. Kinda makes me wanna throw a party for them.

In a few weeks, that is.

Night all.

Day One

2011-01-27T05:20:00.000-08:00

Today is the day.

I am calm.

I am ready.

I am so dang hungry I could eat my dog.

Okay, maybe not my dog....maybe a horse....

I lost four pounds overnight and let me just say I look super skinny. Well, something good had to come of all this :)

Keep praying, oh faithful ones!

I'll catch you on the flip side.

Randomness

2011-01-26T14:13:00.000-08:00

It's the day before the day.

I'm not allowed to eat today.

I've cleaned the house, done the laundry, made meatballs, made a pot roast....yeah, why am I cooking when I can't eat any of it?

I have no clue.

I downloaded new music to my ipod. It couldn't be a more random mix of songs.

Santana, Train, Kenny Chesney, Blake Shelton, Jason Aldean, and Bruno Mars,

Red jello tastes like heaven when you are on a liquid diet.

I spent two hours at the salon yesterday. Let's just say I will look smashing as they wheel me into surgery.

Weird, I know.

My cat snores. So does my dog. As does my Beloved.

My Girl road public transportation for the first time all by her lonesome today. She survived and so did her overprotective mother.

Essh.

It's a beautiful, sunny day at the end of January. That's random.

I did a little shopping therapy yesterday. Because I needed to.

And I'm feeling a sense of peace. It's got to be a God thing because I wanted to throw up all day yesterday.

I also gave those vampires more blood yesterday. Only, the "professional" who drew the samples left me with an aching arm. That has never happened before. Me no likey.

They wanted to run a pregnancy test as well.

Sent me into a fit of hysterics. Seriously, it would take an act of God for that to happen and since it ain't happened in eighteen years, I'm pretty dang certain it ain't a problem.

This picture makes me smile.

That is all. Unless I think of or do something random later.

It's All About Me

2011-01-24T16:14:00.000-08:00

I am a walking, talking, ball of anxiety.

I just hate that.

It makes it difficult to listen to other people and assess their needs, wants, desires. I suppose it's because right now, it's all about me.

Yeah, cause I'm all THAT and more. Snicker.

I knew this week would be bad, but I hadn't expected the true level of anticipation. I was unprepared.

However, the house is sparkling clean, save the oven where the meatballs EXPLODED in a roar of grease and flames.

Seriously. Real, live flames....

And lots of smoke.

Which reminded everyone in the household about the time I "hid" candles in the oven. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.

Anyway, I just want to...punch something...or sleep...or eat something. Yeah, that whole "eating" thing, sooo trying to keep that monster at bay. I've hit the forty pounds gone mark and I don't want to add any back. I'm proud of myself and the fact that I now weigh what I've lied about for all these years on my drivers license. Kudos to me.

But I'm anxious.

I've only got another day at work, which is great because the handful of girls that I've told about my upcoming adventure are just about to make my cry. One of them brought me a gift for my recovery. Another brought me a card. A third just stood there blinking at me and hugged me tight.

gulp.

It's not cancer people, I promise! At least we are pretty dang certain it's not cancer. 99.8% sure. No cancer.

It's all good.

Except that I keep thinking about my mother and how if I were to die I wouldn't get the last word.

GAH! I have to have the last word! I want to tell her so many not so nice things. Isn't that dreadful? I told Beloved how I've been mulling over the litany of complaints against that woman who gave birth to me and he said, "Let it go."

And he's right.

But I still want to have the last word, because I am small and petty that way. And then I wonder if she'd even be sad that I was dead. And THEN I realized that our entire past would still be my fault and she'd be able to lie about everything without my being here....OH MY WORD!

See? It's soo bad. Must.Let.It.Go.

Of course there are other things to consider. Worrying about Girl getting to school on time. Worrying about Beloved eating good, healthy meals and having clean jeans for work. Worrying about being back to my old self by the time Boy arrives home from India.

It's exhausting.

And it's stupid.

But, I don't want to talk about it.

Except in my head, where it's all about me anyway.

Three Weeks

2011-01-19T10:51:00.000-08:00

Sunday it will be three weeks.

Three weeks of pondering.

Three weeks of wondering.

Three weeks of second guessing herself.

On Sunday it will be three weeks since she walked into the bedroom and found him.

It was the second marriage for each them. She was never the darling girl, but more of a power-house, a force of nature. He was the veteran soldier, the gardener, the quiet man. Together, they were an odd couple, with a deep affection of one another.

They moved to town when the labors of the farm became too much for him. She told me the move was supposed to keep him from over doing the garden, but he still toiled and tilled the land each spring. The bounty of vegetables not only graced their own table, but those of their children, friends, and the local food bank. He was known for his green thumb and many families in need benefited from his talent and her generosity.

Saturday night they had stayed out late, having dinner with her daughter's family. He had a couple of drinks, something that she felt was odd, but since she never drank and she always drove, she didn't give it a second thought. As usual, she was up early Sunday morning. She made the coffee. Read the paper.

She glanced at the clock and marveled that he was sleeping so late.

An hour passed.

Then two.

She has never been known for her patience and finally in her brisk manner she thundered into the bedroom to ask if he planned on sleeping the entire day away.

And then she knew.

When she phoned me, just an employee at the gym she works out at, she related the story in her forceful, bullish way. There was no sound of distress in her voice. Her words were sharp and unbroken by emotion. I grieved at her story, a sadness welling up inside of me for a loss she surly felt, but couldn't release.

She's had nearly three weeks to mull her loss and wrestle with the thought that she should have gone in sooner to wake him up. If only she'd gone in sooner...

It's been a terrible struggle for her, dealing with the emotions of others. She is not an emotional person and while everyone around her is seeking closure, she bulldozing her way through arrangements and paperwork. I know she grieving, even as she states that she's leaving town to get away from everyone, not because she mournful, but because she's tired of everyone's need to talk.

I haven't seen her in person and I wonder how she'll be when she returns. I hope she'll find the peace she needs and that she can put to rest the question of "what if".

It happened so fast. So unexpectedly.

It's all so personal and terrible.

When I think about her loss it only reminds me to love my Beloved more, because he may not be here tomorrow. So, I watch him sleep and wonder at our future and vow to make more time for us, somehow knowing that there will never be enough time and that one day one of us will wonder what if...

Surly Thou Jesteth

2011-01-19T05:50:00.000-08:00

How does one handle a jest...when you aren't really sure it actually was a jest?

Perhaps "jest" isn't the correct word.

For the life of me I cannot remember what word was used, but it was something like did I "bully, nag, hound" this person to get a positive response.

I had not.

In fact, the woman in question brought up the subject. Not I.

I'm a little put out over the idea that I would strong arm this very nice lady into a conversation concerning a not so important matter.

Actually, I'm a little put out about just about everything these days. I realize it's the anxiety of waiting on test results and the upcoming tour of the surgery theater that has me on edge. It's hard to fake being cheery when I really don't care.

There. I typed it.

