Family is more than a happenstance of genetic slap and tickle. Two teens in the backseat of moms car on the aqueduct one summer night in the 60's and wham bam, you've got a bundle of baby joy. Instant family. Family is not about who put whose peter in whose who-ha and made an oopsey. Those are genetics. Blood ties....yes; family by the neo traditional sense...sure; but family is not about the petri dish.
When you think of family it should not inspire anxiety, tension, anger, depression, resentment, irritation, a cold detached feeling, or an otherwise need to either arm ones self with battle armour or plan ones own death to disappear and live life on the lamb. Images of a torture chamber are not appropriate either figuratively or literally.
If the idea of spending Easter Sunday with a family member makes you heave uncontrollably and curl up in the corner in the fetal position, then perhaps its time to rethink the concept and perception of family and how we interpret its meaning in the greater context of our lives.
In adulthood, when we find our partners, and marry or commit to them in other non traditional ways, we chose to make them family. Family is a choice therefore that we can make. It's not blood, or chromosomes. It's heart, and mind, and body, and soul. Our family is who we chose it to be. It can be your siblings, or not. It can be your friends, your neighbors, or whomever you chose. And the beauty is they chose you back.
With this concept, our families can be as big or as small as we make them. They can grow and shrink and grow again. They are ever changing, ever evolving, to fill the needs of our lives as each year goes by. Family in this form is uplifting, reaffirming, inspirational, and full of love and hope. We are never alone unless we chose to be.
My family is larger now than it has ever been, and I am blessed and loved and ever so grateful. To all of my sisters and brothers and cousins and moms and daughters and sons, to each of you friends above all else, blood ties or not, you are my family by Choice and I have impeccable taste.
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.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Difficult for the Sake of Being Difficult
We all know them. We all have them in our lives. Personal, professional, mildly transcendentally connected twice removed. But they are there. Those individuals who simply are not content unless they are discontent and makings others lives chaotic. It's an absurdity that happiness can come from unhappiness, but for these odd fellows, that is exactly where they thrive. Its what wakes them every day, motivates them forward, and lets them sleep like the dead at night.
The idea of derailing something magnificent is invigorating and awe inspiring to the muckrakers. They sow seeds of distrust and doubt wherever they go and hope to see them grow. They are fire starters, running around like little devils lighting embers hoping something catches and creates a cataclysmic event. Mostly, those of us who are sane, just see them as maniacal lunatics. Trouble makers. Obstructionists. Willing to stand in the way of progress simply for the sake of standing still.
It's likely due to a bevvy of character flaws, not the least of which is a need to feel power and control over something. So... they grab it in the most destructive way they can. Killing them with kindness only makes them more paranoid and suspicious. Ignoring them, ignites vengeance.
Tell them the sky is blue and they will debate the spectrum of light with you simply to prove themselves superior. Go to a restaurant and they will place inane requests and demands followed by inexcusable rudeness to the staff. They are knowledgeable on every topic, but masters of none, though they will insist quite the opposite and debate it until you simply concede just to shut them up.
The difficult for the sake of being difficult come in all sizes and shapes, all ages, all walks of life. They may be loved ones, coworkers, distant relatives, neighbors, or passing acquaintances, but they are all around us. They simply aren't comfortable being content and happy like the rest of us. Instead, their calm comes from chaos. Stirring the pot, and watching as the rest of the world reacts to what they have created. For us, it creates challenge, keeps us on our toes, but we manage and somehow always seem to smile. For them, each challenge that doesn't break us simply makes them crazier. Eventually they move from one cause to another, sometimes circling back. But...since failure is difficult to accept, they simply ignore it and find another cause to focus their negative energy on.
I know I can be difficult, but it is isolated, and with intent, and it has purpose. A beginning and an end. I am not difficult for the sake of being difficult. I much prefer to focus on the positive.
The idea of derailing something magnificent is invigorating and awe inspiring to the muckrakers. They sow seeds of distrust and doubt wherever they go and hope to see them grow. They are fire starters, running around like little devils lighting embers hoping something catches and creates a cataclysmic event. Mostly, those of us who are sane, just see them as maniacal lunatics. Trouble makers. Obstructionists. Willing to stand in the way of progress simply for the sake of standing still.
It's likely due to a bevvy of character flaws, not the least of which is a need to feel power and control over something. So... they grab it in the most destructive way they can. Killing them with kindness only makes them more paranoid and suspicious. Ignoring them, ignites vengeance.
Tell them the sky is blue and they will debate the spectrum of light with you simply to prove themselves superior. Go to a restaurant and they will place inane requests and demands followed by inexcusable rudeness to the staff. They are knowledgeable on every topic, but masters of none, though they will insist quite the opposite and debate it until you simply concede just to shut them up.
The difficult for the sake of being difficult come in all sizes and shapes, all ages, all walks of life. They may be loved ones, coworkers, distant relatives, neighbors, or passing acquaintances, but they are all around us. They simply aren't comfortable being content and happy like the rest of us. Instead, their calm comes from chaos. Stirring the pot, and watching as the rest of the world reacts to what they have created. For us, it creates challenge, keeps us on our toes, but we manage and somehow always seem to smile. For them, each challenge that doesn't break us simply makes them crazier. Eventually they move from one cause to another, sometimes circling back. But...since failure is difficult to accept, they simply ignore it and find another cause to focus their negative energy on.
I know I can be difficult, but it is isolated, and with intent, and it has purpose. A beginning and an end. I am not difficult for the sake of being difficult. I much prefer to focus on the positive.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Cantankerous, Cranky, Crabby Pants
Not Me! Never Me! It might however be genetic? Maybe? I think they get it from their father. I've never been that nasty in the morning........well at least not without provocation.
Waking up on the wrong side of the bed doesn't even begin to describe it. Granted I was waking him two hours prior to his necessary waking time to ensure he had set his alarm to wake up on time. I know it sounds a bit absurd, but it is a necessary evil. You see if I don't go through this morning ritual, and sometimes even when I do, he oversleeps and is tardy for school. I can't be there to wake him up when he really needs it because I myself need to be at work. So I wake him earlier, taking him from his deep slumber to a morning light sleep, as he lazily waits til the last minute to bustle about only to arrive on campus with mere seconds before the bell rings.
And what do I get for my loving and gentle prodding efforts each day? That's right...cantankerous, cranky, and crabby pants. "Get out of my room". "Are you just going to stand there?" (usually in response following a "no" to the the question of "Did you set your alarm?", and the instruct of "Well you better set it now"). I rarely, actually..... never receive a "Thanks mom". Though I think one is in order since I am assisting to ensure detention is avoided.
It could simply be the fact that he's 17, or that he has a severe case of senioritas (no that is isn't the female form in Spanish it's the medical term for sick of school in his senior year).
As for me, I only experience mild cases of Cantankerous, Cranky, and Crabby Pants and mine can occur anytime during the day, however seem to be more isolated to the evening hours following a long day at work upon arriving home to a disheveled house whereupon the previous mentioned 17 year old has failed to pick up after himself. It usually passes quickly after I take a few deep breaths and relax for approximately 30 minutes following the initial pick up phase.
It might also be noteworthy to mention that I experience mild cases following periods of sleep in which I have irritating dreams and people (specifically said 17 year old or Jeff) do really stupid things that require me to respond in a cantankerous, cranky, and crabby pants way.
