I'm thankful not just on Thanksgiving but all year round. I know how lucky I am to have what I do (the people, my job, each healthy day, a home, and all the things we don't think about until they are gone) and I never let a day begin or end without expressing my gratitude for where I fit in to it all.
It has become tradition in social media to spend a month stating things we are grateful for, but that seems like such a waste to me, and almost pejorative. The task itself forces us to call out and minimize the importance of the greater picture. I am not simply grateful for my children, but for the gift of motherhood; for who they are; for their presence; their compassion; the spirits they house within their core; for all they are and ever will be. There is always a bigger picture. How they came to be; what they will become; all the lives they will touch; the picture is vast. To hone in on simply calling them my children does not remotely begin to cover the gratitude and overwhelming sense of awestruck that floods over me when I think of them.
I feel the same about many people in my life. The threads are so interwoven and masterfully crafted to design the life I live, that to pluck at one and pull at it would create a snag difficult for the finest seamstress to darn back together. I am thankful for the ever evolving fine artwork that is my life. It is beautiful and heart wrenching, soothing and thought provoking, stirring and calming, it is complex and easy.
Not a moment passes that I don't realize the power of life and death, and not a moment passes that I am not in absolute terror and ultimate peace in parallel.
Another Thanksgiving comes and goes and the holidays follow close behind and I am blessed ever and always to be a part of them.
About Me
- Lisa
- I always wanted to write a book but could never focus long enough to make it happen. Maybe this blog will inspire me. Or maybe it can be an outlet for my jumbled thoughts and opinions. You may not always agree with me, but that's o.k. I would love to hear your thoughts anyway.
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Thursday, September 3, 2015
The First Day of the Rest of Your Life
Sometimes I wake up and I forget how lucky I am for the simple luxury of opening my eyes to see the first light of day. To hear the quiet of the morning, the sounds of the pups stirring, Jeff lying beside me breathing deeply, still lost in a dream. Somewhere off in the distance a plane is taking off full of passengers destined for faraway places. And I forget how lucky I am to be here. Not every day, but just some days. Most days I know! Life is a gift and I know it better than most! I know how quickly and unexpectedly it can be ripped away without warning. I know the importance of cherishing every moment, every second we have.
On October 7th nearly two years ago I learned my lesson. I learned the value of life and I learned how much I wanted to live. I learned to appreciate everything. Every up and down, every nuance, every tear, every giggle, every smile, every fret. I learned to feel it all, to let it all in, and to absorb it. Sometimes, I falter, but most days.........most days are like finding buried treasure every day. They are an adventure. Each one new and exciting and worth the effort.
October 8th will trigger the first day of the rest of my life. It's a pivotal day in some ways, but mostly it will be like any other. It will be day 1 of year 3. 3-5 is what they said when they diagnosed my secondary PHT following my acute PE resulting in 22 blood clots 2 years ago. But 3-5 was based on my life then. I was sedentary, inactive, full of unhealthy choices. Today I fight to live every day. I eat right, I go to the gym five days a week, I move all the time. I am strengthening my heart and lungs and working to make the most of them. I will not lay down and die just because that's what the medical community diagnosed. Not me.
Day 1 of year 3? First day of the rest of my life. That's what it signifies. Not the end, just the beginning.
Whatever your challenge, whatever you face, don't let others dictate your fate. Take it back. Take control of your life, your future, your destiny. Nobody can predict when or how our lives will end, and nobody can tell us how to live them while we are here. We chose! If you want to live a different life, follow a different path, then get off your ass and do it. Move your feet and make it happen. Happiness and health and peace are choices. Stop making excuses.
On October 7th nearly two years ago I learned my lesson. I learned the value of life and I learned how much I wanted to live. I learned to appreciate everything. Every up and down, every nuance, every tear, every giggle, every smile, every fret. I learned to feel it all, to let it all in, and to absorb it. Sometimes, I falter, but most days.........most days are like finding buried treasure every day. They are an adventure. Each one new and exciting and worth the effort.
October 8th will trigger the first day of the rest of my life. It's a pivotal day in some ways, but mostly it will be like any other. It will be day 1 of year 3. 3-5 is what they said when they diagnosed my secondary PHT following my acute PE resulting in 22 blood clots 2 years ago. But 3-5 was based on my life then. I was sedentary, inactive, full of unhealthy choices. Today I fight to live every day. I eat right, I go to the gym five days a week, I move all the time. I am strengthening my heart and lungs and working to make the most of them. I will not lay down and die just because that's what the medical community diagnosed. Not me.
Day 1 of year 3? First day of the rest of my life. That's what it signifies. Not the end, just the beginning.
Whatever your challenge, whatever you face, don't let others dictate your fate. Take it back. Take control of your life, your future, your destiny. Nobody can predict when or how our lives will end, and nobody can tell us how to live them while we are here. We chose! If you want to live a different life, follow a different path, then get off your ass and do it. Move your feet and make it happen. Happiness and health and peace are choices. Stop making excuses.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
Splinters
Every experience in our lives leaves a mark. Positive or negative, it is etched in the canvas of who we are and our becoming. We start life and within seconds our canvas is already stained with blood and tears, love and pain, worry, relief, joy, sorrow & fear. The veil is thin at first, while innocence still lingers, and we long for the peace of what lies behind its gossamer threads while we face the life we have just been given. As we grow and learn, free will takes over, innocence slowly wanes, we forget about the veil and our canvas becomes more complex and layered with life's experiences.
In time, the canvas becomes three dimensional, as we begin to add elements to it. Each choice, each path taken, each fork in the road, a new element in its depth and story. Sometimes, we find our canvas leaving splinters on our skin, reminders of choices and experiences in the building up and tearing down and rebuilding of who we are along the way. The splinters can fester and become infected and poison the soul, or they can take root into the fabric and design of us and strengthen the skin like armor woven within. Its all about perspective, did that splinter teach you something?
Life is a constant learning and growing experience. When its over, our canvas is full and complex. I imagine it as comparative to a Picasso abstract, only accurately interpreted by those closest to the artist. I am a great artist and I wear full body armor every day, as I walk the streets of life. I endure the splinters and the wonderment of others as they observe my canvas and wonder what it is they are looking at. Interpreting the art. I carry my palette and my brushes with great pride knowing I've come far from where I began peaking back through the veil.
In time, the canvas becomes three dimensional, as we begin to add elements to it. Each choice, each path taken, each fork in the road, a new element in its depth and story. Sometimes, we find our canvas leaving splinters on our skin, reminders of choices and experiences in the building up and tearing down and rebuilding of who we are along the way. The splinters can fester and become infected and poison the soul, or they can take root into the fabric and design of us and strengthen the skin like armor woven within. Its all about perspective, did that splinter teach you something?
Life is a constant learning and growing experience. When its over, our canvas is full and complex. I imagine it as comparative to a Picasso abstract, only accurately interpreted by those closest to the artist. I am a great artist and I wear full body armor every day, as I walk the streets of life. I endure the splinters and the wonderment of others as they observe my canvas and wonder what it is they are looking at. Interpreting the art. I carry my palette and my brushes with great pride knowing I've come far from where I began peaking back through the veil.
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
An open letter...........
To those who I no longer communicate with......
The door is always open, but I no longer make the journey to walk through it. I shut it and turned the deadbolt sometime ago. But...then..in a moment of weakness I went back and decided that it's not in my nature to be so cold and ruthless so I removed it from its hinges and have ever since that day left it as an open space. It is a threshold forever open to those who chose to use it, but I will never cross it's barriers. The only way for us to see or speak to one another is for those who wish to use it, to come through it on their own. I will never breach it's borders.
I did my part. For years I tried, putting myself out there, vulnerable, time and again only to be beaten back with words and actions unkind, judgmental, and dismissive. Both blatantly and passively behind my back and to others in my absence. Those who knew me not, chose to create their own realities and stories about my life and who I was, and never bothered to get the facts or know the truth. Behind the scenes....dirty underhanded, manipulative, envious, bitter, backstabbing occurred....it was hurtful and unnecessary....and all the while public proclamations about the value of family were shouted from the rooftops. I guess "FAMILY" only applied to a select a few, not to all. The truth was...30-50% depending on the day, were excluded. None of us are perfect, but each of us are worthy. We have each & every sibling, faced battles and challenges in our lives in one way or another, and we have each garnered wisdom and strength and humor from them. We may not share much in common, but we should at the very least share respect and kindness. Unfortunately, I have found those traits lacking in those who are silent in my life, and it's sad that we can't find a common ground on which to build peace.
I hold out the faintest glimmer of hope that someday it will happen, but it will not be my steps that make it so. It will be your footsteps and your momentum that triggers the process. I think of it occasionally, like today, but then like a wisp in the wind it's gone and I don't think of it again until the breeze returns. I've already expended too much energy and life on something that others don't want, I'll wait until they do, or accept that they never will. The door remains off the hinges either way.
The door is always open, but I no longer make the journey to walk through it. I shut it and turned the deadbolt sometime ago. But...then..in a moment of weakness I went back and decided that it's not in my nature to be so cold and ruthless so I removed it from its hinges and have ever since that day left it as an open space. It is a threshold forever open to those who chose to use it, but I will never cross it's barriers. The only way for us to see or speak to one another is for those who wish to use it, to come through it on their own. I will never breach it's borders.