I

Don't

Care

Which is so not me. Not really. I'm not that person. I usually ooze sympathy and understanding (except when it comes to FIL that is), but somehow the vat of compassion in my soul has dried up and been blown away by the northern wind.

I am assuming that once the horror of these days pass, that my usually happy demeanor will return. Then, instead of allowing someones thoughtless words to fester in my mind, I'll simply laugh it off and move on to the next conversation. The problem is that in the not so distant future I have a meeting with two ladies who wounded my family in the past and I worry about my snarky tongue.

The elder lady has already taken me to task about a not so kind remark about spending time with an idiot. She was right, of course, it was unkind of me to point out the obvious conclusion of the Berkley woman's idiocy. Truly, what was I thinking?

Oh, perhaps I was simply jesting....Yeah, that's it.

At any rate, I find that I'm being overly sensitive and letting little things get to me. My tongue seems sharper than normal with those on the outside of my little circle. I'm fine with the family, but not so much with the irritating ladies around me. Some of them are just so...so...well, you know how we girls can be at times.

I've just got to tough it out a few more days and take nothing to heart. I keep reminding myself that it's me, not them. However, I'm pretty sure that some of my "jesting" could be misconstrued as something not so nice and they'd be right. It seems my tongue has a life and will of it's own.

Gah!

Thou shall not jest! Not even a little! And thou shall not throw a hissy fit without the opinion of a sane person.

Yesterday, during my pre-op, the nurse told me that on the day of surgery the nurse will offer me Valium or something along those lines. She told me to take it because it will relax me for surgery.

I'm thinking they should have given it to me YESTERDAY, simply for the good of humanity.

Stop the Chatter

2011-01-16T15:24:00.000-08:00

It's been a helluva week, but that's all over now. It amazes me sometimes how wearying life can be. The constant struggles and busyness of it all.

Sometimes I envy those of the socialist background. Those whose greatest ambition is to make sure they don't miss an episode of The Bachelor.

To each his own.

Live and let live.

There is just one thing that's starting to bother me. Okay, truth be told, there are many things that are bothering me, but this is at the forefront of them all.

Must we all truly gossip so much?

You know where this is coming from, right?

In a matter of days I'll be on a temporary medical leave from work. I've told my co-workers a little of what's going on. Just enough information that they need to know. I have refrained from giving them the whole enchilada. I told two of my friends at the gym so that they wouldn't worry.

Everyone else who works out at the gym, well, frankly, it's none of your damn business.

The upcoming event is personal. It's all about me. I am not interested in hearing your "horror story". I am even less interested in listening to your dismissal of my feelings. I do not need your sage advice. Nor am I interested in your homeopathic cures, your witch doctors gleanings, or your frightening tarot card readings.

Snicker

I'm having a bad attitude. I know.

But I really don't care how you feel about my little drama.

Because it is MY drama. My starring role. My stage. My life.

I suppose that some of this stems from my mother's early dismissal of my emotions concerning just about everything in my life. She was always so quick to tell me I was being an idiot or ridiculous. Or dramatic.

And I suppose I am all those and more.

I've made a point of asking those in the "know" to be cautious with details. Sadly, someone, someone I thought I could trust, spilled the beans to their neighbor. Who told their neighbor, who then assaulted me at work with the words, "So, I hear you are going to be out for a while..."

Seriously?

I asked her how she knew and she explained how the details oozed from one house to the other. She started to tell me her "war story" when I cut her off.

"I"m sure you have all sorts of words of wisdom to share with me, but really, you don't know my entire story and I'd really prefer not to discuss it. I'm sure you understand. And I'd really appreciate it if you would keep all this under your hat. I'd like to avoid being the center of attention for the next several days."

She said she understood and let it drop, but I'm miffed that my business is already becoming the gossip around the circuit.

This is what happens when you work with 600 women.

So, I'm trying to keep a low profile. I'm focusing on work, my little green house, my family. I'm longing to have Boy home and thinking about test results that should be back this coming week.

And apparently grinding my teeth in my sleep due to the anxiety it's causing me.

But there is my faith and coffee. I've lost some weight and so has Beloved. I'm working out. I'm sleeping and sometimes a vodka martini sooths my worry.

If I could just stop the chatter!

Doctor, Doctor Gimme the News

2011-01-11T12:20:00.000-08:00

I've had an on going medical issue that has lasted for months. After this test and that test we all agreed that it wasn't the BIG C.

That sigh of relief you heard a few weeks ago, yeah, that was me.

That's all good. It truly is. Now it's just a matter of finding a surgeon that will accept my case. I had no idea that surgeons could be so picky. I guess I understand it though.

Annie can't do anything the easy way.

This week I have three, yes three, doctors appointments. I'm also training newbies at work (love them!). I'm driving Girl to school (she drove on the freeway for the very.first.time.today!!) and the house needs cleaning, meals need cooking, and Beloved likes to talk to me every once in a while.

A couple of days ago, because all that wasn't enough, my jaw started hurting. It mainly hurts when I wake up, but it kinda hurts during the day. It's right where the two jaw bones connect. Oh, and it bugs me if I chew anything hard such as almonds.

I'm confessing, right here and right now, that I haven't phoned the dentist.

Do I really need another doctors appointment this week?

Gah!

Plus, I need to have doctor number one assure doctor number two (so she can assure the surgeon...if we ever find one) that I am not a nut job.

Y'all know what a sappy, emotional, weepy girl I can be. Tis true. Doctor number two is new to the emotional roller coaster that I am. I've cried twice in her office and both times I felt like an IDIOT. I hate crying in front of people that don't know me. Everyone who knows me just brushes it off and hands me a tissue.

Doctor number two asked why I was crying the first time I visited her. I confessed that I was scared to death that it was cancer. I think she understood that and we moved on.

Visit number two confirmed that it wasn't cancer, but there were other matters at hand that needed to be addressed. Of course I cried again. Damn it! This time Doctor number two looked at me quizzically and asked how my Beloved was handling all this.

Huh?

Oh! She wants to know how supportive he is and if he has a clue. I assured her that my Beloved is a prince among men! A prince I say! She prodded me with more questions about him until my pea brain understood what she was saying...

"No, he isn't abusive!" Good Lord Almighty!

And that's when it happened. I think Doctor number two decided that my weepy, sappy behavior is due to a lack of emotional fortitude.

She thinks I'm a crack-pot

Unstable

Emotionally unprepared

Crud.

So, now I have to talk to Doctor number one, who has known me for years and years, and see if she'll write a nice little note in my chart about how stable and NORMAL I am.

And then maybe we can convince a surgeon.

And then we can all meet up in February (should have been January) and get this all taken care of.

And then I can get on with life.

Unless something else decides to fall apart.

Daddy Get Your Gun

2011-01-10T05:59:00.000-08:00

This is what Girl looked like at the ball the other night.

Her time was monopolized by a young man named Cole, or Chip, or something else that starts with a C.

He was not the young man we delayed our departure for.

He was just some other random guy who ended his conversation with, "Are you coming to the Ball in March? Okay, then I know how to find you."

Girl was like, "Whatever. Why are boys so weird?"