Regardless, I am certain that he has inherited his from his father. Though Jeff also has shown signs of the same disorder in its most extreme form on occasion. Perhaps it's a viral strain. Something airborne? Should we panic. Is it more widespread than just our home? Maybe I should investigate a little more.
Waking up on the wrong side of the bed doesn't even begin to describe it. Granted I was waking him two hours prior to his necessary waking time to ensure he had set his alarm to wake up on time. I know it sounds a bit absurd, but it is a necessary evil. You see if I don't go through this morning ritual, and sometimes even when I do, he oversleeps and is tardy for school. I can't be there to wake him up when he really needs it because I myself need to be at work. So I wake him earlier, taking him from his deep slumber to a morning light sleep, as he lazily waits til the last minute to bustle about only to arrive on campus with mere seconds before the bell rings.
And what do I get for my loving and gentle prodding efforts each day? That's right...cantankerous, cranky, and crabby pants. "Get out of my room". "Are you just going to stand there?" (usually in response following a "no" to the the question of "Did you set your alarm?", and the instruct of "Well you better set it now"). I rarely, actually..... never receive a "Thanks mom". Though I think one is in order since I am assisting to ensure detention is avoided.
It could simply be the fact that he's 17, or that he has a severe case of senioritas (no that is isn't the female form in Spanish it's the medical term for sick of school in his senior year).
As for me, I only experience mild cases of Cantankerous, Cranky, and Crabby Pants and mine can occur anytime during the day, however seem to be more isolated to the evening hours following a long day at work upon arriving home to a disheveled house whereupon the previous mentioned 17 year old has failed to pick up after himself. It usually passes quickly after I take a few deep breaths and relax for approximately 30 minutes following the initial pick up phase.
It might also be noteworthy to mention that I experience mild cases following periods of sleep in which I have irritating dreams and people (specifically said 17 year old or Jeff) do really stupid things that require me to respond in a cantankerous, cranky, and crabby pants way.
Regardless, I am certain that he has inherited his from his father. Though Jeff also has shown signs of the same disorder in its most extreme form on occasion. Perhaps it's a viral strain. Something airborne? Should we panic. Is it more widespread than just our home? Maybe I should investigate a little more.
Monday, February 24, 2014
Practicality and Love - The Perfect Pair
When you're young, love is all about the butterflies in your stomach and the flush in your cheeks. It's about lust, and tingles, and desire. Love is about dreams of the future and a life yet to come and building something together.
Young love is sweet and pure. It is untainted by life's tragedies, and betrayals, it is kind and forgiving. You trust it will endure whatever challenges lay ahead and that it can survive and strengthen over time.
For many, sadly, young love... first love, doesn't last. Only the few are fortunate enough to endure through the ages, but the majority are trial and error. And as we age, so does the love we seek and find.
Love for me is still sweet and thoughtful, but its also about practicality. I am a logical thinker, so like most things in my life, this decision too must be logical. Warm and fuzzy only gets you so far at our age. Like a bed slipper, it wears out fast in the cold of winter. It's time to think with our heads, and let our hearts take a break. They have worked long and hard.
I love Jeff, but gone are the days of my early 20 when I lived for the man in my life and my thoughts and needs took a back seat. Love this time around is a partnership. Its about give and take. If there are inequalities in one area they are balanced in another. We are equally responsible to be there for each other emotionally and physically. To help through illness and recovery. To watch each others dietary needs and exercise. We clean house together, chores are separated by skill. Its more practical for him to clean the bathroom so that I can avoid the extreme retch factor I have developed over the years since my boys out grew diapers. He does the vacuuming and I do the detail work. I put things in their place, and dust, and clean, while he does the big ticket heavy duty items.
We both wear clothes so the practical thing to do is to share the job. He washes and dries. I fold and put away. Its all about big picture and finishing details.
Kitchen clean up. He's everyday dishes, I'm counters and fine china.
Love is still sweet, like when he takes my shoes off at night for me, or ties them in the morning, or when holds my hand as I take the stairs and gives me his arm as I rise from a booth in the restaurant. Its still charming and full of comfort when he cuddles up to say goodnight or stands at the door to wave to me each morning as I leave for work. But it's practical and logical too.
It thinks about social security, life insurance, advance directives, living wills, burial plots and plans. Love these days isn't afraid to venture to topics and places where young love never thinks to go. It is practical and logical.......it has to be.
If I been more practical and logical all along life would have been very different. But then again, I wouldn't have experienced the adventures or garnered the wisdom I now claim as my own. Love comes at different stages and it morphs along the way. If we are lucky we are with the same person our entire lives as it grows and changes, but if luck is not on our side....we see each stage anew in each relationship we have as we grow and learn.
Chhese and wine, Chocolate and peanut butter, Practicality and Love, Logic and Partnership, Jeff & Lisa - these are perfect pairs.
Young love is sweet and pure. It is untainted by life's tragedies, and betrayals, it is kind and forgiving. You trust it will endure whatever challenges lay ahead and that it can survive and strengthen over time.
For many, sadly, young love... first love, doesn't last. Only the few are fortunate enough to endure through the ages, but the majority are trial and error. And as we age, so does the love we seek and find.
Love for me is still sweet and thoughtful, but its also about practicality. I am a logical thinker, so like most things in my life, this decision too must be logical. Warm and fuzzy only gets you so far at our age. Like a bed slipper, it wears out fast in the cold of winter. It's time to think with our heads, and let our hearts take a break. They have worked long and hard.
I love Jeff, but gone are the days of my early 20 when I lived for the man in my life and my thoughts and needs took a back seat. Love this time around is a partnership. Its about give and take. If there are inequalities in one area they are balanced in another. We are equally responsible to be there for each other emotionally and physically. To help through illness and recovery. To watch each others dietary needs and exercise. We clean house together, chores are separated by skill. Its more practical for him to clean the bathroom so that I can avoid the extreme retch factor I have developed over the years since my boys out grew diapers. He does the vacuuming and I do the detail work. I put things in their place, and dust, and clean, while he does the big ticket heavy duty items.
We both wear clothes so the practical thing to do is to share the job. He washes and dries. I fold and put away. Its all about big picture and finishing details.
Kitchen clean up. He's everyday dishes, I'm counters and fine china.
Love is still sweet, like when he takes my shoes off at night for me, or ties them in the morning, or when holds my hand as I take the stairs and gives me his arm as I rise from a booth in the restaurant. Its still charming and full of comfort when he cuddles up to say goodnight or stands at the door to wave to me each morning as I leave for work. But it's practical and logical too.
It thinks about social security, life insurance, advance directives, living wills, burial plots and plans. Love these days isn't afraid to venture to topics and places where young love never thinks to go. It is practical and logical.......it has to be.
If I been more practical and logical all along life would have been very different. But then again, I wouldn't have experienced the adventures or garnered the wisdom I now claim as my own. Love comes at different stages and it morphs along the way. If we are lucky we are with the same person our entire lives as it grows and changes, but if luck is not on our side....we see each stage anew in each relationship we have as we grow and learn.
Chhese and wine, Chocolate and peanut butter, Practicality and Love, Logic and Partnership, Jeff & Lisa - these are perfect pairs.
Just Breathe
Breathing. Its a simple reflexive movement. We do it without ever thinking. It just happens. From the moment we are born until the moment we die, breathing is life.