I did my part. For years I tried, putting myself out there, vulnerable, time and again only to be beaten back with words and actions unkind, judgmental, and dismissive. Both blatantly and passively behind my back and to others in my absence. Those who knew me not, chose to create their own realities and stories about my life and who I was, and never bothered to get the facts or know the truth. Behind the scenes....dirty underhanded, manipulative, envious, bitter, backstabbing occurred....it was hurtful and unnecessary....and all the while public proclamations about the value of family were shouted from the rooftops. I guess "FAMILY" only applied to a select a few, not to all. The truth was...30-50% depending on the day, were excluded. None of us are perfect, but each of us are worthy. We have each & every sibling, faced battles and challenges in our lives in one way or another, and we have each garnered wisdom and strength and humor from them. We may not share much in common, but we should at the very least share respect and kindness. Unfortunately, I have found those traits lacking in those who are silent in my life, and it's sad that we can't find a common ground on which to build peace.
I hold out the faintest glimmer of hope that someday it will happen, but it will not be my steps that make it so. It will be your footsteps and your momentum that triggers the process. I think of it occasionally, like today, but then like a wisp in the wind it's gone and I don't think of it again until the breeze returns. I've already expended too much energy and life on something that others don't want, I'll wait until they do, or accept that they never will. The door remains off the hinges either way.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Still Clumsy
Sometimes I just have to laugh at the clown show that is me. I am ever increasingly more clumsy and uncoordinated. It's more than hand eye skill, it's putting one foot in front of the other. It's about walking and chewing gum at the same time.
Now I am a fairly intelligent woman, I converse well with others, I retain knowledge gained, and I use logic to resolve situations. The problem is, I can't do physically exerting things while my thought processes are in charge. I lose focus, and BAM, down on the mat I go (or the curb, or the treadmill, or simply the floor around me).
No matter how active I want to become, it is clear that with it comes an inherent danger of clumsiness and peril for me. I become a one woman entertainment mecca for those observing. The living embodiment of a blooper real in everyday life. If video was rolling when I'm around, buckets of cash could be made off the lunacy of my failures.
"The treadmill is my friend", a mantra I should repeat a thousand times each day before I go to the gym. Maybe then it wouldn't kick my butt. It's clear that walking is my thing. Running is out of the question because that requires me to let go of the hand rails and, yep you guessed it....Splat.
Heck there are days a pine cone on the driveway trips me up, what makes anyone think putting me on a fast paced moving walkway could offer anything but trouble. Today's bumps and bruises make it clear that regardless of training, active lifestyle choices, or simple healthy living, I will always be a klutz. I have to focus on the task at hand and as soon as a distraction or random thought enters the picture, it's time for the laugh track.
Born clumsy, grew up clumsy, still clumsy. If I don't laugh at myself I might cry. It's easier to take it lightly and know where my strengths are and are not. I have to laugh, it's quite the comical picture.
Now I am a fairly intelligent woman, I converse well with others, I retain knowledge gained, and I use logic to resolve situations. The problem is, I can't do physically exerting things while my thought processes are in charge. I lose focus, and BAM, down on the mat I go (or the curb, or the treadmill, or simply the floor around me).
No matter how active I want to become, it is clear that with it comes an inherent danger of clumsiness and peril for me. I become a one woman entertainment mecca for those observing. The living embodiment of a blooper real in everyday life. If video was rolling when I'm around, buckets of cash could be made off the lunacy of my failures.
"The treadmill is my friend", a mantra I should repeat a thousand times each day before I go to the gym. Maybe then it wouldn't kick my butt. It's clear that walking is my thing. Running is out of the question because that requires me to let go of the hand rails and, yep you guessed it....Splat.
Heck there are days a pine cone on the driveway trips me up, what makes anyone think putting me on a fast paced moving walkway could offer anything but trouble. Today's bumps and bruises make it clear that regardless of training, active lifestyle choices, or simple healthy living, I will always be a klutz. I have to focus on the task at hand and as soon as a distraction or random thought enters the picture, it's time for the laugh track.
Born clumsy, grew up clumsy, still clumsy. If I don't laugh at myself I might cry. It's easier to take it lightly and know where my strengths are and are not. I have to laugh, it's quite the comical picture.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
First Love Thyself
They say in order to love others we must first love ourselves. This is tough because we are our biggest critics. We are harder on ourselves than anyone else can ever be.
I have spent the greatest part of my life, banging my fist against concrete walls fighting this battle. Too many wounds from childhood and early adulthood left me with deep rooted scars that made it difficult to believe in myself. How do you love yourself, when you see yourself as unlovable. An uphill battle for certain. But this year has been all about uphill battles and overcoming them.
I can climb hills now, and even though I am out of breath when I am through, I have a feeling of victory and accomplishment when I succeed.
Learning to love myself is no different. I have learned to accept my limitations, my flaws, and my eccentricities and to elevate them to positives. I am so lucky for the life I have, for the love of my sons and my friends. I have so much to be thankful for, and I love being me. Its not easy. I am a challenge. I am stubborn and opinionated. I am both independent but conversely need affirmation of my value. I am complex and difficult, but I am also fiercely loyal, loving, kind, and generous. I am silly and funny and ridiculously goofy at times.
For years, the idea of having my picture taken was frightening. The idea of seeing myself the way others see me, was terrifying. But no more......My face book profile, once littered with landscapes and wildlife, now has my face. Its not always polished and perfect, but its me, and I'm happy and I'm smiling.
I've learned to love myself, despite all the self doubt I once drowned in, and I love deeper, better, & stronger for it.
I have spent the greatest part of my life, banging my fist against concrete walls fighting this battle. Too many wounds from childhood and early adulthood left me with deep rooted scars that made it difficult to believe in myself. How do you love yourself, when you see yourself as unlovable. An uphill battle for certain. But this year has been all about uphill battles and overcoming them.
I can climb hills now, and even though I am out of breath when I am through, I have a feeling of victory and accomplishment when I succeed.
Learning to love myself is no different. I have learned to accept my limitations, my flaws, and my eccentricities and to elevate them to positives. I am so lucky for the life I have, for the love of my sons and my friends. I have so much to be thankful for, and I love being me. Its not easy. I am a challenge. I am stubborn and opinionated. I am both independent but conversely need affirmation of my value. I am complex and difficult, but I am also fiercely loyal, loving, kind, and generous. I am silly and funny and ridiculously goofy at times.
For years, the idea of having my picture taken was frightening. The idea of seeing myself the way others see me, was terrifying. But no more......My face book profile, once littered with landscapes and wildlife, now has my face. Its not always polished and perfect, but its me, and I'm happy and I'm smiling.
I've learned to love myself, despite all the self doubt I once drowned in, and I love deeper, better, & stronger for it.
Summer in the Northwest this year is in full force and its not the same. We have had what I would affectionately term a So Cal Summer. More days in the mid to high 90's than ever before and my usually green and luscious state is "browning" out. With the lack of rain fields are no longer green, yards, unlike our neighbors to the south, don;t typically have automatic sprinkler systems and quickly turn to straw.
Don't get me wrong, its amazing weather for activities and enjoying the outdoors, but the aesthetics, the "pretty" is just not there.
We are hiking and golfing and swimming and loving the warm summer days and easy summer nights. But in all truth...I look forward to the fall with the changing leaves and colors. I look forward to cooler days and nights. I love my sweaters and boots and leggings.
Summer has been different this year. It feels like a planetary shift. Like every ones weather is changing. Small changes, nothing catastrophic, but definite climate shifts. Maybe its the preponderance of large earthquakes and shifting forces within the Earths core over the past few years. Maybe we are facing another major evolutionary event. Maybe, Maybe, Maybe, but in the big scheme I am but an ant enjoying my day in the sun, or the rain....bring back the rain. I miss the green.
Don't get me wrong, its amazing weather for activities and enjoying the outdoors, but the aesthetics, the "pretty" is just not there.
We are hiking and golfing and swimming and loving the warm summer days and easy summer nights. But in all truth...I look forward to the fall with the changing leaves and colors. I look forward to cooler days and nights. I love my sweaters and boots and leggings.
Summer has been different this year. It feels like a planetary shift. Like every ones weather is changing. Small changes, nothing catastrophic, but definite climate shifts. Maybe its the preponderance of large earthquakes and shifting forces within the Earths core over the past few years. Maybe we are facing another major evolutionary event. Maybe, Maybe, Maybe, but in the big scheme I am but an ant enjoying my day in the sun, or the rain....bring back the rain. I miss the green.
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
Don't Scratch that Itch
Some general guidelines and reminders for appropriate public etiquette are in order today.
1. Don scratch that itch! We have all been there when that itch suddenly overwhelms, it comes without warming and with n regard for where you are or in whose company you might be. Please, for the love of god, don't scratch it. There is nothing worse than being the unwilling observer of the inappropriate public itcher. YES, we can all see you scratching your nuts/butt/boob/lady parts/ etc. You may think your being subtle and sneaky and that no one will notice, but we do! And its really AWKWARD, somewhat offensive, oddly fascinating, and just generally creepy.