She doesn't get it.

But I guess that's a good thing. That she doesn't get it. She isn't vain. Or proud. Or too sexy for her shirt.

She's just girl. With blondie hair. And a dimple. And a cute figure. And...

Needless to say, Beloved knows how to handle it and he now has a better understanding of why my father didn't like him when we were dating.

They grow up so fast, don't they?

Mrs. Bennett

2011-01-09T08:04:00.000-08:00

Last night we attended a Ball. We attend several each year.

We pack up our lovely daughter; hair pulled high, curls cascading, tulle or silk flowing, heels clicking - and drive for nearly an hour so she can dance her feet off.

The young men are there in abundance (duh, that's why we take her) and we smile and trade guarded whispers about whose talking to whom and why.

Beloved and I listened to one childless couple complain about the quality of dancers. It reminded me of that scene in Pride and Prejudice where Carolyn Bingley moaned about those in attendance. It took every ounce of my strength to not turn to this middle aged couple and say, "Really?".

I chatted with another mama whose children were dancing the night away. We found that we had several things in common and that we knew many of the same folks and yet we'd never met. She was a lovely mother of six and while we chatted about people we both knew (she grew up in the same town as Beloved) my eyes kept wandering around the room to find Girl.

So lovely.

At last the clock struck midnight, well it struck 9:30 anyway, and we began saying our farewells...until I turned around and noticed that Girl was talking to THAT young man.

I turned quickly around, looked my new friend in the eye and proclaimed, "I can't leave yet!"

I explained how Girl was talking to THAT young man, the one from the good family. The one who is such a nice young man. The one who is polite and respectful...and trying so hard to get to know Girl.

Yeah, that one!

My new friend laughed and peeked around me to see who it was that was holding my daughters attention.

"I know him," she whispered, "such a nice young man!"

And then it struck me! If that sour faced woman who complained about the quality of dancers was Carolyn Bingley, than surely I was Mrs. Bennett.

God save me.

And save Girl too before I make a fool of both of us!

Pink Wings and Fabulous Shoes

2011-01-03T14:48:00.000-08:00

It happened rather suddenly and in a way that was both electric and disturbing. We were watching a harmless little film called, "Stranger than Fiction" when something joggled my brain.

"Hey..." she whispered.

"Remember...remember when you wanted to write the great American novel?" the voice quarried.

How could I have forgotten?

It's a sad truth that living; my life/their lives, have run away with my time and writing just isn't something I do much of these days.

Writing for free

Writing for pennies

Writing for the sake of writing

It was the fear that first crippled and angered my muse. She was a fragile thing, after all. Asthmatic, diabetic, arthritis riddled was she. Poor, old, fairy godmother in a torn and tattered dress with wings of pink silk and shoes of brown leather.

Frumpy

Distasteful

Brilliant

Still I ignored her. I told her I didn't have time for all that silly tripe. I told her I was busy. I had a job. I had a family. I was important and have responsibilities. I told her I wasn't much of a writer and she'd be better off nagging someone else.

She shot a glare at me from her crinkly, tanned face. I noted that her hair, which had been a fiery red, once upon a time, was now a dirty gray.

When had she aged and why did I have to have this ancient, moody, bitter old sow for a muse? Truly, don't others have beautiful, sultry muses who inspire instead of nag? If so, where can I get me one of those?

Barnes and Noble?

Powells?

7-11?

"You've sold out. THAT is your problem." she croaked as she folded her wand and stuffed it none to carefully into her satchel.

"There was a time when words flew from your fingers and stories flowed sweetly from your lips. Now...now you simply live...What a waste." she grumbled as she stomped out the door.

So, thanks to that little film and the writing bug it awakened within, I'm looking for my muse. You can't miss her. She has a terrible temper and a somewhat foul mouth. She's been known to swill tea by the gallon and still believes that Dean Martin is all that and more .

Aside from the her pink wings and her crinkly face you'll note that she has the most amazing shoes. Soft leather, slightly pointy toes with a four inch heal that rivals any hooker's shoe on the boulevard. They change color depending upon her mood and actually twinkle from time to time. Many a five-year-old girl have squealed with joy upon seeing them.

I have no idea how she moves in them, but she does, and with a grace and flow that would shame a beauty queen.

It was such a little thing. Just a bit of good writing from a not so popular movie and now here I am.

If you see my muse, tell her I said, "Hey." Let her know that I just might be willing to sit down with her and have a chat...if she's in the neighborhood...and has the time. Tell her I've got a cup of tea and lemon tart just waiting for her.

6 Weeks and Counting

2010-12-29T15:08:00.000-08:00

Boy has been gone for one month today. Yeah, we've talked on the phone twice. Facebook has been very helpful for communication, but you know, it's not the same. It's not like I can drive over and see him.

The strange thing is that I've been pretty cool with the entire off continent for ten weeks thing.

Until today.

Today, because it's Wednesday? or it rained? or whatever ? I miss him.

And I've got six long weeks to go.

The hard part is that I don't want to be a pest. I don't wan to be that demanding mother who guilts and railroads her kids into bending to her will, regardless of their age.

I don't want to smother him.

I refrain from posting on his Facebook page how much I miss him. I try to suck up the emotion in my voice (which, according to Girl I totally FAIL at) so that he doesn't hear that I miss him.

But darn it! I MISS HIM!

He hasn't lived at home in nearly four years, so it's not the empty nest thing. I don't know what it is, but I've got six weeks to deal with it.

I tried a distraction at Christmas that ultimately failed. I won't be doing the same thing at New Years. What's a mom to do?

And what if, at some point in time, he decided to live outside the US? It could happen! His line of work could take him anywhere in the world.

Then I'd never see my grandchildren (who don't exist at this point in time). I won't be able to bond with his lovely wife (of which he doesn't have one currently). How can I bake this kid a cheesecake if he lives in Africa?

No one tells you as they place that tiny infant in your arms at the hospital that the years will fly and that ungrateful, selfish child will grow up and start a life of their own.

So selfish!

I suppose it's better than him loafing on my sofa, eating our food, and playing video games.

Sigh.

Six weeks.

Just six more weeks.

Then I'll cry when he comes home and he'll laugh at me. He always laughs when I cry.

Rotten kid.

The Year in Review

2010-12-28T07:04:00.000-08:00

This picture greeted me this morning in my feed on Facebook. It's still difficult to wrap my head around the fact that boy is in India and has been since late November. One has to admit that this picture is epic.

Why, that's my little boy right there in front of the Taj!

Weird!

Of course I'm still getting use to the fact that we are now home owners. There it is, the little, green house on the corner. Astounding!

What's even more amazing is the way it looks on the inside! Hard wood floors make it feel like it belongs to another family. Sometimes I just sit and look around and wonder at it all.

I hope I never get over this feeling of gratefulness.

This year Beloved and I celebrated 23 years of marriage. I'm doing everything I can to keep him alive. Seriously, I'm never dating again!