We hold our breath when we smell a pungent odor, or swim under water. We hold it when enter a public restroom, or pass by a landfill, or a chicken farm. Sometimes it's a matter of popping our ears on an airplane, or getting an x-ray done in the lab of our doctors office. Whateverthe reason, holding our breath is uncomfortable, stifling, and it offers a brief passing second of what it would be like NOT to be able to breathe.
For the most part we spend our days breathing normally, slow easy breaths that take no thought, no effort (at least for most of us). Our breathing increases with exercise and slows at rest. We take 10 deep breaths when we are angry, or anxious. It's a way to calm ourselves and find our center again. Breathing is soothing and the oxygen in our brain and muscles and blood as we visualize it brings us tranquility and calm.
We take it for granted that it will always be there.........until its not.
That one day, that one moment in time when breathing suddenly can't be found. You struggle for each ounce of air, you swim between consciousness and unconsciousness. Your focus is gone. The pressure in your chest is unbearable and your hands and feet tingle as if falling asleep. You are dying with each passing second and your brain screams that you want only to live. Someone help...Please. And then you begin to surrender...to accept and let go....and as you do.....the fight for your life begins. Others begin to fight for you.
Its not until you can't breath, until it is taken from you suddenly without warning, that you realize how valuable and miraculous the gift of breathe is. The process of our body and how it functions is truly amazing. Rather it be an illness, an accident, a source of confinement....a sudden and dramatic loss of oxygen in your blood and the ability to breathe freely, can be devastating and terrifying.
If you are lucky enough to come out the other side, even as you fight to return to some semblance of your pre-trauma state, you learn to appreciate the act itself. To stop each day and regard the miracle of breathing. You vow never again to take it for granted, and then.....you don't. You know how much it means.
Each day you wake up, you swing your legs to the side of the bed, you stretch, and you begin your day with the simple act of a Deep Cleansing Breath.
We hold our breath when we smell a pungent odor, or swim under water. We hold it when enter a public restroom, or pass by a landfill, or a chicken farm. Sometimes it's a matter of popping our ears on an airplane, or getting an x-ray done in the lab of our doctors office. Whateverthe reason, holding our breath is uncomfortable, stifling, and it offers a brief passing second of what it would be like NOT to be able to breathe.
For the most part we spend our days breathing normally, slow easy breaths that take no thought, no effort (at least for most of us). Our breathing increases with exercise and slows at rest. We take 10 deep breaths when we are angry, or anxious. It's a way to calm ourselves and find our center again. Breathing is soothing and the oxygen in our brain and muscles and blood as we visualize it brings us tranquility and calm.
We take it for granted that it will always be there.........until its not.
That one day, that one moment in time when breathing suddenly can't be found. You struggle for each ounce of air, you swim between consciousness and unconsciousness. Your focus is gone. The pressure in your chest is unbearable and your hands and feet tingle as if falling asleep. You are dying with each passing second and your brain screams that you want only to live. Someone help...Please. And then you begin to surrender...to accept and let go....and as you do.....the fight for your life begins. Others begin to fight for you.
Its not until you can't breath, until it is taken from you suddenly without warning, that you realize how valuable and miraculous the gift of breathe is. The process of our body and how it functions is truly amazing. Rather it be an illness, an accident, a source of confinement....a sudden and dramatic loss of oxygen in your blood and the ability to breathe freely, can be devastating and terrifying.
If you are lucky enough to come out the other side, even as you fight to return to some semblance of your pre-trauma state, you learn to appreciate the act itself. To stop each day and regard the miracle of breathing. You vow never again to take it for granted, and then.....you don't. You know how much it means.
Each day you wake up, you swing your legs to the side of the bed, you stretch, and you begin your day with the simple act of a Deep Cleansing Breath.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Wisdom Can't be Bought
We've all heard the saying "like a fine wine", as we work feverishly to describe and convince ourselves that aging is beautiful and more majestic than youth. Some of us go kicking and screaming into middle age and then our golden years, determined to deny the inevitable. Some of us go solemnly, surrendering all power and hope, full of dread and gloom, but resolved to accept whatever it is we are destined to become. And then there are those who age gracefully without skipping a beat. We glide through each year, knowing that challenges lie ahead, just as they have in the past, but with each new challenge comes a new found enlightenment. Wisdom is our treasure and we are ever the treasure hunters seeking pirates gold.
I want to be graceful as I go. I appreciate each day I have, and I look for the pearls, and gold and diamonds all around me. But I also look for the coal, yet to be pressed and forged into that diamond. That coal is transformed through trial.
Wisdom is the only thing of worth we have which cannot be bought or sold in a retail establishment. It will never be a commodity of capital or commercial equity. We are not born with it. We do not inherit it genetically, or bequeath it in our will to those we leave behind when we die.
Wisdom cannot be stolen, because once acquired it weaves itself into the very fabric of our DNA, who we are, what we do, how we think. It becomes a part of us, Permanently! Wisdom cannot be taught in a university, through lectures, and notes and textbooks. It's not academic knowledge, facts, or figures. Wisdom is not the same as intelligence it is deeper, more intuitive, more primal. Wisdom is instinctual, it is epiphany, it is enlightenment, and it is personal and unique to each person.
Wisdom is hard earned, through blood sweat and tears. It is forged in the battle of fire and challenge, heartbreak and loneliness. Wisdom comes from great pain, and loss, but it is strength and courage and life giving. Wisdom is hard earned and deserves respect and honor and gratitude. You cannot gain wisdom without ever facing adversity.
As I age, ever so gracefully, I have earned and fought and gained wisdom along the way. I hope I never stop. I enjoy the learning, I enjoy knowing that life is ever evolving and that I haven't finished growing yet. I wear my wisdom silently under my skin, like a badge of honor, willing to share with anyone who needs or wants it.
I do age like a fine wine, or a gourmet cheese, or a masterful piece of artwork. More valuable each day. I look back from where I've come and I'm grateful. I am happy with where I am today. And I await with childlike wonderment for what tomorrow brings.
I want to be graceful as I go. I appreciate each day I have, and I look for the pearls, and gold and diamonds all around me. But I also look for the coal, yet to be pressed and forged into that diamond. That coal is transformed through trial.
Wisdom is the only thing of worth we have which cannot be bought or sold in a retail establishment. It will never be a commodity of capital or commercial equity. We are not born with it. We do not inherit it genetically, or bequeath it in our will to those we leave behind when we die.
Wisdom cannot be stolen, because once acquired it weaves itself into the very fabric of our DNA, who we are, what we do, how we think. It becomes a part of us, Permanently! Wisdom cannot be taught in a university, through lectures, and notes and textbooks. It's not academic knowledge, facts, or figures. Wisdom is not the same as intelligence it is deeper, more intuitive, more primal. Wisdom is instinctual, it is epiphany, it is enlightenment, and it is personal and unique to each person.
Wisdom is hard earned, through blood sweat and tears. It is forged in the battle of fire and challenge, heartbreak and loneliness. Wisdom comes from great pain, and loss, but it is strength and courage and life giving. Wisdom is hard earned and deserves respect and honor and gratitude. You cannot gain wisdom without ever facing adversity.
As I age, ever so gracefully, I have earned and fought and gained wisdom along the way. I hope I never stop. I enjoy the learning, I enjoy knowing that life is ever evolving and that I haven't finished growing yet. I wear my wisdom silently under my skin, like a badge of honor, willing to share with anyone who needs or wants it.