2. Got a wedgie? Don't fix it in public. We see you standing by your car trying to pull the wrenched undergarment out of your crevices. Find a restroom. That strange walk you do with the weird leg twitch, trying to dislodge the wedgie, only leads us to concern for your health and safety. Are you having a spasm of some sort, should we call 911? The solution is easy; either, find a private restroom stall and fix it properly, or; avoid the wedgie all together by purchasing the correct size underwear so the too small versions don't creep up your bum.
3. Bodily functions and self pleasure are meant to be private! I don't need to see you peeing or taking a squat in the bushes at the edge of Joann's Fabrics. Nor should you ever assume it's acceptable to pleasure yourself, however covered up you might consider yourself, in public. EWWW gross, that's all I can say on the topic without further throwing up in the back of my mouth.
Most of this is simple logic and basic self awareness, but I've realized these are traits not all people possess. Some are severely lacking. Try to turn away, try not to watch, but sometimes its like watching the monkeys at the Zoo. You know the behaviors might get unquestionably bad, but you watch anyway, secretly proud that you are the superior species. Call them out on their bad behavior and they might throw feces at you.
1. Don scratch that itch! We have all been there when that itch suddenly overwhelms, it comes without warming and with n regard for where you are or in whose company you might be. Please, for the love of god, don't scratch it. There is nothing worse than being the unwilling observer of the inappropriate public itcher. YES, we can all see you scratching your nuts/butt/boob/lady parts/ etc. You may think your being subtle and sneaky and that no one will notice, but we do! And its really AWKWARD, somewhat offensive, oddly fascinating, and just generally creepy.
2. Got a wedgie? Don't fix it in public. We see you standing by your car trying to pull the wrenched undergarment out of your crevices. Find a restroom. That strange walk you do with the weird leg twitch, trying to dislodge the wedgie, only leads us to concern for your health and safety. Are you having a spasm of some sort, should we call 911? The solution is easy; either, find a private restroom stall and fix it properly, or; avoid the wedgie all together by purchasing the correct size underwear so the too small versions don't creep up your bum.
3. Bodily functions and self pleasure are meant to be private! I don't need to see you peeing or taking a squat in the bushes at the edge of Joann's Fabrics. Nor should you ever assume it's acceptable to pleasure yourself, however covered up you might consider yourself, in public. EWWW gross, that's all I can say on the topic without further throwing up in the back of my mouth.
Most of this is simple logic and basic self awareness, but I've realized these are traits not all people possess. Some are severely lacking. Try to turn away, try not to watch, but sometimes its like watching the monkeys at the Zoo. You know the behaviors might get unquestionably bad, but you watch anyway, secretly proud that you are the superior species. Call them out on their bad behavior and they might throw feces at you.
Little Miss Fancy Pants
Well isn't that a hoot. The last time I was called little miss fancy pants I was wearing a full length Fox fur coat from my first husband and it was a said with a snear by someone jealous. O.k.......first of all yes..I said fur coat. I was precocious then and thought that symbols of success WERE success. Oh so young....and naive. Life had a lot of teaching yet to do back then. Lots of hard paths paved with jagged stones before I found my smooth walkway.
When we are young we seek the simpler paths, the road of least resistence with the greatest perceived reward. The more immediate the reward the better. We don't think about the addages our parents spout about things being too easy coming at a price. We want what we want, and we can't see the greater picture....at least not right away.
Life has a way of teaching its lessons. Sometimes subtly, and sometimes with no compassion or empathy at all... just brutal and full force. But lessons are important. We learn to appreciate even the mundane. No blessing is too small, and we learn that material possessions can't buy happiness and wealth does not always equal success. Success is so much more than just money and fur coats.
Love and friendship; peace with ones self; acceptance and compassion; these are all signs of success. The measure of a man is not the size of his bank account but the size of his heart. Sort of a plagarized ripoff from someone elses famous quote, but you get it....right?
This morning I was called little miss fancy pants because of an organization choice. At last...Success based solely on my obsessive compulsive need to have things in order; a place for everything and everything in its place. My system was the "fancy" in fancy pants. No snears inferred, it was a compliment, and one I appreciated.
I can still be little miss fancy pants, with my fashion choices, my food choices, my interests........but earning the title with my OCD need to control the elements in my immediate world.....well that was Fancy.
When we are young we seek the simpler paths, the road of least resistence with the greatest perceived reward. The more immediate the reward the better. We don't think about the addages our parents spout about things being too easy coming at a price. We want what we want, and we can't see the greater picture....at least not right away.
Life has a way of teaching its lessons. Sometimes subtly, and sometimes with no compassion or empathy at all... just brutal and full force. But lessons are important. We learn to appreciate even the mundane. No blessing is too small, and we learn that material possessions can't buy happiness and wealth does not always equal success. Success is so much more than just money and fur coats.
Love and friendship; peace with ones self; acceptance and compassion; these are all signs of success. The measure of a man is not the size of his bank account but the size of his heart. Sort of a plagarized ripoff from someone elses famous quote, but you get it....right?
This morning I was called little miss fancy pants because of an organization choice. At last...Success based solely on my obsessive compulsive need to have things in order; a place for everything and everything in its place. My system was the "fancy" in fancy pants. No snears inferred, it was a compliment, and one I appreciated.
I can still be little miss fancy pants, with my fashion choices, my food choices, my interests........but earning the title with my OCD need to control the elements in my immediate world.....well that was Fancy.
Monday, June 1, 2015
People are Funny....
We are an eclectic blend of weird and strange and crazy. I like to think I am unique, but the truth is I am actually quite bland and boring compared to the vast array and majority of characters out there.
As a species we are as varied as the spines on a porcupines butt or the the freckles on gingers face in the peak of summer. There are no two alike and we are all at risk of being ranked certifiably bat guano sniffing lunatics depending on who does the assessment.
Lets start with one pocket in my immediate world, the gym, for instance......
You have the creeper. 50 something, balding 5'6", thick black glasses, he comes in alone every night. Jeans, crocs, and plaid button down shirt hanging loosely over his stained t-shirt with his hairy belly button saying "hello world". Not exactly workout attire. You're not sure he's even a member, but he must be because they let him in and they let him stay? He does not, however, come to work out, or to get any exercise at all. He comes for the television, the massage chairs, and the view. He sits in the massage chairs of which there are only two intended for post workout quick relief with 5 minute cycles, but he sits for hours waiting for someone to need them. Staff eventually stops giving him tokens, but still he sits. He hoards the television remote and you can catch him, not so subtly, watching all the girls as they walk by. Should someone legitimately want to use one of the chairs he is sitting in, and he be forced to move, he hovers....leaning over the half wall until he can scamper back in like a rat on cheese. And may the gods have mercy on the soul that dares to change the television channel, while he waits to return to his self appointed throne. The daggers thrown from his icy stare and pouty overgrown mustached lip will have you checking your rear view mirror and back seat when you leave. Complain about it and you'll hear him whine about his rights and grunt about the a-holes that come to this place.
On the evenings when you miss the Creeper because perhaps it is past his bedtime and the moon hangs low, you'll find the family from south of the border. They come in around 11p.m. There are 8-10 of them, all women, ranging from late teens to early 60's. They are communal. They line up and do a few exercises together and then quickly retire to the locker room. This is where they begin their nightly routine of showers. They have a structure and a schedule. For other Gym members the dressing rooms and showers effectively become unavailable for the next 90 minutes as each family member takes their rotation through the cycle. If you enter the Locker room or bathroom you are suddenly overcome with the illogical yet very palpable feeling as though you have intruded on a private gathering in the home of this family as they prattle on in their native dialect, run around in towels and otherwise states of undress, blow dry and style their hair, perform facial cleansing and other rituals of general hygiene otherwise done at home. When all are done they gather for an hour of rotation in the massage chairs family living room style as they sit on the floor watching television and taking turns in the chairs.
Though there are no LUGS signs all around, there are still the typical lugs, in their tanks walking around and grunting as they pump and primp and sweat. The lugs refuse to wipe the machines down after a use, leaving those who follow the task of removing buckets of sweat left behind. They are rare, but rude. There are the pretenders who wear full gym suits ala' circa 1985 and do one or two reps at each machine (not in good form) and call it "Check, Workout Complete". They actually make me giggle.
Most members are people working really hard and really serious about what they are doing, but there are those who are just there to say they go to the gym too. It's not about size or age or looks, it's about commitment. Are you there to take a shower, watch TV, Sit in a massage Chair, or are you there to work your ass off both figuratively and literally? It's a no judgment zone, TRUE, but show some courtesy for other members. DON'T hoard areas and facilities that are intended for all member use, and DO wipe down machines and equipment when you are through.
Be as weird as you want, just respect others as you do it.
As a species we are as varied as the spines on a porcupines butt or the the freckles on gingers face in the peak of summer. There are no two alike and we are all at risk of being ranked certifiably bat guano sniffing lunatics depending on who does the assessment.
Lets start with one pocket in my immediate world, the gym, for instance......