Trying to keep him alive is proving a challenge since his family history runs through his blood stream and keeps us on our toes. After the last little SHOCK that the doctor sent our way, I started thinking about what's important and realized that we should do all the fun stuff we can.

You know what I mean? See the places we want to see. Do the things we've always meant to do. Remembering not to take days for granted.

That little blondie girl of mine graduated this year. She wrote her first piece of music for the piano. She registered for college. She may have drunk her weight in coffee. In the last two weeks she's had interview one and two for a local business.

Where has the time gone?

Beloved still works for the utility company. That makes ten years this year. He got his dream job and all is well. The new house also gave him a man cave...him happy.

Curves is still my employer and I'm thankful for it. I've made good friends there and kept moving. Two very important things in a girl's life.

It's nice to look back and remember all the things I've been so blessed to be a part of. I know that 2011 is bringing some pretty big changes too, and I think we be ready for them.

So, what happened to you this year?

Is It Possible?

2010-12-27T13:29:00.000-08:00

Do you believe in the possible?

No, not the impossible, like whirled peas or other such nonsense.

But the possible.

Is it possible to remember your fellow man and allow that other drive into your lane...even though the commute is long?

Would it be possible to let that young mother, the one with the screaming toddler, take cuts in front of you at the grocery store. Even though you've been standing in that line for a while now?

Could it possibly cross your mind to pay for a strangers coffee in line behind you?

Or maybe it would be possible to hold open the door...

Or simply smile at a stranger.

What would our world look like if we actually paid it forward?

Did you ever see that movie? It was dribble. Truly.

But the truth is, long before it became "cool" to pay it... others were already doing it. It's the whole do unto others... thing.

If it were possible to step, for just a moment, outside your comfort zone, would you?

Would I?

The New Year is upon us. Each year we consider the past and ponder the future. We decide to diet and exercise. We promise to be better people, to accomplish more, to work less, and spend time with the kiddies.

And it lasts for a month. Or a week. Or a day.

Then it's back to the ol' grind. But what if it were possible to truly change ourselves and our world?

It's an interesting thought.

A little over a year ago, my friend The Writer, announced that she was going to change the world. I chuckled at her, because really, change the world seemed a little outside the possible.

Funny thing is, she has.

Never say never and never think the possible is impossible.

For all things are possible if we actually get off our backsides and do it.

What's possible for you in 2011?

Learning Curve

2010-12-26T07:37:00.000-08:00

It's been an interesting holiday.

I missed my boy. He phoned early Christmas morning though. He shared what he'd done Christmas day and how the Mennonite's, who are staying in the same neighborhood, brought them Christmas cookies. Since we have only heard good things from him about India, I asked if he wanted to come home, or if he planned to extended his stay and continue his work there.

"Oh no, I want to come home so bad! I'm here mentally and in it for the long haul, but I can't wait to come home."

I assure you that I was happy to receive that gift of good news!

We've had a house guest since early in the week. We were so happy to share our home and hoped that she would have a happy holiday with us. It hasn't turned out that way and I think I've learned an important lesson: you cannot make other people happy.

This is a struggle for me, because frankly, I like to be the hostess with the mostess. I like to show people a good time. But this year I have learned that all the baking, running around, and crafts to not ensure a Merry Christmas. Nor does a church service, or the simple truths of God.

Which leads to my new understanding of people and my expectations of them and me. Basically, I think I need to get over myself and just let it be. In all honesty, I thought I had, but yesterday proved to me that I really hadn't. It wasn't a beautiful, peaceful day filled with good food and fun and games. It was a day that produced a bunch of work and I'm pretty sure no one had a good time.

Sigh.

I'm thankful that Christmas isn't really about all that. Not really and that if I keep in mind that Jesus is the reason for the season, than it was a good day!

I'm a slow learner.

But I get there eventually!

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

2010-12-24T09:00:00.000-08:00

God became man.

It sends a chill down my spine. Not only because it's so outside of my pea brain to understand the concept, but also because I still grapple with the "why"?

Okay, I mean, I totally get WHY...but why?

Why me? Why you?

I guess I can't really speak for you because, well, I don't know you, but I KNOW me.

Know what I mean?

I've heard it said that if I was the only person on earth, that Christ still would have been born and died for me. It boggles the mind. I'm so not worth it. I'm petty and angry and sarcastic. I want things my way. I curse and grumble. I find very little good in me.

And yet...

C.S Lewis once compared God becoming man to man becoming a toad for the sake of toads everywhere. Ridiculous I say!

"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth."

Many people don't really have a problem with the infant Jesus as he lay so peacefully surrounded by shepherds and kings. He's not threatening and he's easily dismissed. Yet, one must remember the Cross at Christmas too. The blood and gore and the striking inhumanity of it all.

Why me? Why you?

Why not?

She will bring forth a Son, and you shall call His name JESUS, for He will save His people from their sins." Matthew 1:21

"And Jesus cried out with a loud voice and breathed His last" Mark 15:37

..."But they found the stone rolled away from the tomb. Then they went in and did not find the body of the Lord Jesus...Then, as they were afraid and bowed their faces to the earth, they (the angels) said to them, "Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen!..." Luke 24:2, 5

God's gift is not the tiny infant so helpless and small.

The gift is Jesus, in full glory, brimming with hope and salvation for all who accept the gift of life.

The package, which I'm not worthy to receive, isn't tucked under your Christmas tree this year. You won't find it hidden in the closet or bundled in some stuffy church service.

The package is Jesus, available year round. It's the perfect gift for those of us who have everything...and nothing.

And even though I come with dirty hands and face, sin stained and ugly, I know Jesus smiles and holds out this wonderful gift to me.

And to you.

Merry Christmas

I've Noticed

2010-12-21T22:59:00.000-08:00

I've noticed that there are far too many women in the world who let other people bring them down.

They are doormats.

They have hearts worn on their sleeves.

They are abused.

And used.

Me hates that.

I'm a fighter, don't care what you think, shake it off, sneering kinda girl.

I'll also love the socks off you and bake you cookies...just sayin'.

As I write this my LITTLE girl is reading over my shoulder.

She is her mothers daughter.

She doesn't understand the drama queen dance.

Or the poor me, do you like me, I'll smother you with attention, kinda girl.

She's snarky like her mama.

But her heart is warmer. I think she's more tender. Kinder. Lovelier.

What's important though is that she never allow the earth dwellers to tear her down. See, I figured out a long time ago that the only opinion that matters is Jesus'.

Men will drag you down. Women will snub you. Bosses will boss you and magazines will lie to you about what beauty is.

God never does.

So, I've noticed that God is bringing needy, hurt, abused, women into our lives and I'm wondering if we are supposed to be learning something or teaching something.

Maybe it's a little bit of both.

It's Only Mostly Dead

2010-12-19T15:46:00.000-08:00

We are still computerless.

Which means, in a nutshell, that we are accomplishing all sorts of things at home! What a wonder!

Boy is well, althougth his guitar was stolen in Varanasi yesterday.

Girl is still without confirmation from the local Jr. College. We treked over and were sneered at by financial aid and told to wait...