I do age like a fine wine, or a gourmet cheese, or a masterful piece of artwork. More valuable each day. I look back from where I've come and I'm grateful. I am happy with where I am today. And I await with childlike wonderment for what tomorrow brings.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Rebooting, Fresh Starts
Its been so long since I blogged, I'm not even sure where to start. I think I'll keep this one simple and say only that I missed it. I missed the freedom of writing whatever came into my head. I missed the relief of letting it all go, like a deep exhale after a long held breath. I missed laughing at myself, and wondering if others are as crazy as I know I can sometimes be. I missed the daily camaraderie and feedback of my friends and the few random followers who would pop in and out. I missed the counterpoints to my always well thought out and never wrong personal views. (lol) . I missed the enlightenment found when those brave enough to call me out did so and actually chaned my mind. I missed the therapeutic value of putting into words the feelings that would otherwise turn to tears and drown me in deep seeded depression and self pity. I missed my slightly judgemental side which I only recognize when I read it. But most of all I just missed looking back from day to day and seeing where I've been and where I'm going and knowing that life is a journey and I am ever eternally evolving.
I'm back, under a new name and with some fresh perspectives, and I think its worth another try.
I'm back, under a new name and with some fresh perspectives, and I think its worth another try.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Garage Sale...
It's funny how much we collect without even realizing it. I consider myself somewhat of a minimalist. I purge ..frequently. If it doesn't get used it goes. Granted there are exceptions to the rules like seasonal items...but even so...mostly, if its broken, unused, outdated, or simply falls into that category of "hey..I forgot I had that", then I can do without it. After all, I went without knowing I had it this long..right?
So in the process of moving, you begin to realize, that even in the midst of all this purge, you still accumulate, against your greatest efforts. Things just seem to build up. Time for a garage sale.
And then, after the move, as I sit unpacking boxes, in the quiet of the house, waiting for Direct TV to reactivate my service which apparently can't be done until Saturday because they are so busy, I have time to do nothing but think. I ponder. I compare this move and this need to purge, streamline, de-clutter once again, my physical world to my emotional world. A life without media outlets like internet, tv, etc, can be a dangerous thing. It leads to philosophical thoughts and contemplation and in my hands, that can be highly disruptive......or not.
You see I realize, I have already streamlined my emotional world. I only hold on to those people in my life I consider pieces of my heart. I regularly de-clutter and trim the fringe and tattered threads that fray and pull at the seams of my sanity and self esteem. I have on occasion spent countless hours, days, months and years, trying to mend gaping holes of sibling and familial relationships that can never be worn and hold no treasured value to others, without which the darning of the threads is pointless. Why bother, cut the threads and move on.
Depending on who you speak with, family and friends are either of great value or little consequence. For me, they are neither and both. It is entirely depending on the individual and the size of the heart and commitment to the effort. Just as in moving there are a million different sizes of boxes and not every box will fit the need for every item. Some things have to be packed gingerly in bubble wrap marked fragile, while others can be tossed about carefree. Somethings will be put on display while others will be placed in drawers. Relationships, people, hearts are never one size fits all and the solutions and answers are never textbook.
For me, its pretty cut and dry. Like everything else in my life. If its touched, seen, used, felt...I keep it. I cherish it, I hold on to it and I care for it. If it brings me nothing but pain, sadness, emptiness, void, no value, question, apathy...then its time for a garage sale. I occasionally find myself looking for that item I once sold or donated, but then I remember why and I am at peace with it. If you are friend or family who I communicate with, you know who you are and you know that I treasure and love you, with all that I have. And if we are not, well....
So in the process of moving, you begin to realize, that even in the midst of all this purge, you still accumulate, against your greatest efforts. Things just seem to build up. Time for a garage sale.
And then, after the move, as I sit unpacking boxes, in the quiet of the house, waiting for Direct TV to reactivate my service which apparently can't be done until Saturday because they are so busy, I have time to do nothing but think. I ponder. I compare this move and this need to purge, streamline, de-clutter once again, my physical world to my emotional world. A life without media outlets like internet, tv, etc, can be a dangerous thing. It leads to philosophical thoughts and contemplation and in my hands, that can be highly disruptive......or not.
You see I realize, I have already streamlined my emotional world. I only hold on to those people in my life I consider pieces of my heart. I regularly de-clutter and trim the fringe and tattered threads that fray and pull at the seams of my sanity and self esteem. I have on occasion spent countless hours, days, months and years, trying to mend gaping holes of sibling and familial relationships that can never be worn and hold no treasured value to others, without which the darning of the threads is pointless. Why bother, cut the threads and move on.
Depending on who you speak with, family and friends are either of great value or little consequence. For me, they are neither and both. It is entirely depending on the individual and the size of the heart and commitment to the effort. Just as in moving there are a million different sizes of boxes and not every box will fit the need for every item. Some things have to be packed gingerly in bubble wrap marked fragile, while others can be tossed about carefree. Somethings will be put on display while others will be placed in drawers. Relationships, people, hearts are never one size fits all and the solutions and answers are never textbook.
For me, its pretty cut and dry. Like everything else in my life. If its touched, seen, used, felt...I keep it. I cherish it, I hold on to it and I care for it. If it brings me nothing but pain, sadness, emptiness, void, no value, question, apathy...then its time for a garage sale. I occasionally find myself looking for that item I once sold or donated, but then I remember why and I am at peace with it. If you are friend or family who I communicate with, you know who you are and you know that I treasure and love you, with all that I have. And if we are not, well....
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
From the Top of my Head to the Tips of my Toes.....
I think every muscle, every fiber of my skin and bone and tissue and sinew was used in the process of moving. Today we rest. There is more to be done. Remnants you might say. A trail of things to gather. The Office has yet to be packed. There are items straggling in each room which will be boxed and gathered as we clean. That can wait for Saturday.
For today, the new dwelling is settling, Boxes are unpacked, things are finding their places and a certain calm is blanketing the air. Though there are certain to be things we find along the way that need changing or fixed, they will come in time. Today.... we rest.
Until the ghosts stir and the house decides to either accept us or reject us......yeah... Wyatt is convinced the house is haunted. It probably didn't help that we talked about the recent remake of Evil Dead or that we watched Insidious on DVD last night either.
There is a door (the one that will be our new office space) that keeps closing on its own. No open windows or doors creating breezes that seem to contribute to it.... It just closes..with a light slam. Creepy, but not conclusive.
There is of course the Garage, filled with spiders, but what garage isn't full of spiders after having been vacant for a while? Creepy but not conclusive.
The Off-Limits Attic with the padlock on the door leaves the imagination to run wild and wonder what could possibly be up there. What if its grandmas corpse in her flower dress in a rocker, or a deep freezer full of body parts? Jars full of experiments like in American Horror Story, Season 1? Creepy but not conclusive.
And then.....the discovery of all discoveries. Wyatt and his friend Nick noticed a loose board with a finger hole on the patio deck while we were moving in. Naturally, they took the first opportunity while Jeff and I were away, to lift the secret hatch and see what lay beneath. There was a short ladder leading to a door with a latch on it. And now the imagination and haunted stories begin. Neither boy had the gumption to go down the stairs or behind the door, but the mere idea of it has sparked intrigue.