You have the creeper. 50 something, balding 5'6", thick black glasses, he comes in alone every night. Jeans, crocs, and plaid button down shirt hanging loosely over his stained t-shirt with his hairy belly button saying "hello world". Not exactly workout attire. You're not sure he's even a member, but he must be because they let him in and they let him stay? He does not, however, come to work out, or to get any exercise at all. He comes for the television, the massage chairs, and the view. He sits in the massage chairs of which there are only two intended for post workout quick relief with 5 minute cycles, but he sits for hours waiting for someone to need them. Staff eventually stops giving him tokens, but still he sits. He hoards the television remote and you can catch him, not so subtly, watching all the girls as they walk by. Should someone legitimately want to use one of the chairs he is sitting in, and he be forced to move, he hovers....leaning over the half wall until he can scamper back in like a rat on cheese. And may the gods have mercy on the soul that dares to change the television channel, while he waits to return to his self appointed throne. The daggers thrown from his icy stare and pouty overgrown mustached lip will have you checking your rear view mirror and back seat when you leave. Complain about it and you'll hear him whine about his rights and grunt about the a-holes that come to this place.
On the evenings when you miss the Creeper because perhaps it is past his bedtime and the moon hangs low, you'll find the family from south of the border. They come in around 11p.m. There are 8-10 of them, all women, ranging from late teens to early 60's. They are communal. They line up and do a few exercises together and then quickly retire to the locker room. This is where they begin their nightly routine of showers. They have a structure and a schedule. For other Gym members the dressing rooms and showers effectively become unavailable for the next 90 minutes as each family member takes their rotation through the cycle. If you enter the Locker room or bathroom you are suddenly overcome with the illogical yet very palpable feeling as though you have intruded on a private gathering in the home of this family as they prattle on in their native dialect, run around in towels and otherwise states of undress, blow dry and style their hair, perform facial cleansing and other rituals of general hygiene otherwise done at home. When all are done they gather for an hour of rotation in the massage chairs family living room style as they sit on the floor watching television and taking turns in the chairs.
Though there are no LUGS signs all around, there are still the typical lugs, in their tanks walking around and grunting as they pump and primp and sweat. The lugs refuse to wipe the machines down after a use, leaving those who follow the task of removing buckets of sweat left behind. They are rare, but rude. There are the pretenders who wear full gym suits ala' circa 1985 and do one or two reps at each machine (not in good form) and call it "Check, Workout Complete". They actually make me giggle.
Most members are people working really hard and really serious about what they are doing, but there are those who are just there to say they go to the gym too. It's not about size or age or looks, it's about commitment. Are you there to take a shower, watch TV, Sit in a massage Chair, or are you there to work your ass off both figuratively and literally? It's a no judgment zone, TRUE, but show some courtesy for other members. DON'T hoard areas and facilities that are intended for all member use, and DO wipe down machines and equipment when you are through.
Be as weird as you want, just respect others as you do it.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Spring has Sprung - Is it Ragweed or Cherry Blossoms?
I am one of the lucky ones. I see the dogwood pollen floating on the breeze like little tufts of cotton candy, and I find myself visually following its' path to see where it lands. Its actually mesmerizing. The local news anchors (when I can stand to tune in to their nonsensical ramblings about non-news items) talk about today's pollen count and I passively file the information away for conversation should any of my allergy riddled friends mention their own struggle and plight.
As for me, yesterday on my across the courtyard at work I saw a mother duck with her young ducklings as they waddled across the pathway in front of me and as I yielded the right of way to my foul friend, I thought how quintessentially spring this moment was. It was new life, new beginning, another year, and new cycle fresh and sweet. They come every twelve months give or take a few days or weeks depending on that rodent Phil and his shadow, and it gives us all time to hit the refresh button.
We plant new gardens....change it up and stay the course.....it's all about opportunity. Do we plant the same tried and true, or do we explore something zany and new? Do we want cherry tomatoes or heirlooms, or maybe this year we want tomatillos? How about Herbs, or maybe just flowers? What magic potions or pretty pictures do you plan to creatively design this season?
Spring means 70's and sunshine one day and 50's and grey skies the next. But spring also means that everyday something new is blooming in my yard, and in the fields outside my office window. The smell of fresh mowed grass is in the air and somewhere in the distance I can hear another lawn being shorn.
At night I can hear crickets again and I think there are frogs somewhere nearby too, though I don't know where a water source might be? Everything is waking up from the cold winter months, and yet I can still enjoy the coziness of one last fire in the hearth and a warm blanket to snuggle under in the evening.
I don't mind the blooms and dogwoods, the invisible villain they name 'Pollen'. I see Cherry Blossoms and Mother Ducks and I'm reminded that every spring life reboots.
As for me, yesterday on my across the courtyard at work I saw a mother duck with her young ducklings as they waddled across the pathway in front of me and as I yielded the right of way to my foul friend, I thought how quintessentially spring this moment was. It was new life, new beginning, another year, and new cycle fresh and sweet. They come every twelve months give or take a few days or weeks depending on that rodent Phil and his shadow, and it gives us all time to hit the refresh button.
We plant new gardens....change it up and stay the course.....it's all about opportunity. Do we plant the same tried and true, or do we explore something zany and new? Do we want cherry tomatoes or heirlooms, or maybe this year we want tomatillos? How about Herbs, or maybe just flowers? What magic potions or pretty pictures do you plan to creatively design this season?
Spring means 70's and sunshine one day and 50's and grey skies the next. But spring also means that everyday something new is blooming in my yard, and in the fields outside my office window. The smell of fresh mowed grass is in the air and somewhere in the distance I can hear another lawn being shorn.
At night I can hear crickets again and I think there are frogs somewhere nearby too, though I don't know where a water source might be? Everything is waking up from the cold winter months, and yet I can still enjoy the coziness of one last fire in the hearth and a warm blanket to snuggle under in the evening.
I don't mind the blooms and dogwoods, the invisible villain they name 'Pollen'. I see Cherry Blossoms and Mother Ducks and I'm reminded that every spring life reboots.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
I am Serious and Don't call me Surely
I realized recently that my boys have been right about me for some time. Seriously. I know you must think I'm losing my mind what with the cutting back in calories, and excessive time at the gym...but I am quite Serious.
My boys have been telling me for years that I am a little bit controlling. I like to control the world around me and make sure it fits my expectations and needs. I have a general vision in my head for how I want life to play out for myself and those I love and care for, and I work diligently to help ensure that all roadblocks are removed that might prevent or otherwise obstruct the path to achieving those goals.
It takes a LOT of energy and control to keep all of the balls for this virtual extreme juggling act in the air, but its worth it. Well it was worth it...until one day I woke up and realized the little boys whose lives I had been able to guide and manage and direct, no longer needed my management skill set.
I tried turning the skill set to Jeff, but he can only take so much before he kindly but clearly indicated it was time for me to redirect my need to control something elsewhere. He loves me but even I can acknowledge I was being a butt head. I'm lucky he's patient with me.
I dabbled in wine, hats, cowboy boots, candles, and various other obsessions, all of which I have learned and mastered my control of my urge to have them over, but they all left me empty with a need still for something I could take control of heart and soul..
And then it hit me. I would take back control of my health and weight. I am in control of how I feel and how I look. I decide what to eat and how much I weigh. It's within my control and it's up to me to take control and determine how much I can contribute to my health and future.
Some things are out of my hands, but the food I put in my mouth and the steps my feet take, are completely mine to determine.
So I redirect all that control I once relished as mom taking care of my boys, teaching, guiding, loving and making sure they were on the right paths to being the amazing young men they are, and I turn it back on me.
I seriously get it. Surely it shouldn't have taken me so long, but it's never too late. I feel better today that I did a month ago, and six months from now I will be a different person.
Fingers Crossed.
My boys have been telling me for years that I am a little bit controlling. I like to control the world around me and make sure it fits my expectations and needs. I have a general vision in my head for how I want life to play out for myself and those I love and care for, and I work diligently to help ensure that all roadblocks are removed that might prevent or otherwise obstruct the path to achieving those goals.
It takes a LOT of energy and control to keep all of the balls for this virtual extreme juggling act in the air, but its worth it. Well it was worth it...until one day I woke up and realized the little boys whose lives I had been able to guide and manage and direct, no longer needed my management skill set.
I tried turning the skill set to Jeff, but he can only take so much before he kindly but clearly indicated it was time for me to redirect my need to control something elsewhere. He loves me but even I can acknowledge I was being a butt head. I'm lucky he's patient with me.
I dabbled in wine, hats, cowboy boots, candles, and various other obsessions, all of which I have learned and mastered my control of my urge to have them over, but they all left me empty with a need still for something I could take control of heart and soul..
And then it hit me. I would take back control of my health and weight. I am in control of how I feel and how I look. I decide what to eat and how much I weigh. It's within my control and it's up to me to take control and determine how much I can contribute to my health and future.
Some things are out of my hands, but the food I put in my mouth and the steps my feet take, are completely mine to determine.
So I redirect all that control I once relished as mom taking care of my boys, teaching, guiding, loving and making sure they were on the right paths to being the amazing young men they are, and I turn it back on me.