Curves now features the Curves Circuit with Zumba. If you've never tried it...well, ladies let me just say you simply must!

One of my health concerns has had a positive test result with an answer of zero cancer. Whew!

The other issue remains, but will be dealt with next month. I sure I hope I have a computer by then!

It's days from Christmas and I've plenty to do, just as I'm sure you do.

Merry Christmas dear reader and thanks for your prayers.

And Then it Died

2010-12-14T13:10:00.000-08:00

My Beloved has a lot of great talents.

Fixing a computer is not one of them. I admit that as our computer began to fail that I tried a few little tricks that I know. None of them worked. I was ready to call in the geek squad but Beloved thought he'd give it a go.

It didn't go so well.

As I sit here, at the library computer, I cannot help but wonder what possessed my hammer and nail husband to think he could tinker with the complex inner workings of technology neither of us truly understands. I'll just chalk it up to it being a "male thing".

There's a lot going on with Christmas and all that. Boy is in India and truly loving the work he is doing, the sights he is seeing and the food he is eating.

Girl is all ready for college to begin in January. Now if they'd just tell us whether or not she's gotten any financial aid, that would be great.

I've a got some health things going on...and I really don't care to discuss them, but would appreciate any prayers you throw my way.

Until my next library visit or our computer is repaired, I bid you a very, very Merry Christmas.

Nelly Negative and the Blue Christmas

2010-12-06T06:44:00.000-08:00

For the most part, I like to think I'm pretty upbeat. Pretty, live and let live. Pretty forgiving and kind.

Other times, I'm more like my mother.

Some times, more often than not.

And I hate that.

I seriously need a mouth guard of some sort. Some metal trap that will slam shut over my mouth before a negative comment escapes. Gah! We can put a man on the moon, but we haven't come up with a way to keep us from inserting our foot (read feet) into our mouths.

I wish I wasn't so negative. I wish I was one of those people who others could say they never heard a negative comment come out of my mouth.

Don't get me wrong, I've been working on it. I've stopped giving unwanted and unsolicited advice to family members. I've learned to silently repeat, "Keep your big mouth shut!" whenever I hear something that I consider to be stoopid.

Stupid is as stupid does

So, Santa Baby, all I want for Christmas is muzzle for my smart, sarcastic, negative commenting, mouth.

And speaking of Christmas...Well...it's making me blue.

Or maybe I'm just blue.

I don't know why. I just feel...kinda down.

And yet, it's the most wonderful time of the year, right? I've got my Girl still home. I've got my Beloved. I've got company coming in a few weeks. I'm living in the little, green house on the corner. I'm gainfully employed by a great boss and I've got friends...whom I never see.

My dog is sleeping at my feet and my cat is curled up on a box of Christmas ornaments. The rain is falling outside, but I'm warm and cozy inside.

Maybe it's because Boy is half way around the world.

Or because the one family member that I could count on, up and died on me over a year ago.

Perhaps I just need a good nap and time to read a book.

It could be that I've got to stop listening to John Foreman.

She's somebods baby...somebody's baby girl....

Waaaaaaaa!

That song just kills me.

Okay, well, there's really no time for any of this. I'm off to work to FAKE my happy. I'll earn my pennies and hopefully make someone smile. More importantly, I'll leave Nelly Negative home and pray Santa Baby brings me the muzzle I long for.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2010-11-28T11:45:00.000-08:00

I left him at the airport at 5:30 this morning. I just want to state for the record that I did not cry. Not even a little. I know, it shocked me too.

It's not like it's a big deal. After all, he is twenty. He's flown before and he is simply returning to Idaho.

Yet, it's not really that simple.

Tuesday he leaves for India.

...

He'll be off continent for ten weeks. During that time he'll be practicing all the things he's learned in Idaho. He's in for the experience of a lifetime.

This trip will be so much different from the one he took to Prague back when he was sixteen. You may remember what a mess I was during those two weeks. I wasn't prepared for the worry and anxiety of not being able to fix any problem that came up, but he's older this time. He has more life experience under his belt.

He can drive.

He's a man.

Still, all I see is an eight-year-old who wants to build a fort in our front pasture and shoot his buddy with an airsoft pistol.

Before we left the airport, at the ungodly hour of 6:00am, we grabbed some coffee (yes, I made an exception and drank some - yum!). As we sat sipping our delightfully sweet brew another family sat at a table across from us with their twenty something year old son.

Only he was in uniform.

The soldier's mom and I made eye contact and I realized that we are both sending our sons off to somewhere scary. Yet, we both wore brave faces, void of the concern that squeezed our hearts.

Perhaps she sending her son off to some place hot and sandy. A place filled with roadside bombs and snipers. Her son is a soldier, serving his country.

I am sending my son off to fulfill his calling, in a place that may or may not be dangerous. India has its share of market place bombs, deadly bacteria, and various other scary things. My son is a soldier for the Lord.

We mom's are funny creatures. We are so proud of the men (and women) our children become and yet we cling to a past when they needed us. Sigh.

My boy is prepared for new situations and has made good decisions in the past. I know he'll be fine, but ten weeks is a mighty long time. I can only imagine when the Soldier's mom from the airport will lay eyes on her little boy again.

It's tough letting them grow up, biting your tongue so that you don't remind them to do some trivial piece of business they already took care of. It's hard to not help them pack, or ask them if they have their passport, or their ticket. After all, they aren't stupid.

Boy has already landed in Idaho. In forty-eight hours he'll be on that plane heading farther than he's ever been from home. I don't know when I'll hear from him. I don't know how he'll do laundry, or what he'll eat. I just know he'll be okay.

Right?

Girl announced that maybe she'll do a DTS with YWAM in the future. She'd like to travel and serve too.

My heart stopped then.

But it was okay, because she's only three-years-old and I don't think you can leave the continent when you are that young.

Whew!

Firsts

2010-11-26T16:27:00.000-08:00

We had our first snow fall at the little green house on the corner. While there wasn't much snow, there was a bitter, biting cold that settled in the neighborhood and made us all thankful for our heated homes. Thankfully, the rain brought forty degree temperatures and a return to normal Pacific Northwest weather.

We also celebrated our first Thanksgiving in our new house. We are so thankful for those who shared the day with us, even though the only family who showed up was FIL. The table was beautifully decorated by Girl and Boy was home to share his hysterical stories from Idaho and Utah.

We will be hosting our very first overnight guest for Christmas. Since family doesn't seem to be a big priority any more and Boy will be in India, we decided to invited a single lady who lives out of state and has no family. She was thrilled to accept our invitation and we are looking forward to her visit.

I took my first Zumba class and let me just say that if you haven't tried Zumba, you simply must! So fun and such a great workout! I cannot wait to share it with the ladies at work.

Beloved received the largest paycheck of his career. We celebrated by paying our bills.

We also participated for the first time ever in Black Friday. Since Boy is heading out of the country in a smattering of days, we opted to give him his Christmas present early. Thankfully, there was an awesome buy on a very nice digital camera that is perfect for traveling. I just want to say that Black Friday shoppers at Target are insane, however, the shoppers at Home Depot were totally cool.