The simple truth is, its probably access for plumbing and heating and such, but as in Evil dead they now have sinister creatures emerging from the heater vents in my floor coming from beneath the house and behind that door in that secret dungeon. They have invented a world of dark and dangerous creatures that go bump in the night in this old house. All we can do is hope they accept us and don't make our lives too unbearable.
If the plumbing issue this morning in which the Washing machine caused a backup in the kitchen sink is any indication, the ghost are already causing mayhem and staking their claim.. They don't know who they are messing with. I hate moving and I am not about to do it again anytime soon, so having said that, ghost or not, I'm staying, so buckle up , and hold on tight. Things might go bump in the night, but nothing is more formidable than a determined me.
I ache from head to toe, and I am not moving again. Setting off a bug bomb in the garage, leaving the attic padlocked, putting a doorstop by the office door, calling a handyman to fix the plumbing, and for gods sake... leaving the dungeon alone. That should cover it.
For today, the new dwelling is settling, Boxes are unpacked, things are finding their places and a certain calm is blanketing the air. Though there are certain to be things we find along the way that need changing or fixed, they will come in time. Today.... we rest.
Until the ghosts stir and the house decides to either accept us or reject us......yeah... Wyatt is convinced the house is haunted. It probably didn't help that we talked about the recent remake of Evil Dead or that we watched Insidious on DVD last night either.
There is a door (the one that will be our new office space) that keeps closing on its own. No open windows or doors creating breezes that seem to contribute to it.... It just closes..with a light slam. Creepy, but not conclusive.
There is of course the Garage, filled with spiders, but what garage isn't full of spiders after having been vacant for a while? Creepy but not conclusive.
The Off-Limits Attic with the padlock on the door leaves the imagination to run wild and wonder what could possibly be up there. What if its grandmas corpse in her flower dress in a rocker, or a deep freezer full of body parts? Jars full of experiments like in American Horror Story, Season 1? Creepy but not conclusive.
And then.....the discovery of all discoveries. Wyatt and his friend Nick noticed a loose board with a finger hole on the patio deck while we were moving in. Naturally, they took the first opportunity while Jeff and I were away, to lift the secret hatch and see what lay beneath. There was a short ladder leading to a door with a latch on it. And now the imagination and haunted stories begin. Neither boy had the gumption to go down the stairs or behind the door, but the mere idea of it has sparked intrigue.
The simple truth is, its probably access for plumbing and heating and such, but as in Evil dead they now have sinister creatures emerging from the heater vents in my floor coming from beneath the house and behind that door in that secret dungeon. They have invented a world of dark and dangerous creatures that go bump in the night in this old house. All we can do is hope they accept us and don't make our lives too unbearable.
If the plumbing issue this morning in which the Washing machine caused a backup in the kitchen sink is any indication, the ghost are already causing mayhem and staking their claim.. They don't know who they are messing with. I hate moving and I am not about to do it again anytime soon, so having said that, ghost or not, I'm staying, so buckle up , and hold on tight. Things might go bump in the night, but nothing is more formidable than a determined me.
I ache from head to toe, and I am not moving again. Setting off a bug bomb in the garage, leaving the attic padlocked, putting a doorstop by the office door, calling a handyman to fix the plumbing, and for gods sake... leaving the dungeon alone. That should cover it.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Innocence Lost...Days Gone By
Last night as I lay in bed searching for something to watch on TV as I fell asleep, an old movie caught my eye and a memory vividly filled my senses. As I began to tell Jeff about it, it became starkly apparent, as it does so often at 1 a.m. when I simply can't sleep, that the world we live in today is very different than the world we lived in when I was child.
To say I grew up sheltered would be an understatement. My mother was convinced that the devil was around every corner, living in every neighbors home, on every record (yes I said record), in every book not promoted by the church, and in every television show not Mutual of O'Maha Wild Kingdom, Jacques Cousteau, or Laurence Welk. Books containing any reference to magic like today's Harry Potter, would have been worthy of burning by her standards, Satan's playground. Like I said.....a different time.
Television was scandalous enough with shows like Threes Company, The Love Boat, Love American Style, Maude, and Laugh In. To catch a glimpse of these was a feat of mission impossible and I felt quite accomplished and rebellious when I managed to do so even if only for a minute or two. Movies were a bit more complicated. I remember my mother being furious with my Aunt Marie and my Grandmother Aileen when during one summers visit they took me to see Disney's Escape to Witch Mountain. Imagine her horror a few years later when when she discovered me watching Flashdance at my church boyfriends home while his parents were there.
There was the summer that the traveling evangelists came through town and spent a week convincing the adults that our records were playing messages from the devil when played in reverse at extreme slow speeds. So naturally, mom broke all of my records except for a few I could scurry away and keep her from finding. Its funny, listen to anything in super slow motion reverse and it will always sound demonic and creepy....go figure
Today, in comparison, the shows my mother and our generation saw as risque and walking the line of decency vs. indecency, are tame. The humor is corny and silly. Censorship has been pushed far beyond the boundaries it once knew and sex and innuendo is commonplace. To find an "innocent" show is rare. Shows like Two Broke Girls rely on one overtly sexual innuendo after another to keep the laughter going. Modern Family relies on the subtlety of the sexual undertows between its characters to keep the dynamic and energy high. Our music lyrics are all about sex, drugs, and violence and profanity is the norm. Movies are rated differently than they were then. What used to receive an R rated is more PG-13 now.
My kids have a whole different view of the world than I did. But here is the good thing.......
Growing up so overwhelming sheltered, makes a child struggle to discover what lies beneath the shroud of secrecy. Rebellion reigns and rules are broken. The parent-child dynamic is fractured, sometimes beyond repair, and a life long lack of understanding and failure to connect is fostered and grows like a fungus.
Allowing a child to experience life, albeit with parental guidance and a gentle hand and nudge in the right direction when needed, allows them to see the world as it is. They learn that not all the cookies in the cookie jar are to their taste, and that sometimes too much candy can make you can you sick. They learn to trust their judgment and to make good choices. Yes....mistakes will be made, but they can own them and not blame the over protective parent for sheltering them so much that they didn't know what they were getting into.
As I fell asleep last night to the movie I secretly watched while babysitting at Becky and Lou Whitlocks house when I was 15, I remembered feeling so naughty at the time because I knew it was forbidden, and yet.....here and now....I fell asleep, bored and without interest, having seen it once decades ago and not remembering even why it mattered. Cat People......Really????? What was I thinking?
To say I grew up sheltered would be an understatement. My mother was convinced that the devil was around every corner, living in every neighbors home, on every record (yes I said record), in every book not promoted by the church, and in every television show not Mutual of O'Maha Wild Kingdom, Jacques Cousteau, or Laurence Welk. Books containing any reference to magic like today's Harry Potter, would have been worthy of burning by her standards, Satan's playground. Like I said.....a different time.
Television was scandalous enough with shows like Threes Company, The Love Boat, Love American Style, Maude, and Laugh In. To catch a glimpse of these was a feat of mission impossible and I felt quite accomplished and rebellious when I managed to do so even if only for a minute or two. Movies were a bit more complicated. I remember my mother being furious with my Aunt Marie and my Grandmother Aileen when during one summers visit they took me to see Disney's Escape to Witch Mountain. Imagine her horror a few years later when when she discovered me watching Flashdance at my church boyfriends home while his parents were there.