I seriously get it. Surely it shouldn't have taken me so long, but it's never too late. I feel better today that I did a month ago, and six months from now I will be a different person.
Fingers Crossed.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Planners vs. Procrastinators - The Epic Battle
Are you a planner or a procrastinator? Do you stay awake at night thinking of all the details that need to be taken care of in order for your plans and projects to succeed flawlessly and to great praise? Do you make lists and begin preparations months in advance.
No matter the event; No matter the simplicity or complexity: You have every detail thought out, envisioned, mapped and precisely ready in your mind. You have time tables for each task to be completed and you have built in safety nets just in case. There is always a plan 'B' for your plan 'B'. Failure is not an option.
But even as you stay on track, and realistically you know you've never missed a deadline, you panic every time, and stress overwhelms you and thereby those around you as projects, party's, events, holidays, vacations, plans, draw nearer and nearer. What did you forget? Something?! Nothing! Something?! Nothing! You banter with yourself an internal conflict that externally reflects demanding or panicked bitch mode. And you try to calm, but your forgot something?! Nothing! and then the time and event comes, and goes, and everything happens as it should and it's flawless and whatever you forgot is forgotten and not one notices, not even you! And you breathe and you rest and everyone says how much fun they had, and the planner in you was a success.
But sometimes, you wonder........just sometimes.....is it all worth it. Do you ultimately stress and worry just as much as the procrastinator? Scurrying about at the last moment trying to pull it all together? Do the the details REALLY matter all THAT much? Do people REALLY notice? Would it be worth it just to laze about for months and weeks and days on end leading up to whatever the grand event, without a care or thought towards it. Just living in the moment not caring? Isn't a passing grade passing whether it's Satisfactory or Exemplary in the grand scheme of things equal and passing all the same? Why not put in just enough effort to make it work and relax?
O.K. Truth........Even typing that stressed me out. The mere idea stresses me out. Of COURSE the details matter. Planning ahead, thinking ahead, being strategic with my time and efforts, doing the best work I can and delivering a kick ass result, it's the only thing I know how to do. If it means you have to deal with bitch mode occasionally, then deal with it. I deal with your dirty socks, and all kinds of annoying habits. Do I sometimes wake from a dead sleep with a thought about a project I'm working on? Well of course, I do! Who doesn't!?!?!? This is life. It's why you love me and it's the balance I bring to my world of men who procrastinate the simple task of waking daily. What would they do without me.
Their universe keeps evolving because I plan it out for them.
No matter the event; No matter the simplicity or complexity: You have every detail thought out, envisioned, mapped and precisely ready in your mind. You have time tables for each task to be completed and you have built in safety nets just in case. There is always a plan 'B' for your plan 'B'. Failure is not an option.
But even as you stay on track, and realistically you know you've never missed a deadline, you panic every time, and stress overwhelms you and thereby those around you as projects, party's, events, holidays, vacations, plans, draw nearer and nearer. What did you forget? Something?! Nothing! Something?! Nothing! You banter with yourself an internal conflict that externally reflects demanding or panicked bitch mode. And you try to calm, but your forgot something?! Nothing! and then the time and event comes, and goes, and everything happens as it should and it's flawless and whatever you forgot is forgotten and not one notices, not even you! And you breathe and you rest and everyone says how much fun they had, and the planner in you was a success.
But sometimes, you wonder........just sometimes.....is it all worth it. Do you ultimately stress and worry just as much as the procrastinator? Scurrying about at the last moment trying to pull it all together? Do the the details REALLY matter all THAT much? Do people REALLY notice? Would it be worth it just to laze about for months and weeks and days on end leading up to whatever the grand event, without a care or thought towards it. Just living in the moment not caring? Isn't a passing grade passing whether it's Satisfactory or Exemplary in the grand scheme of things equal and passing all the same? Why not put in just enough effort to make it work and relax?
O.K. Truth........Even typing that stressed me out. The mere idea stresses me out. Of COURSE the details matter. Planning ahead, thinking ahead, being strategic with my time and efforts, doing the best work I can and delivering a kick ass result, it's the only thing I know how to do. If it means you have to deal with bitch mode occasionally, then deal with it. I deal with your dirty socks, and all kinds of annoying habits. Do I sometimes wake from a dead sleep with a thought about a project I'm working on? Well of course, I do! Who doesn't!?!?!? This is life. It's why you love me and it's the balance I bring to my world of men who procrastinate the simple task of waking daily. What would they do without me.
Their universe keeps evolving because I plan it out for them.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
How's My Driving?...1-800-Xxxxxx
You really don't want me to answer that question or make that call. How many times Have I seen that sign on the back of the company van, or transport truck, and thought......If I answer that question honestly......You and your hapless brood are homeless because you are out of a job.
That's right....Your driving stinks. You can't change lanes, it's called a blind spot and you are supposed to check it for a reason, maybe you really are blind in which case...why are you driving? There are laws these days about texting and driving, just say no, go hands free or go without.
The little lines painted on the road are meant to help divide the road up evenly so everyone can share the space. You don't get to wander as you please. Those little lights on your tail bumper are accessed through controls on your wheel, they are called turn signals and help to tell the rest of us where you plan to go next. A little heads up is like an apple a day keeps the doctor away.
Speed limits are for a reason. Too slow and you are a giant barrier, too fast and you are a menace. You vascilate between the two like teenage girl between boyfriends.
Stop riding my bumper by the way. If you cant see the bottom of my rear wheel tires you are too close. Personal space buddy. While we are on the topic, stop riding your breaks. I understand the need for a safe following distance, but a football field between you and the car in front of you is a whee bit excessive.
The soda cup and fast food garbage you tossed out your window just now is called littering and there are fines for that. Not only should I report you to your employer, but how about the highway patrol?
Did you drink before you got in the drivers seat, because you are weaving all over the place? And your road rage, and attitude needs some serious adjusting. Next time you flip me off, I wont consider your rug rats before I make that call.
In summary....Your Driving is atrocious. I have no idea how you got your license, let alone how this became your career. For my safety and the safety of others, please remove yourself from behind the wheel and take public transit from here on in. At least there, you'll fit in with the rest of the mongrels.
That's right....Your driving stinks. You can't change lanes, it's called a blind spot and you are supposed to check it for a reason, maybe you really are blind in which case...why are you driving? There are laws these days about texting and driving, just say no, go hands free or go without.
The little lines painted on the road are meant to help divide the road up evenly so everyone can share the space. You don't get to wander as you please. Those little lights on your tail bumper are accessed through controls on your wheel, they are called turn signals and help to tell the rest of us where you plan to go next. A little heads up is like an apple a day keeps the doctor away.
Speed limits are for a reason. Too slow and you are a giant barrier, too fast and you are a menace. You vascilate between the two like teenage girl between boyfriends.
Stop riding my bumper by the way. If you cant see the bottom of my rear wheel tires you are too close. Personal space buddy. While we are on the topic, stop riding your breaks. I understand the need for a safe following distance, but a football field between you and the car in front of you is a whee bit excessive.
The soda cup and fast food garbage you tossed out your window just now is called littering and there are fines for that. Not only should I report you to your employer, but how about the highway patrol?
Did you drink before you got in the drivers seat, because you are weaving all over the place? And your road rage, and attitude needs some serious adjusting. Next time you flip me off, I wont consider your rug rats before I make that call.
In summary....Your Driving is atrocious. I have no idea how you got your license, let alone how this became your career. For my safety and the safety of others, please remove yourself from behind the wheel and take public transit from here on in. At least there, you'll fit in with the rest of the mongrels.
Is there Sense in Non-sense?
Once upon a time a man awoke on a cold winters day in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania and said
REALLY???? At what point did we lose all sense and pride and determine that a rodent in Pennsylvania could decide our seasons? Granted, its probably more accurate than most of our current network news meteorologists, but that's another story.....
Have you seen our weather lately. We in the northwest barely had a winter in 2014/15 let alone 6 more weeks. It's March and we are already hitting 70 degrees outside? I think the groundhog got it wrong. So what other nonsense are we batting about.
Well, non-sense overwhelms our general intelligence when it comes down to certain long standing superstitions. I want to to say I'm determined to break the rules on every single one of these, but then my "Do I really want to tempt fate" logic kicks in, and I find myself walking around the ladder again instead of under.
Beginners luck, no such thing, it's usually just the excuse given by a disgruntled veteran of the game who just lost to a newbie.
See a penny, pick it up.....do you know how many germs are on that penny? REALLY?! do you think your going to have good luck because you stooped over to pick it up? I truly don't think so. If anything the only luck your going to have in not getting the Ebola virus or malaria......moving on
My Nemesis...Don't walk under a ladder. It's actually very practical. I mean you could stumble and knock someone or something off and it could fall on you. However, that was not the original premise, it had to do with a religious belief about the holy trinity and the ladder and the wall forming a triangle and walking underneath it being blasphemous. I don't think God is on board with one. I'll stick with the safety explanation.