I should also mention that the Home Depot staff were pleasant and so helpful. They passed out maps with the location of ALL the Black Friday specials and they served coffee, cocoa and pastry to the folks standing in line. They even opened before their advertised 5:00 am schedule.

The entire event took us exactly one hour to complete.

The last first to share has to do with Boy and Girl taking off to hang out together. Ahhh...So sweet! Just don't tell them I said so!

Amusing List

2010-11-15T06:00:00.000-08:00

So, because I have to go to the laundry mat (even though the washer and dryer are now sitting in the garage), to the doctor (because I've waited weeks for this appointment and I am NOT cancelling it),and to work (because let's face it, Annie's got to pay the mortgage) I am posting an email that a friend sent me.

My favorites from the list are number 4, 9 and 14. What are yours?

1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.


2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.


3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

6. Was learning cursive really necessary?

7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

10. Bad decisions make good stories.

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

 


12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blu-Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.

13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.

14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

15. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

16. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.

17. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

 


18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

19. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?

20. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!

21. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

22. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

23. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time.

24. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important.

Tales from the Laundry Mat: The Shaker

2010-11-08T08:28:00.000-08:00

He was old and kinda dirty. In all honesty, I didn't get close enough to him to smell him. I just had a funny feeling that he might be a tad bit rank. I don't do rank very well.

The lower half of his face was covered in a scruffy graying beard and his hair was a wild mass that fell somewhere between Albert Einstein and an African Tribal Dancer. He didn't smile and he didn't make eye contact.

I was happy the laundry mat was busy that morning.

He'd gotten there before me, so he was already drying his load by the time I got mine started. I noted that he wasn't watching the television, but simply stood staring as his dryer did it's work. I wondered, because I'm just judgemental that way, if he was homeless. It made me a little sad to think that.

I sat there imagining his life, wondering if he had a family, and if there is a soup kitchen in this area. I was reminded that it has been quite awhile since I donated to the food bank. I felt guilty. After all, we have so much! What if this man had lost his job, then his home? It happens. It happens a lot.

Now this poor man probably wonders if he'll ever get back on his feet. How do you find a job when you can't take a shower or give a home address? More importantly, how do you find a job when there are no jobs?

I was ripped from my pondering by a loud SLAP!

I turned to see Scruffy Man shaking out his blue jeans, which had just finished drying.

SLAP!

He shook them again and they snapped loudly causing others to turn and watch.

Scruffy Man folded that pair of jeans with military precision. I watched in amazement as he took another pair of jeans and SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! He shook and folded them in the same way. He did this five times, each time filling the air with a loud, whip like noise.

He shook his shirts.

He shook his socks.

I don't think he had any underwear.

He placed each folded item of clothing neatly into a duffel bag.

"I knew it!" my mind whispered to me, "He is homeless!"

And I watched, a little sad, as he walked out into the cold morning air...and loaded his few belongings into a brand, spanking new, Jeep Grand Cherokee. With custom wheels and a custom paint job.

Then I felt like a doof.

A Mom by Any Other Name

2010-11-06T10:04:00.000-07:00

Y'all know about my dysfunctional, guilt wielding, heart breaking, mentally disturbed mother. You have to know about her because all I did for several posts was whine about our rotten relationship was and how time after time after time (no this isn't a Cyndi Lauper song) I tried to make things right. But never could.

Then I grew a spine and got over it.

What you may not know is that I have adopted other mommies. A girl needs a mommy. Tis true. Truth be told one of my mommies adopted me, only it took me a little while to realize it.

My first replacement mom was my MIL. Although she never knew it, my biological mother was so jealous of her she couldn't see straight. For the first few years of my marriage to Beloved, my "mother" poisoned my mind toward MIL. It took some time but I eventually began to see her for the wonderful treasure she was. This spring will be eight years since she passed away. Very few days go by that I don't think of her.

Sheila is my first adopted mommy. She is amazing and I am truly blessed to have her in my life. She is the one who taught me how to have a healthy relationship with my own daughter. As I watched Sheila with her daughter I began to grasp what a healthy mother/daughter relationship looked like. Then, when Sheila became a grandma, without ever saying a word, she backed up everything that my MIL had shown me about the importance of an older woman in a child's life.

Second up, and not that there is really an order, is Fran. Fran who has never had any children. Fran who is a chef, a painter, and has more money than anyone else I know. She has taught me the key to generosity and that a truly wealthy person is the one who gives to others in need. Her tireless efforts on behalf of college students far from home, families with children dying of cancer, and the elderly, have blessed more than she probably realizes. Fran's just funny that way.

All that and she taught me to make Creme Bruelee, the prefect roasted chicken, and a fish stew that could very well bring world peace. Yum.

There's Anne with and "E", who at fifty was courted by her second husband. I say "courted" because they actually stuck to that old term and kept things on course. I remember well her sharing her views on the difference between "dating" and "courtship" at a luncheon when my, then little girl, was present. She candidly and openly shared about her first marriage (he died in a car accident) to an abusive, alcoholic husband. Then her face beamed as she shared about her courtship to her soon to be new husband, a man of value, honor, and faith. It was beautiful.

Today, these three women, along with a handful of others, are throwing me a house shower. When I explained that it wasn't necessary, after all we just got rid of a bunch of stuff! Ann with an E announced that it was necessary! "We are all so happy for you and want to shower you with blessings and good wishes!"

I love my Moms!

You Dancing Fool, You!

2010-11-04T05:57:00.000-07:00

Last Friday night we escorted Girl and three of her friends to King George's Ball. It's an event put on by a small group about an hour from home. The beauty of this little shin dig is that they teach you to dance. What a wonderful world!

Well, that and you get to dress up all formal and pretty. At least the girls do. I should mention that I found a fantastic formal, black and a size smaller than last year at a local second hand shop. Girl said I looked better than she did and when you consider her age and the state of her....errr...body parts verses mine, that's sayin' something!

Back in the day, you know, post marriage, Beloved use to dance with me. I now know this little maneuver of his was simply another way to win me over. The dancing, of which he wasn't very good at anyway, ended with the birth of our first child.

But this girl lurves to dance. At least she did before she forgot how. Seriously people, our first born is twenty-years-old. It's been awhile since we cut a rug!

Beloved and I have the basic slide waltz two step down, again, not well, but we can do it and if the dance floor is crowded no one notices that we've got three left feet. One foot actual knows what it's supposed to be doing.

At the Ball they taught the Waltz, the Cha-Cha, Swing, and English Country Dancing. We sat most of them out, except for the Cha-Cha. Trust me, it's not as easy as it looks, but it's oodles of fun. Beloved and I laughed and laughed and laughed. We decided that we need to practice in the privacy of our own living room, far from the eyes of the twenty-something couple who obviously took lessons for their wedding dance.

Although I love to dance, I'm not a fan of Dancing with the Stars. I respect the fact that these folks are in mighty good physical shape and that they can seriously shake it up, but I'm not much of a reality TV kinda girl. I mean really, who cares?