There was the summer that the traveling evangelists came through town and spent a week convincing the adults that our records were playing messages from the devil when played in reverse at extreme slow speeds. So naturally, mom broke all of my records except for a few I could scurry away and keep her from finding. Its funny, listen to anything in super slow motion reverse and it will always sound demonic and creepy....go figure
Today, in comparison, the shows my mother and our generation saw as risque and walking the line of decency vs. indecency, are tame. The humor is corny and silly. Censorship has been pushed far beyond the boundaries it once knew and sex and innuendo is commonplace. To find an "innocent" show is rare. Shows like Two Broke Girls rely on one overtly sexual innuendo after another to keep the laughter going. Modern Family relies on the subtlety of the sexual undertows between its characters to keep the dynamic and energy high. Our music lyrics are all about sex, drugs, and violence and profanity is the norm. Movies are rated differently than they were then. What used to receive an R rated is more PG-13 now.
My kids have a whole different view of the world than I did. But here is the good thing.......
Growing up so overwhelming sheltered, makes a child struggle to discover what lies beneath the shroud of secrecy. Rebellion reigns and rules are broken. The parent-child dynamic is fractured, sometimes beyond repair, and a life long lack of understanding and failure to connect is fostered and grows like a fungus.
Allowing a child to experience life, albeit with parental guidance and a gentle hand and nudge in the right direction when needed, allows them to see the world as it is. They learn that not all the cookies in the cookie jar are to their taste, and that sometimes too much candy can make you can you sick. They learn to trust their judgment and to make good choices. Yes....mistakes will be made, but they can own them and not blame the over protective parent for sheltering them so much that they didn't know what they were getting into.
As I fell asleep last night to the movie I secretly watched while babysitting at Becky and Lou Whitlocks house when I was 15, I remembered feeling so naughty at the time because I knew it was forbidden, and yet.....here and now....I fell asleep, bored and without interest, having seen it once decades ago and not remembering even why it mattered. Cat People......Really????? What was I thinking?
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Tipping the Scales.....Balancing the Work.......
Let me just put it out there, bold and truthful, blunt and honest, Moving Sucks. O.k. not so much the getting to start somewhere new, somewhere better, somewhere bigger, but the packing, the prep, the organizing and putting everything together. What a nightmare.
Here's the best part...my guys think I have the EASY part. No...really. They think the fact that they have to pick the boxes up, put them on a truck, and then take them back off a truck makes their job the hardest. Really? Really???!!!
I am the one who spent weeks finding the house..calling Realtors, visiting houses, filling out paperwork, budgeting finances, making sure we had a house to move to.
I am the one who arranged to make sure we have all the amenities necessary to live; electricity, gas, water, tv, internet, you know....clean clothes, showers, all those things you rely on....that's right...you'll have those because of me.
We wouldn't have a truck to move in if I hadn't made the call by the way.... :) Your Welcome. :)
And the packing....Do you know how much work it is to pack a three bedroom house plus kitchen, dining room, laundry room, etc.? I work full time 40-50 hours a week and come home every night to pack until midnight. Those piles of boxes that seem to be growing exponentially, are not magical, they are me. Again...Your welcome :)
And while we are talking about work balance, here, who do you think is going to be unpacking all those boxes and putting things away at the new house? YOU???? LOL. Stand up comedy might be your next gig, you should keep it in mind. That's really funny.
Bottom line.
I appreciate having big strong guys around to help with the move, but please don't demean and belittle my contribution because you think your muscle and a few hours of work on your part trumps the weeks of effort and time I have dedicated to making sure we have a home to go to.
Thanks.
Now onward and upward, lets pack this baby up and make a move. across town.....lol
Here's the best part...my guys think I have the EASY part. No...really. They think the fact that they have to pick the boxes up, put them on a truck, and then take them back off a truck makes their job the hardest. Really? Really???!!!
I am the one who spent weeks finding the house..calling Realtors, visiting houses, filling out paperwork, budgeting finances, making sure we had a house to move to.
I am the one who arranged to make sure we have all the amenities necessary to live; electricity, gas, water, tv, internet, you know....clean clothes, showers, all those things you rely on....that's right...you'll have those because of me.
We wouldn't have a truck to move in if I hadn't made the call by the way.... :) Your Welcome. :)
And the packing....Do you know how much work it is to pack a three bedroom house plus kitchen, dining room, laundry room, etc.? I work full time 40-50 hours a week and come home every night to pack until midnight. Those piles of boxes that seem to be growing exponentially, are not magical, they are me. Again...Your welcome :)
And while we are talking about work balance, here, who do you think is going to be unpacking all those boxes and putting things away at the new house? YOU???? LOL. Stand up comedy might be your next gig, you should keep it in mind. That's really funny.
Bottom line.
I appreciate having big strong guys around to help with the move, but please don't demean and belittle my contribution because you think your muscle and a few hours of work on your part trumps the weeks of effort and time I have dedicated to making sure we have a home to go to.
Thanks.
Now onward and upward, lets pack this baby up and make a move. across town.....lol
Never Put Off Until Tomorrow What You Can Do Today
It's a wisdom we hear our whole lives, and it usually goes in one ear and out the other. We pay no heed to its meaning because we fail to see any relevance in it. We are young, vibrant, healthy. We are active, busy, successful, social. We have friends and things to do.
We have time, to be grownups, responsible and legitimate later. But isn't that what we all think? Living in the moment, the here and now, sometimes we forget to think about the bigger picture.
Sometimes we want better for ourselves, from ourselves, but.....we think we can work at that tomorrow. Sometimes the temptations of immediate gratification and the adrenaline rush of the thrill outweigh common sense, and sometimes.....just sometimes.....tragedy occurs and tomorrow....all those tomorrows...never come.
By the time I was 30 I was a mother to two young boys and a wife twice over. I was already a grown up and any notion of youthful partying was a faded memory like waking in the wee hours of dawn from a dream you can scarcely harvest images from. Lets be honest, I was never much of a drinker or partier anyway. I am admittedly an alcohol lightweight, and a true innocent as far as drugs go. I have always been a bit of a wallflower, full of anxiety ridden angst in large social situations, so even in my wildest days, I was a bit of snore. Adulthood was a good fit for me and a natural and easy transition.
But there are those who fight the process of growing up with every fiber of their being. I guess on some deeply rooted level, I am secretly in awe of these vivacious and crazy lifetastic (oooh I should coin that word, love it, made it up and love it) individuals. They live their lives just for the moment. They take risks. They like thrills. They are not afraid of the underbelly and seedier side of the world and they live life in the moment.....for now. It must be exhausting at times not knowing what comes next, scary even. But.... I know from personal interaction, that at some point every one of these individuals reaches a point when they are ready to begin thinking about tomorrow, not just today.
Last week, a young man I knew who lived on the edge just a little too long , fell off. I know he had reached a point where he was ready to begin planning a tomorrow. In our last conversation, he spoke of desperately wanting and being ready to find a girl he could love and have a family with. He spoke of securing stable employment and getting his life on track. He spoke of purging his life of those who were holding him back and surging forward, into a future of hope and happiness, peace and health. He wanted out of the neighborhood and out of the life he considered his downfall. He was ready. He had the potential. He had a dream. He had goals.