Crossing paths with a black cat is bad luck, well guess what, we have all done it. Black Cats are not evil. They are not ALL witches familiars (OK maybe some , but I'm sure so are some calico, and white, and Siamese and ......others). (jk). Cats are just aristocratic domestic animals who believe they have the right away...so yield.
Some others....Rabbits feet, now that's just cruel; Bad luck comes in threes, so do celebrity deaths; A broken mirror brings 7 of bad luck, luckily this one has a cure like touching a shard to a tombstone (that's right a tombstone) or grinding the shards into dust (try not to breathe that stuff in); There is the biblical fear of 666, however that would mean nobody would have called me at my lst home number (666-0111); Knock on Wood, Cross your fingers, Wish on a wishbone, No umbrellas inside (not even to dry), and of course...Friday the 13th. Did you know the number 13 is considered so unlucky that hotels don't have a 13th floor? They go from 12 to 14. It's true. Stupid.....but true.
There might nuggets of sense in some nonsense, but most of it is just the human need for answers when they cant explain the unknown. Sometimes logic defies, sometimes logic is the most simple answer, and sometimes there is no answer. You stubbed your toe because you walked into the table, not because you crossed paths with a black cat.
"I wonder how much longer this winter is going to last".So he pulled on his long johns, big rubber boots, and after chugging down a jar of moonshine (because the only way someone is going to trust a rodent is if they are drunk), he dug in the hard frozen ground, found a giant rodent, yanked his flea bitten hide up, held him in the sunshine to see if he could see his shadow, and said dagnabbit that's another six week of winter. and Ground hog day was born. True story.
REALLY???? At what point did we lose all sense and pride and determine that a rodent in Pennsylvania could decide our seasons? Granted, its probably more accurate than most of our current network news meteorologists, but that's another story....."Golly Ethyl, I betcha that groundhog can tell us what the weathers gonna be"NON-SENSE
Have you seen our weather lately. We in the northwest barely had a winter in 2014/15 let alone 6 more weeks. It's March and we are already hitting 70 degrees outside? I think the groundhog got it wrong. So what other nonsense are we batting about.
Well, non-sense overwhelms our general intelligence when it comes down to certain long standing superstitions. I want to to say I'm determined to break the rules on every single one of these, but then my "Do I really want to tempt fate" logic kicks in, and I find myself walking around the ladder again instead of under.
Beginners luck, no such thing, it's usually just the excuse given by a disgruntled veteran of the game who just lost to a newbie.
See a penny, pick it up.....do you know how many germs are on that penny? REALLY?! do you think your going to have good luck because you stooped over to pick it up? I truly don't think so. If anything the only luck your going to have in not getting the Ebola virus or malaria......moving on
My Nemesis...Don't walk under a ladder. It's actually very practical. I mean you could stumble and knock someone or something off and it could fall on you. However, that was not the original premise, it had to do with a religious belief about the holy trinity and the ladder and the wall forming a triangle and walking underneath it being blasphemous. I don't think God is on board with one. I'll stick with the safety explanation.
Crossing paths with a black cat is bad luck, well guess what, we have all done it. Black Cats are not evil. They are not ALL witches familiars (OK maybe some , but I'm sure so are some calico, and white, and Siamese and ......others). (jk). Cats are just aristocratic domestic animals who believe they have the right away...so yield.
Some others....Rabbits feet, now that's just cruel; Bad luck comes in threes, so do celebrity deaths; A broken mirror brings 7 of bad luck, luckily this one has a cure like touching a shard to a tombstone (that's right a tombstone) or grinding the shards into dust (try not to breathe that stuff in); There is the biblical fear of 666, however that would mean nobody would have called me at my lst home number (666-0111); Knock on Wood, Cross your fingers, Wish on a wishbone, No umbrellas inside (not even to dry), and of course...Friday the 13th. Did you know the number 13 is considered so unlucky that hotels don't have a 13th floor? They go from 12 to 14. It's true. Stupid.....but true.
There might nuggets of sense in some nonsense, but most of it is just the human need for answers when they cant explain the unknown. Sometimes logic defies, sometimes logic is the most simple answer, and sometimes there is no answer. You stubbed your toe because you walked into the table, not because you crossed paths with a black cat.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
What Can mend a Broken Heart..........
The human heart is an interesting thing. The size of your fist, it sits in your chest guarded in a cage of bone meant to protect it and shield it as it miraculously provides life, blood, oxygen, warmth....the human heart is a miracle and yet as fragile as it is powerful.
It is chambers and valves and arteries, a system that must work together in flawless synchronicity in order to maintain longevity and hope. When one part fails it sets off a chain reaction impacting all the others parts of the system in which every part must assume extra responsibility for the burden of the work no longer supported. Every part of the system becomes stressed and overtaxed and begins to breakdown.
Like any good factory the key is to ensure that all parts are functioning and when one fails, you must find a way to compensate for it or repair it without overwhelming the rest of the team. It's not always easy or even possible.
Sometimes a system breaks and there is nothing you can do to fix it short of a complete overhaul.
The human heart is like this. Both literally and figuratively.
Not only do we face these challenges in real life health crisis', tangible and measurable. But we also face them on an less physical and more emotional level at times.
The emotional broken heart, is actually more in the brain and the mind but it can still cause physical manifestations of pain in the chest. We don't use the term "I love you with all my brain" we say "I love you with all my Heart". The heart is the symbol we have chosen to represent our feelings of affection because it represents our blood line and our life line.. Do you know that the reason you wear a wedding ring on your left third finger (also known as the "ring finger") is because there is a vein in that finger that runs directly to the heart?
Sometimes mending a broken heart is about taking the time to heal, physically and emotionally. It's about focusing all your energies on the positive and envisioning a happy ending. See where you want to be and make it happen. See a healthy happy you and go there. Do whatever is necessary to mend your heart. No holds barred.
Chambers, Valves, Arteries, or invisible fields of overwhelming emotions, identify the issue, and if it's within your power to fix it, take control and make it happen.
Its your life....Live it like you mean it. Only you can Mend Your Broken Heart. You are in Control!
It is chambers and valves and arteries, a system that must work together in flawless synchronicity in order to maintain longevity and hope. When one part fails it sets off a chain reaction impacting all the others parts of the system in which every part must assume extra responsibility for the burden of the work no longer supported. Every part of the system becomes stressed and overtaxed and begins to breakdown.
Like any good factory the key is to ensure that all parts are functioning and when one fails, you must find a way to compensate for it or repair it without overwhelming the rest of the team. It's not always easy or even possible.
Sometimes a system breaks and there is nothing you can do to fix it short of a complete overhaul.
The human heart is like this. Both literally and figuratively.
Not only do we face these challenges in real life health crisis', tangible and measurable. But we also face them on an less physical and more emotional level at times.
The emotional broken heart, is actually more in the brain and the mind but it can still cause physical manifestations of pain in the chest. We don't use the term "I love you with all my brain" we say "I love you with all my Heart". The heart is the symbol we have chosen to represent our feelings of affection because it represents our blood line and our life line.. Do you know that the reason you wear a wedding ring on your left third finger (also known as the "ring finger") is because there is a vein in that finger that runs directly to the heart?
Sometimes mending a broken heart is about taking the time to heal, physically and emotionally. It's about focusing all your energies on the positive and envisioning a happy ending. See where you want to be and make it happen. See a healthy happy you and go there. Do whatever is necessary to mend your heart. No holds barred.
Chambers, Valves, Arteries, or invisible fields of overwhelming emotions, identify the issue, and if it's within your power to fix it, take control and make it happen.
Its your life....Live it like you mean it. Only you can Mend Your Broken Heart. You are in Control!
Fairytale Creature Master Counsel.....
Dear Santa, Tooth-fairy, St. Patrick, Easter Bunny, Sand Man, Mother Nature, Father Time, Jack Frost, and all others who may or may not actually exist and may or may not sit on the Fairy Tale Creature Master Counsel, I have a few complaints to issue with you and hope that you can resolve them quickly.
First up...Santa. I did my part. I believed in you, I kept the spirit of 'Santa' alive. I taught my sons about you. I still make them go to bed before you arrive to fill their stockings. So why am I doing all the damn work. Show up dude. A little gratitude would be great. Throw a girl a bone. I've been doing this a long time, and unlike you, I actually age. I can't always do it all alone. Every once in a while finding something under the tree or in the stockings I didn't buy myself would be a great boost. It would let me know your watching and your pleased with all my hard work. Your welcome by the way.
Tooth-fairy - what is with inflation? Keep it simple. Don't let these entitled kids get greedy on you or they'll cut into my social security senior citizen tooth loss fund. I've been waiting a long time to cash in. Don't give it all away before I get the chance to enjoy my soft food and denture years. It could be a few decades still, my teeth are pretty healthy and I'm counting on you.
St. Patrick - Where is my pot of gold? I'd even settle for silver. I've seen literally hundreds of rainbows and never found it. Is it just another cruel prank by the gingers? At the very least give me the luck I'm supposed to get with a four leaf clover and help me win a pot of gold at the next casino I go to or something. I go out of my way to celebrate you every year and I'm not even Irish. Are you offended at our interpretation of you as a leprechaun? Tell me what to do to make this right so I can get my pot-o-gold. Call me...K?