All this dancing has awakened the dancing fool in me. I want to dance. I want to drag Beloved, albeit kicking and screaming, to dance lessons. It would be good for us physically and honestly, due to work schedules, we hardly see each other these days.

Not to mention the fact that we have NO social life.

So, what do you think? Are dancing lessons worth the effort? Or a colossal waste of time?

A Social Dilemma

2010-11-03T05:31:00.000-07:00

Years ago, you may recall, we became foster parents.

We thought we could help and thought we could provide what those two wild, wee girls needed.

In actuality, it was hard, frustrating, maddening work that taught us more about ourselves than anything else. Perhaps we failed to change their lives or maybe they simply changed ours. It's truly hard to say. All I know is that I fell in love with two tiny tyrants in spite of the fact that I wanted to run my car into a brick wall for most of those eleven months.

It's all honesty all the time around here ya' know.

But today's blog is not about the wee girls and those crazy months of mind numbing madness. Nope, it's about social workers and my ongoing anxiety/distrust of them.

I have friends way down south who have been fighting a horrible battle. Horrible. It's been nearly one year since it began and we are waiting now for the judge in the case to make the decision of a lifetime. He's got a lot to consider. After all, this case has been riddled with lies, tampering with evidence, manipulation, law breaking, and pure evil.

It was hell to watch and I wasn't even immersed in the case on a daily basis.

Our own experience with social workers proved to us that they are not always the most honest of people. We watched ours lie to the judge, lie to the birth mother, and lie to us. Sometimes, I wanted to ask her if she actually ate with that mouth or if her mother knew she was such a liar!

Seriously, someone needed to be taken to the wood shed.

That case down south has shown me, once again, that social workers will say and do anything necessary to get their job done. Regardless of what's best for the child.

I am leery of those who work in social service and always have been. I was a homeschooler, remember? The scariest thing a homeschooling mommy can think of is someone from "social services" showing up at your door and demanding to see your children to investigate a report of "abuse".

Annie runs screaming from the door and quickly hides children

Annie's adult children pry her fingers off of their flesh, remind her that they are adults and that homeschooling is LEGAL in Oregon....laughing while they do it!

My dilemma than, is this; I work in a gym filled with women of all professions. School teachers, therapists, secretaries, nurses, clerks, and...social workers and those who are employed as their support.

I can feel myself grow cold inside when I ask the question, "What do you do for a living?" and the woman sitting in front of me says, "I'm a social worker."

I wonder, do my eyes narrow as I look at them?

Nah, they don't.

But I feel it inside. The suspicion. The dread. The distrust.

And I wonder, will I ever get over it?

It's been nearly three years since those wee girls went back to live with their mother. We've heard reports that she's had a hard time of it, but she's holding it together and we are happy for her.

See, here's the real deal; the girl's mother wasn't abusive, not in our eyes. She was stupid. She made some stupid choices. I really don't think she deserved to lose her kids. I think what she really needed was help and the right tools to show her how to succeed.

The system is flawed, plain and simple, but how do we fix it?

How do we protect children from abusers, while helping parents who are simply dumb?

The world may never know.

Idiot Girl Moment Number 215

2010-10-26T22:23:00.000-07:00

I am a mother, which means I must be forgiven for all the doofy things I do. I gave birth to this child. I cleaned up after her. I went months without sleep, while she screamed her little blonde head off. This is my pass to forgiveness.

I'm just sayin'.

Today, I dropped my little girl off at the local Jr. college so she could take her placement test. Then I drove about four minutes away to the local mall to kill two hours. Little Girl is ssoooo smart that she whipped right through that test in 1.25 hours. She sent me a txt and I was on my way.

If yourJr. college is like our Jr. college than you know there is NO parking.

None

Nada

Really? Don't they pay folks to figure these things out?

Just askin'.

So, anyway, I arrive at the school and txt Little Girl that I am waiting.

No response

I txt her again and tell her where I am waiting...remember there is NO parking to be had.

No response

At this point a few minutes have passed and I'm getting pretty annoyed. I txt Little Girl AGAIN and then I call her.

Voicemail...

I call her again

and again

and again

and still she doesn't answer her phone.

I phone her again, leaving her a message this time and telling her that I am looking for a place to park and I'm coming in.

But I cannot find a place to park!

So, I call her again....and again...and again....

and leave the following voicemail:

"OH MY GOD WHERE ARE YOU?"

At this point I am on the verge of hysterics. I am certain, down to the core of my being, that someone has absconded with my little blonde girl.

I'm just getting ready to throw the car in park and run RUN into building number nine when who comes sauntering out the door, but my little, blonde, carefree, girl.

She opens the car door and I nearly scream at here saying, "Where have you been!!!!!!!!!"

Ahem...I need a moment...

It turns out that her cell phone did not pick up any of those calls or txts. She was waiting the entire time but couldn't see me from her vantage point.

She was trying not to laugh and I told her it wasn't funny. NOT. ONE. BIT.

I just knew one of those perverts, creeper, stalker, deadbeats had knocked her on the head and carried her off.

Hours later, it's kinda funny.

Kinda.

I just don't think I'm ready for her to go to college. Even if it is only Jr. College.

Good Dog

2010-10-24T21:45:00.000-07:00

This is my dog. His name is Sam. He weighs in at a fluffy 108 lbs. Hims is a good doggy. At thirteen, he's not as energetic as he once was. Truth be told, there was a time when he could chase down and catch (kill) a barn rat. Yes, he was that fast.

These days he's not so fast. Mostly, he just snores. Since moving to the big city Sam has been enjoying all the comforts of home. Including being allowed in the house. Hims wuvs being in dah house!

His most favorite place to sleep is underneath my desk. I have no idea why. Every single time he tries to get up, he hits his head. Sam's usually a really smart dog...

Yesterday, Sam made some new friends, including the local Vet and her assistant. It's was the first time that Beloved had heard Sam growl at a person. It's not his schtich. He's not that kind of dog. Unless you mess with one of his kids...then looky out.

Sam was not impressed with the Vet. He was even less impressed with that bath we gave him this morning. Let me just say that he smells oh, so much better. Wrestling him to the ground to apply ear drops for his raging ear infection was not nearly as much fun as it sounds. He's a big boy that Sam Bo!

Sam has spent most of his life as a farm dog, but those days are over. The posh life of an indoor city dog seems to agree with him. But let me just say that some of us are NOT enjoying his gastrointestinal issues that he is sharing with the other occupants of the house.

I'm proud of the fact that no matter how much Dingo, our bipolar kitty, taunts him, Sam does not react. While Dingo has the run of the house, Sam is only allowed in the 70's room (thus named for the amazingly ghastly orange shag carpet that covers the entire family room floor). And while Sam could simply cross the threshold between the family and living room. He doesn't. Why? Because we told him no and he believed us.

He's a good boy that Sam!

Lessons from the Laundry Mat

2010-10-21T15:31:00.000-07:00

Y'all know I love me a laundry mat...NOT! But, it is a necessity seeing that we swapped our washer and stove for a treadmill. Believe me, we got the better deal. And just think how fabulous Beloved and I will both look once we actually get the silly thing over here and start using it!