But...as is often the case with theses eclectic lifetastic savants, there is always the need for one last joy ride, one last adventure, one last thrill. Tragically, his dreams and his goals will never be realized. At the age of 30, his life was taken. Unnecessarily, unceremoniously, without regard, without care, without any shred of decency. He was robbed of his dreams, his belongings, his dignity, and all his tomorrows without regard. He made a choice, its true, but the individuals present, made a choice too, and theirs was a choice resulting in the death of a 30 year old man who had family and friends, a future of hopes and dreams, and the right to live. The choice of those responsible for allowing him to die and doing nothing was indecent. They chose to steal his belongings, his wallet, his possessions, as they walked around his body lying there fading from this world into the next. They were criminals. Free will is a funny thing...sometimes it lets us make the worst choices. Worry not...Karma is truly a bitch, and the universe gives back to you what you put out there
The lesson is simple, live your life, live it lifetastically, but do it well, do it safely, do it smart, do it without regret and remember we never know, NONE of us, what tomorrow brings or even if tomorrow will come.
Be happy today, treat people well, respect everyone, even those who live their lives differently than you, and remember we all occupy space on this planet we all call home. Chose your friends well. Chose people who will care for you, love you, and help you when you need it most, not those who would leave you to die in pile of your own ilk. Help everyone, but open your home only to those you know would do the same for you.
We have time, to be grownups, responsible and legitimate later. But isn't that what we all think? Living in the moment, the here and now, sometimes we forget to think about the bigger picture.
Sometimes we want better for ourselves, from ourselves, but.....we think we can work at that tomorrow. Sometimes the temptations of immediate gratification and the adrenaline rush of the thrill outweigh common sense, and sometimes.....just sometimes.....tragedy occurs and tomorrow....all those tomorrows...never come.
By the time I was 30 I was a mother to two young boys and a wife twice over. I was already a grown up and any notion of youthful partying was a faded memory like waking in the wee hours of dawn from a dream you can scarcely harvest images from. Lets be honest, I was never much of a drinker or partier anyway. I am admittedly an alcohol lightweight, and a true innocent as far as drugs go. I have always been a bit of a wallflower, full of anxiety ridden angst in large social situations, so even in my wildest days, I was a bit of snore. Adulthood was a good fit for me and a natural and easy transition.
But there are those who fight the process of growing up with every fiber of their being. I guess on some deeply rooted level, I am secretly in awe of these vivacious and crazy lifetastic (oooh I should coin that word, love it, made it up and love it) individuals. They live their lives just for the moment. They take risks. They like thrills. They are not afraid of the underbelly and seedier side of the world and they live life in the moment.....for now. It must be exhausting at times not knowing what comes next, scary even. But.... I know from personal interaction, that at some point every one of these individuals reaches a point when they are ready to begin thinking about tomorrow, not just today.
Last week, a young man I knew who lived on the edge just a little too long , fell off. I know he had reached a point where he was ready to begin planning a tomorrow. In our last conversation, he spoke of desperately wanting and being ready to find a girl he could love and have a family with. He spoke of securing stable employment and getting his life on track. He spoke of purging his life of those who were holding him back and surging forward, into a future of hope and happiness, peace and health. He wanted out of the neighborhood and out of the life he considered his downfall. He was ready. He had the potential. He had a dream. He had goals.
But...as is often the case with theses eclectic lifetastic savants, there is always the need for one last joy ride, one last adventure, one last thrill. Tragically, his dreams and his goals will never be realized. At the age of 30, his life was taken. Unnecessarily, unceremoniously, without regard, without care, without any shred of decency. He was robbed of his dreams, his belongings, his dignity, and all his tomorrows without regard. He made a choice, its true, but the individuals present, made a choice too, and theirs was a choice resulting in the death of a 30 year old man who had family and friends, a future of hopes and dreams, and the right to live. The choice of those responsible for allowing him to die and doing nothing was indecent. They chose to steal his belongings, his wallet, his possessions, as they walked around his body lying there fading from this world into the next. They were criminals. Free will is a funny thing...sometimes it lets us make the worst choices. Worry not...Karma is truly a bitch, and the universe gives back to you what you put out there
The lesson is simple, live your life, live it lifetastically, but do it well, do it safely, do it smart, do it without regret and remember we never know, NONE of us, what tomorrow brings or even if tomorrow will come.
Be happy today, treat people well, respect everyone, even those who live their lives differently than you, and remember we all occupy space on this planet we all call home. Chose your friends well. Chose people who will care for you, love you, and help you when you need it most, not those who would leave you to die in pile of your own ilk. Help everyone, but open your home only to those you know would do the same for you.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Borderline OCD...No border about it
As I find myself this week preparing for a move from one home to another, I realized while taking a moment to rest from the incessant chore of packing, that I might be a bit OCD.
O.k., I'll give you a moment to gather yourself and stop laughing. Catch your breath and wipe the tears from you eyes. Did you hurt yourself when you fell off the chair from laughing so hard? Yes I know....referring to myself as a "bit OCD" is like calling cotton candy a little bit sweet or ammonia a little bit pungent. An understatement for sure, but sometimes it good to be humble, even about our idiosyncrasies.
Moving on....
I realized in this moment of epiphany that packing 3-6 weeks ahead might be a bit obsessive. But its the only way I can sleep at night.
Making matters all the more disturbing is the fact that as I packed my video library, I did it in such a way as to not compromise it's beautiful organization. Yes my DVD's are all packed alphabetically, as are my books by genre.
I know this need to find control in the little things in my life must be a pshychiatrist dream to decipher and define. But its simple really....I like structure and space. Everything has its place and a place for everything.
We take possession of keys to the next house on the 8th but we wont actually live there until the 22nd. This will allow us time to prepare the back yard to prevent a wiener dog escape, time for me to clean what most people would consider an already clean house, to a clean that meets my needs of course. It will give us time to transition, move in stages, put things away, and then move some more.
It's funny, I can't live out of boxes when I get to where I am going to be, I can't even fall asleep that first night if there is yet a box waiting, but I can't sleep where I am at now either unless the boxes are full and waiting to go.
It's a conundrum, I know. Buts it all makes sense to me. I am a planner, not a procrastinator. I see the big picture, but sometimes get mired in the muck of the details. Moving with me, can be stressful, but it can be easy too. I do all the pre-work. All you have to do is load it up, load it in, and leave me to put it all away.
I think I need a bottle of wine, not to worry......I know exactly what box I packed it in. :)
O.k., I'll give you a moment to gather yourself and stop laughing. Catch your breath and wipe the tears from you eyes. Did you hurt yourself when you fell off the chair from laughing so hard? Yes I know....referring to myself as a "bit OCD" is like calling cotton candy a little bit sweet or ammonia a little bit pungent. An understatement for sure, but sometimes it good to be humble, even about our idiosyncrasies.
Moving on....
I realized in this moment of epiphany that packing 3-6 weeks ahead might be a bit obsessive. But its the only way I can sleep at night.
Making matters all the more disturbing is the fact that as I packed my video library, I did it in such a way as to not compromise it's beautiful organization. Yes my DVD's are all packed alphabetically, as are my books by genre.
I know this need to find control in the little things in my life must be a pshychiatrist dream to decipher and define. But its simple really....I like structure and space. Everything has its place and a place for everything.
We take possession of keys to the next house on the 8th but we wont actually live there until the 22nd. This will allow us time to prepare the back yard to prevent a wiener dog escape, time for me to clean what most people would consider an already clean house, to a clean that meets my needs of course. It will give us time to transition, move in stages, put things away, and then move some more.