Easter Bunny - Its been decades since I had an Easter Basket, but a golden egg with a nice cash bonus for each of the boys in their baskets, I can get behind that one. See I can be selfless. I'll leave and extra bundle of carrots for you, organic this year.
As for the rest of you; Mother Nature - good weather please; Father Time - slow it down just a bit; Sand Man - some solid sleep is always a good gift; and Jack Frost - what the hell happened to our Northwest winter 2014/15. Next year you'd better do your job or we might have to fire you.
Enough said. I know being at the same job day in and day out year after year can sometimes cause apathy. If things don't improve we might try some job sharing strategies. Cross training and swapping of roles might be just what each of you need to sharpen your senses and rejuvenate your enthusiasm. Santa might look good in the tooth fairy costume?
Last warning.
First up...Santa. I did my part. I believed in you, I kept the spirit of 'Santa' alive. I taught my sons about you. I still make them go to bed before you arrive to fill their stockings. So why am I doing all the damn work. Show up dude. A little gratitude would be great. Throw a girl a bone. I've been doing this a long time, and unlike you, I actually age. I can't always do it all alone. Every once in a while finding something under the tree or in the stockings I didn't buy myself would be a great boost. It would let me know your watching and your pleased with all my hard work. Your welcome by the way.
Tooth-fairy - what is with inflation? Keep it simple. Don't let these entitled kids get greedy on you or they'll cut into my social security senior citizen tooth loss fund. I've been waiting a long time to cash in. Don't give it all away before I get the chance to enjoy my soft food and denture years. It could be a few decades still, my teeth are pretty healthy and I'm counting on you.
St. Patrick - Where is my pot of gold? I'd even settle for silver. I've seen literally hundreds of rainbows and never found it. Is it just another cruel prank by the gingers? At the very least give me the luck I'm supposed to get with a four leaf clover and help me win a pot of gold at the next casino I go to or something. I go out of my way to celebrate you every year and I'm not even Irish. Are you offended at our interpretation of you as a leprechaun? Tell me what to do to make this right so I can get my pot-o-gold. Call me...K?
Easter Bunny - Its been decades since I had an Easter Basket, but a golden egg with a nice cash bonus for each of the boys in their baskets, I can get behind that one. See I can be selfless. I'll leave and extra bundle of carrots for you, organic this year.
As for the rest of you; Mother Nature - good weather please; Father Time - slow it down just a bit; Sand Man - some solid sleep is always a good gift; and Jack Frost - what the hell happened to our Northwest winter 2014/15. Next year you'd better do your job or we might have to fire you.
Enough said. I know being at the same job day in and day out year after year can sometimes cause apathy. If things don't improve we might try some job sharing strategies. Cross training and swapping of roles might be just what each of you need to sharpen your senses and rejuvenate your enthusiasm. Santa might look good in the tooth fairy costume?
Last warning.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
No Shirt, No Shoes, No.......Just pull your pants up
I genuinely hoped the age of gangsta pants was over. Hasn't it run it's course yet? I know trends rise and fall....isn't it time for this one to go back into the vault, never to be seen again.....I pray......please....to all the powers that be and the universe in general?!?!
I love seeing young men wearing pants that fit them. Or at least wearing a belt and trying to keep them up if their still in that awkward limbo stage where their too skinny for their height and have no butt or body fat to speak of. For a while everywhere I looked as I drove through the neighborhoods and streets of our fair cities were teenagers and young adults with saggy pants showing off their boxers and briefs with pride....or was that stupidity? It was as if they were purchasing size 42 jeans for the men they planned to become someday when their lazy devil may care attitudes finally found them looking at 300 lb reflections in the mirror. And then suddenly one day, I thought the fad was over, but it seems to be making a resurgence.
A smart consumer choice I suppose. Economical to buy pants you can wear at any weight, just set a style trend...right? But this particular trend is really offensive. No not like bell bottoms or leg warmers or even big 80's hair, this style choice triggers the desire in me to pull my car over and throat punch somebody. I have an overwhelming urge to put a boot in someones hiney hole and smack them hard against the forehead and say "As if". I mean honestly, how fast can they really run with their pants around their ankles?
Perhaps a good zap with my stun gun will spark some brain cells back to life and they will remember that appearances DO matter.
I'm going to start driving around with my car windows down and simply yell through a bull horn "Pull up your pants". Maybe that will help? A little social conscience never hurt anyone...right?
Oh, and by the way, put a shirt on, wash your damn hair, take a shower, and use deodorant. You smell like the butt crack of humanity.
New style trend....starting today....pants that fit, belts, and good hygiene. America is supposed to be the land of opportunity, it's time we started to look the part.
I love seeing young men wearing pants that fit them. Or at least wearing a belt and trying to keep them up if their still in that awkward limbo stage where their too skinny for their height and have no butt or body fat to speak of. For a while everywhere I looked as I drove through the neighborhoods and streets of our fair cities were teenagers and young adults with saggy pants showing off their boxers and briefs with pride....or was that stupidity? It was as if they were purchasing size 42 jeans for the men they planned to become someday when their lazy devil may care attitudes finally found them looking at 300 lb reflections in the mirror. And then suddenly one day, I thought the fad was over, but it seems to be making a resurgence.
A smart consumer choice I suppose. Economical to buy pants you can wear at any weight, just set a style trend...right? But this particular trend is really offensive. No not like bell bottoms or leg warmers or even big 80's hair, this style choice triggers the desire in me to pull my car over and throat punch somebody. I have an overwhelming urge to put a boot in someones hiney hole and smack them hard against the forehead and say "As if". I mean honestly, how fast can they really run with their pants around their ankles?
Perhaps a good zap with my stun gun will spark some brain cells back to life and they will remember that appearances DO matter.
I'm going to start driving around with my car windows down and simply yell through a bull horn "Pull up your pants". Maybe that will help? A little social conscience never hurt anyone...right?
Oh, and by the way, put a shirt on, wash your damn hair, take a shower, and use deodorant. You smell like the butt crack of humanity.
New style trend....starting today....pants that fit, belts, and good hygiene. America is supposed to be the land of opportunity, it's time we started to look the part.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Putting the Past Behind You....
Is it REALLY possible to put the past behind us. To wake up and pretend that all the bad things that have come before simply no longer exists? Is it possible to wipe the slate and move forward never to revisit old wounds or pains left unresolved. Would you even consider such an offer with all the wonderful things in your life? Probably not.
Is it possible that Time truly does heal all wounds, or does it merely put enough distance between us and them to help build an invisible patch of numbness and apathy?
If you address pain, face it, confront it and resolve it then you find closure and moving on becomes natural. You can find a peace and comfort that allows you moments absent of ache, and those moments begin to span greater and greater distance and time. You gain an understanding that life has a purpose, grander even than our small grasp and understanding, but we have to go with it.
However, to allow the pretense of second or third or multiples of parties, that wrong was never done, is to pretend that specific pockets in time never existed. Every choice we make, every action we take has consequences both positive and negative, and life is about facing those consequences. Accepting them and allowing them to teach us and mold us and guide us into who and what we will become. Life is a never ending journey of learning. The day we stop learning, is the day we die.
To make or accept an offer of putting the past behind us and pretending it never happened, never to speak of it again, is to live in denial and to fail at life's basic premise. To Learn.
Does it make me a cold and heartless human being that I may not be willing to gift someone their desire for the past to be put behind us, never to be spoken of again. It seems the cowards way out to me. A way not to face ones own choices and the consequences thereof. My own principles scream against the mockery this makes of our mortal mission to learn and grow, and yet my compassion says just give them this one. I can pretend....but the truth is, the past will always be there even if I don't speak of it. I can forgive, but I will never forget, and trust cannot be earned by someone unwilling to face and accept their choices.
You can't undo what has already been done. You can't unsay what has already been said. Time can't be reversed, you can't make right what you want to pretend never happened.
The only true way to put the past behind you is to turn your back and walk away or.......... to face it, deal with it, accept and acknowledge it, and then move forward. Two real choices, that's all there are. Pretending is not on the list.
Is it possible that Time truly does heal all wounds, or does it merely put enough distance between us and them to help build an invisible patch of numbness and apathy?
If you address pain, face it, confront it and resolve it then you find closure and moving on becomes natural. You can find a peace and comfort that allows you moments absent of ache, and those moments begin to span greater and greater distance and time. You gain an understanding that life has a purpose, grander even than our small grasp and understanding, but we have to go with it.
However, to allow the pretense of second or third or multiples of parties, that wrong was never done, is to pretend that specific pockets in time never existed. Every choice we make, every action we take has consequences both positive and negative, and life is about facing those consequences. Accepting them and allowing them to teach us and mold us and guide us into who and what we will become. Life is a never ending journey of learning. The day we stop learning, is the day we die.
To make or accept an offer of putting the past behind us and pretending it never happened, never to speak of it again, is to live in denial and to fail at life's basic premise. To Learn.