Anyway, since I am void of a washing machine, I have located the nearest LM and have become fast friends with the owner. His English isn't great, but man does he keep a clean LM!

Today, since I detest sharing the LM with strangers, I managed to get in the door at just a little after 8:00 am. The place was empty. Happy, happy Annie! I loaded my machines and settled in to re-read one of my favorite books. The television was on, but I decided to ignore AM Northwest.

We don't watch TV. We rebelled against the government, mandatory, digital age. Okay, not really, we just opted not to buy a silly little box that would sit unused because we honestly don't watch that much TV. We have Netflix and the Internet. 'Nough said.

But I found myself at least partly listening to those gleefully happy morning talk show hosts. Why, I was amazed at the things you can learn! I listened and found that most people now meet their "mates" online. Shocking! Can it be true? You can honest to goodness hook up with some stranger and find love everlasting ONLINE? Who'd a thunk it.

More importantly, why oh why would you? Don't most people know that pedophiles and murders lurk online? Chat rooms are akin to playing Russian Roulette! Haven't they heard that song about being So much better online?

Soon after, I learned that my skin is really showing it's age. In fact, at the rate I'm aging....I'm sure to be fifty with fifty year old skin! Some. Day. Soon! Those talks show hosts, in their earnest and passionate way, reminded me that NOW is the time to fight aging; that I can TURN back the clock.

Sadly, I am now in possession of a mortgage....so farewell ageless, beautiful skin.

Sigh.

After the AM talk show I was treated to a game show. Now, it has been years since I watched a game show and apparently, I am indeed smarter than everyone on that show. I knew all the answers. I was engaged. I was right and I was totally sucked in to that program, yelling (in my head of course) at the idiot contestant because she truly did not know Richard Rodger's was the composer who not only won an Emmy, a Grammy, a Tony and an Oscar, but he also won the Pulitzer.

What do they teach these kids in school these days? I'd really like to know.

I think I should quit my day job and work the game show circuit.

On second thought, I think I lack the personality of a game show contestant. Firstly, if I know the answer, I just blurt it right out! I don't have to dribble around bits of information as if I am searching my very soul for the answer to who was the first woman to run for President.

It's Victoria Woodhull in case you didn't know.

Secondly, I'd look huge on TV. Tis true. The camera adds pounds you know and just between us, I have enough already!

That, and my parents would probably see me and sue me for all my winnings. It's just how they roll.

The LM is such a delightful place. I learn so much. For instance, did you know that it is perfectly acceptable to wear your PJ pants to the PUBLIC laundry mat? True. And did you further know that it is nearly mandatory that you bring small children and let them run laps around the machines?

So many lessons and so little time.

Blissfully Living

2010-10-18T18:07:00.000-07:00

So, I'm super busy being all housy and all that. Beloved, who unknown to me, possess an A-type personality. One would think after nearly 23 years of wedded bliss that I would have noticed this. Sadly, I am an unobservant, slothful, B-type person.

Not really.

Seriously though, he's a little particular about things and how things are done around the house.

Ahem...

It's all good. I just have to remind myself that he is the same way when we buy a new car.

That, and as long as my smarty, sarcastic, snarky mouth stays closed, all will be well.

PRAY PEOPLE! PRAY HARD!

Actually, things are lovely, simply lovely here in the little green house on the corner. We are mostly settled in and getting use to the new noises of city life.

It's still kinda strange to see foot traffic out our front window. And nothing thrills my heart more than knowing that any number of stores are mere minutes away.

And still I marvel that no one is walking on my head.

I love it here!

Girl has been accepted to our local community college. She's hunting for a job, of which there seem to be few. She's living in the guest room because we have to carpet her room. We are hoping to have her settled soon.

Boy will be home this weekend for the blink of an eye. I cannot wait to see him!

Sam, our ever faithful great, big, yellow, old dog, is adjusting. He has spent the better part of his life patrolling the open farm land and now he's confined to the lot on the corner. Not that he minds all that much. After all, now he sleeps inside on these crisp fall nights.

Dingo, our bipolar kitty, is still freaked out by every single noise, but at least he's stopped crying in the middle of night because he's forgotten where he is. Or maybe he was just pretending to be "lost" as a pay back for us moving him off the farm. Although, I don't see why that would make difference. He's a spoiled, fat, indoor kitty, not a brawlin' barn cat.

My drive to work is a blink. Really. A blink of seven to ten minutes and I'm there; verses the twenty to twenty-two that it use to be.

I love city life.

And there are no cows...

Bliss people. Pure, unadulterated bliss.

Just a Second

2010-10-06T07:23:00.000-07:00

I have just a second to give a quick update.

Yes, we have moved.

Yes, there is still stuff at the farm to move.

Yes, I will need to clean FIL house before we can say we are really moved.

No, we are not totally unpacked.

No, I haven't exactly decided where furniture should go.

No, I didn't know that my Beloved is a perfectionist.

Yes, the hardwood floors are AMAZING!

Yes, Girl can walk to Dutch Bros all.by.herself.

Yes, I peer out the window, watching for her return.

No, I do not have any pics of the house.

No, I won't be taking any today because I will be at work for eleven or so hours.

No, I'm not happy about it.

Yes, I am still walking around with a stupid grin on my face.

Yes, I love love love this house.

Yes, I will post later.

Negative Nelly

2010-09-28T07:14:00.000-07:00

Today is my forty-third birthday.

My Beloved bought me a house.

Ain't that swell?

We haven't moved in yet due to the fact that we are painting, painting, painting. We also have carpet to rip up. It's beautiful carpet, in most of the house anyway. However, underneath that silver/grey carpet lurks...

beautiful, original, hard wood floors!

My brother-in-law's mouth fell open when he saw them. He's a construction guy. He knows his stuff. So when we pulled up corners of carpeting he looked at Beloved, his little bro', and said, "You realize that you are not only getting hardwood floors, but you've just increased the value of your home by several thousand dollars."

They are the original floors, laid in 1960, that have never seen the light of day. There were no pets in the house. We may really have hit the jackpot here.

But even with all the wonderful things about our little green house, there are still those who have been Negative Nelly. FIL, for one. He's made comments such as,

"Now you'll know what work is..."

"You're going to have a problem with that..."

"Boy, have you got your work cut out for you..."

Yeah, cause we haven't worked our butts off on his stupid farm for the last fifteen years.

We didn't remodel his bathroom.

We didn't sheet rock the ceiling in his house.

Or build a couple of extra rooms.

Or deal with his ANT problem.

Or his septic issues.

Or his well issues.

He's right, we have no idea what we are in for.

Snicker.

One thing I have noticed, neither Beloved or I are cranky about the work we've done thus far. It's been hard work but so rewarding.

All because it's OUR home.

So, Mr. Negative Nelly, take your bad attitude home to your farm. Feed your cows. Mow your lawn. Take care of your own business.

And we'll take care of ours.