Does it make me a cold and heartless human being that I may not be willing to gift someone their desire for the past to be put behind us, never to be spoken of again. It seems the cowards way out to me. A way not to face ones own choices and the consequences thereof. My own principles scream against the mockery this makes of our mortal mission to learn and grow, and yet my compassion says just give them this one. I can pretend....but the truth is, the past will always be there even if I don't speak of it. I can forgive, but I will never forget, and trust cannot be earned by someone unwilling to face and accept their choices.
You can't undo what has already been done. You can't unsay what has already been said. Time can't be reversed, you can't make right what you want to pretend never happened.
The only true way to put the past behind you is to turn your back and walk away or.......... to face it, deal with it, accept and acknowledge it, and then move forward. Two real choices, that's all there are. Pretending is not on the list.
Monday, March 9, 2015
The Best......
Sometimes the best moments in life are the simplest. They come as easy as breathing. O.k. maybe not the best analogy but you understand what I'm saying...right. Sometimes happiness comes from just.......being in the moment. Your sons sent you texts that said " thanks mom" and "I love you". The stranger at the grocery store complimented your ensemble today. The love of your life brought you flowers, for no reason and for every reason, just because. You read the best book, and it had a GREAT ending. Your pro-times test came in at a good range today. Spring came early and the daffodils and crocus are already in bloom.
Sometimes the best moments are an afternoon spent playing scrabble, or some other board game. Maybe an evening spent watching a comedy and laughing together. Sometimes the best moments are about sharing a homemade favorite meal, or dining out at a new chinese restaurant and actually liking it.
Sometimes its curling up in your pajamas under a warm blanket with mans best friend curled up on your lap, around your shoulders, next to your hip, and across your feet (because I have 4 of them), while the house is empty and they are your companions for the evening.
Sometimes the best moments in life are unpredictable excitement, and sometimes they are silent reverie, no fanfare, no hoopla, just quiet, beautiful and magical all on their own.
Sometimes, the best moments in life, are just about.....well.........Life.
Sometimes the best moments are an afternoon spent playing scrabble, or some other board game. Maybe an evening spent watching a comedy and laughing together. Sometimes the best moments are about sharing a homemade favorite meal, or dining out at a new chinese restaurant and actually liking it.
Sometimes its curling up in your pajamas under a warm blanket with mans best friend curled up on your lap, around your shoulders, next to your hip, and across your feet (because I have 4 of them), while the house is empty and they are your companions for the evening.
Sometimes the best moments in life are unpredictable excitement, and sometimes they are silent reverie, no fanfare, no hoopla, just quiet, beautiful and magical all on their own.
Sometimes, the best moments in life, are just about.....well.........Life.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Warp Speed Ahead
I keep stretching to find the brake pedal on life and realize that this adventure comes without one. There is no pause button, no mute, no rewind, no slow motion......it is all out balls to the walls every second of everyday and we are meant to hold on and enjoy the ride.
Though it's true sometimes my ride has been a carousel horse, more times it's the crazy tea cups, or the famous Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. These days I am on a speed demon roller coaster cornering and corkscrews, 360 degree twists and turns.
Time has moved into warp speed. My amazing sons are no longer little boys who need their mom, but young men beginning to build their own lives and forging their own paths. I keep calling my four dogs "babies" but the truth is even the "babies" are 6 years old this year; mommy will be 10 and daddy will be 11. Not EXACTLY babies in the dogsphere. Jeff and I just celebrated 9 years together......WHAT?!?!?!? are you sure? Yes...Nine. Time seems to be moving at a pace quicker than it should.
It's as if at night when I fall asleep someone presses the fast forward button and I wake to to find myself further and further in the future with every sunrise. But wait...that's how it's supposed to work...right? I want to slow it down, and I'm helpless to do so. I want to hit Pause or stop and the buttons don't exist. I want to slam the brakes on but I can't find the damn pedal. Its frustrating. All I can do is smile and hold on and hope to enjoy every second and not miss a thing. I have to remember to put on my 360 vision everyday to ensure I see it all. This ride is quick and sometimes scary, but usually makes me giggle and laugh so hard my sides ache.
Just yesterday Brandon was 13 and Wyatt was 9 and we were in my midnight blue ford expedition making our move to the Northwest. It was New Years 2006 and we were starting over. This morning I woke up and it is February 2015, Brandon is 22, Wyatt is 18, and the northwest has been our home for now over 9 years. Warp Speed, Tomorrow they'll be married with children and I'll be gone.
Life moves forward. Enjoy the ride.
Though it's true sometimes my ride has been a carousel horse, more times it's the crazy tea cups, or the famous Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. These days I am on a speed demon roller coaster cornering and corkscrews, 360 degree twists and turns.
Time has moved into warp speed. My amazing sons are no longer little boys who need their mom, but young men beginning to build their own lives and forging their own paths. I keep calling my four dogs "babies" but the truth is even the "babies" are 6 years old this year; mommy will be 10 and daddy will be 11. Not EXACTLY babies in the dogsphere. Jeff and I just celebrated 9 years together......WHAT?!?!?!? are you sure? Yes...Nine. Time seems to be moving at a pace quicker than it should.
It's as if at night when I fall asleep someone presses the fast forward button and I wake to to find myself further and further in the future with every sunrise. But wait...that's how it's supposed to work...right? I want to slow it down, and I'm helpless to do so. I want to hit Pause or stop and the buttons don't exist. I want to slam the brakes on but I can't find the damn pedal. Its frustrating. All I can do is smile and hold on and hope to enjoy every second and not miss a thing. I have to remember to put on my 360 vision everyday to ensure I see it all. This ride is quick and sometimes scary, but usually makes me giggle and laugh so hard my sides ache.
Just yesterday Brandon was 13 and Wyatt was 9 and we were in my midnight blue ford expedition making our move to the Northwest. It was New Years 2006 and we were starting over. This morning I woke up and it is February 2015, Brandon is 22, Wyatt is 18, and the northwest has been our home for now over 9 years. Warp Speed, Tomorrow they'll be married with children and I'll be gone.
Life moves forward. Enjoy the ride.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Human Remains
Have you ever walked up to a bathroom sink, reached for the faucet, looked down at the basin, and found yourself mortified and nearly unable to finish the task of washing your hands, preferring instead to use the trusty hand sanitizer you keep in your purse, pocket, car door, coat, and hidden away in every cache' imaginable for just such an emergency, due to the unsightly and alarming amount of human hairs - both stubble and lengthy, mixed with toothpaste glob, and some other mucus like mixture left by those who preceded you to the facility? Even if only one of the aforementioned anomalies is present, it is such an assault on the senses and psyche that you are scarred for the day and left to your own devices for ensuring your personal health and sanitizing.
What about the shared work kitchen space, and the food remnants that cling to the stainless steel sides and seemingly clog the drain spout. What was that, bread? rice? tofu? some kind of meat by-product? What is that smell? Why?
What is it about public spaces that make people think...I know, I'll just leave my mess for someone else to deal with. Or maybe...that's what their home is like.....excuse me while I take a moment....I think I just threw up in my mouth and I don't want to spit and leave it in the sink.
This is why I avoid public restrooms and shared kitchen spaces. This is why I fight the urge to go during the day and I am obsessively prepared with my hand sanitizers and baby wipes. This is why I never made a good roommate with others, or shared space with people as a young adult. The simple task of rinsing a toilet bowl, a sink basin, running a garbage disposal, or wiping up behind ones self, takes no effort and shows immense courtesy to those who follow. No one wants to share in your phlegm, your bloody toothpaste, the stubble from your chin, the stray hairs from god only knows where. We have no desire to taste test or smell the food particles from this mornings breakfast, or yesterdays lunch, or heaven forbid the curdled milk you left sitting at your desk all week. Is that mold in your coffee cup?
Be it the work place, or shared home space, courtesy is kindness and it goes a long way. If it were in the lease or on your job performance review and tied to a financial penalty or reward, you can be damn sure people might take it more seriously. How about doing it, just because it's the right thing.
What about the shared work kitchen space, and the food remnants that cling to the stainless steel sides and seemingly clog the drain spout. What was that, bread? rice? tofu? some kind of meat by-product? What is that smell? Why?
What is it about public spaces that make people think...I know, I'll just leave my mess for someone else to deal with. Or maybe...that's what their home is like.....excuse me while I take a moment....I think I just threw up in my mouth and I don't want to spit and leave it in the sink.
This is why I avoid public restrooms and shared kitchen spaces. This is why I fight the urge to go during the day and I am obsessively prepared with my hand sanitizers and baby wipes. This is why I never made a good roommate with others, or shared space with people as a young adult. The simple task of rinsing a toilet bowl, a sink basin, running a garbage disposal, or wiping up behind ones self, takes no effort and shows immense courtesy to those who follow. No one wants to share in your phlegm, your bloody toothpaste, the stubble from your chin, the stray hairs from god only knows where. We have no desire to taste test or smell the food particles from this mornings breakfast, or yesterdays lunch, or heaven forbid the curdled milk you left sitting at your desk all week. Is that mold in your coffee cup?
Be it the work place, or shared home space, courtesy is kindness and it goes a long way. If it were in the lease or on your job performance review and tied to a financial penalty or reward, you can be damn sure people might take it more seriously. How about doing it, just because it's the right thing.
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