It's funny, I can't live out of boxes when I get to where I am going to be, I can't even fall asleep that first night if there is yet a box waiting, but I can't sleep where I am at now either unless the boxes are full and waiting to go.
It's a conundrum, I know. Buts it all makes sense to me. I am a planner, not a procrastinator. I see the big picture, but sometimes get mired in the muck of the details. Moving with me, can be stressful, but it can be easy too. I do all the pre-work. All you have to do is load it up, load it in, and leave me to put it all away.
I think I need a bottle of wine, not to worry......I know exactly what box I packed it in. :)
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Research Studies Show.........
Every morning as the alarm begins its familiar pattern of waking me up with a snooze button set at 9 minute intervals, I reach for the remote to turn on the morning news. In this age of economic instability, budget crisis, national debt ceilings, and unemployment, should it be surprising that the government continues to fund studies for research of information which is already logical and known? Time and again we hear the story as it begins with the familiar...."Recent studies show...", or "Researcher have found....". I shake my head most times and wonder...Really?....Really!...Now there is something new. NOT!
Did you know that more than $3 million dollars was dedicated to a study watching shrimp run on a treadmill. It was all in the name of science they said as they tried to determine the effects of bacteria on mobility and the preservation of crustacean in the seas as the little guys run away from predators. Important?...I guess, maybe if your a shrimp.
An astounding $315,000 was spent researching rather or not playing games like Farmville on Facebook could lead to meaningful and lasting friendships. O.k....REALLY!? This is just stupid. Truth is, I'm more likely to UNfriend someone who nags me with game requests than I am to form a lasting bond with them. The results of the study eventually proved just that, that friendships were not enhanced or fostered by the games. Well, duh? You could have paid me the $315,000 and I could have told you that without all the wasted time and effort.
Other studies show shocking things like...
One week research shows red meat is bad for me, and the next its good. One week drinking wine is good for my heart nad the next its going to kill me. Research shows dogs bond more closely with their owners than cats (tell that to a cat person..).
If we are going to fund research, lets focus our funds that are useful to mankind. A cure for cancer, aids, lupus....Ecological footprint reduction and sustainable resources, saving the polar icecaps, or preventing the extinction of a wildlife species endangered because humans are like a global plague infecting every piece of open land on the planet.
If they really must continue to pay for useless research, I volunteer to be the first stop for every question posed. If I can provide the same conclusion as the eventual study, then I propose that I receive the full funding in my bank account. I like that idea......
Did you know that more than $3 million dollars was dedicated to a study watching shrimp run on a treadmill. It was all in the name of science they said as they tried to determine the effects of bacteria on mobility and the preservation of crustacean in the seas as the little guys run away from predators. Important?...I guess, maybe if your a shrimp.
An astounding $315,000 was spent researching rather or not playing games like Farmville on Facebook could lead to meaningful and lasting friendships. O.k....REALLY!? This is just stupid. Truth is, I'm more likely to UNfriend someone who nags me with game requests than I am to form a lasting bond with them. The results of the study eventually proved just that, that friendships were not enhanced or fostered by the games. Well, duh? You could have paid me the $315,000 and I could have told you that without all the wasted time and effort.
Other studies show shocking things like...
- High Heels Can make your feet hurt - conducted on a target pool of 3300 men and women with what....4000 years of history to back it up!...........
- Going Bald can be upsetting - 43% of men polled were concerned about their attractiveness, 37% worried about getting older, 22% were anxious about the impact it would have on their social life, 21% were depressed by it and 62% percent believed it could impact their self-esteem....and we spent how much on this study????.....Thanks for the surprising results!.........
- And one of my favorites....Employees Hate Meetings???? Oh my gosh...stop the press...this needs to be a front page story.....The study showed that most employees thought that even if meetings could be informative, they were more likely to be dreadful, unnecessary bore-fests that seem to last a lifetime. And there are too many of them. Interestingly enough, the research proves, a painstaking meeting schedule has the worst effect on the employee who is most dedicated and productive. They start to feel stress and bogged down. Slackers, on the other hand, love meetings because they get to yack with coworkers, avoid dreaded to-do lists, and basically kill time until 5:00
One week research shows red meat is bad for me, and the next its good. One week drinking wine is good for my heart nad the next its going to kill me. Research shows dogs bond more closely with their owners than cats (tell that to a cat person..).
If we are going to fund research, lets focus our funds that are useful to mankind. A cure for cancer, aids, lupus....Ecological footprint reduction and sustainable resources, saving the polar icecaps, or preventing the extinction of a wildlife species endangered because humans are like a global plague infecting every piece of open land on the planet.
If they really must continue to pay for useless research, I volunteer to be the first stop for every question posed. If I can provide the same conclusion as the eventual study, then I propose that I receive the full funding in my bank account. I like that idea......
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Fixing Me....
They say one mans garbage is another mans treasure, and its true.
This isn't to say that I view myself as ANYONE"s garbage, only that we are all treasures to someone, sometimes we just have to follow our hearts and let fate take us where we belong.
I spent most of my childhood and early adulthood "broken". I never quite felt as if I belonged. Friendships were easy to come by, but difficult to sustain. I suffered from low self esteem and a fear of never being loved. As a child, I was the poor kid, from the wrong side of town, and I didn't fit in. The dysfunction and fractured core of my family and childhood left its scars. I grew up unable to truly create bonds with people, but seeking them out desperately. When I found one, I would hang on so tightly, with all my might, that I smothered it with insecurity and doubt. I was always waiting for the next person to leave me and was positive that everyone in my life came with one foot out the door. By my late teens, I learned to break the ties first. It was too painful waiting for someone I cared about to walk out on me so.... I became a professional at the preemptive strike and at sabotaging friendships before they could break my heart. When I finally graduated high school at 17 and then married my first husband at 19, I couldn't wait to leave my childhood and the world and people I knew behind. I never knew how much I would miss those connections someday. I saw myself as disposable and thus everyone around me was disposable as well.
Like I said...I was broken....and I knew it, I felt it, and I feared I would never be fixed.
The end of my first marriage and the circumstances behind it, only served to further shatter my spirit. I carried a deep seeded belief that I was not worthy or able of being loved. I had striven for perfection believing that if I was good enough, perfect enough, thin enough, kind enough, passive enough, enough...enough..enough... that I could earn the love I so wanted and desired.
My second marriage, although a direct and clear contrast to my first, ended after 13 years in a pile of rubble. But something happened in that time........This ending was different. Though I entered the relationship broken, torn into a million pieces scattered in the wind, when I left, I emerged something different. A phoenix reborn. Somewhere along the way, my spirit began to fix itself. I can't pinpoint the exact moment that the mending began, but without any doubt, I know it was directly attributable to motherhood and the unconditional and unlimited love of my children. Their presence in my world gave me purpose and focus and direction. For the first time in my life I was not competing for love, or seeking it out, it was all around me in everything they did and said everyday.
The broken me that I had always known, was fusing its cracks, reinforcing layer upon layer, becoming whole and strong and courageous. I found strength where once there was weakness, and wisdom and sight where once there was blindness. I became something more than I ever dreamed, and I realized it was always there, beneath the surface, waiting for me to embrace it.
I went through life, meek, passive, always seeking approval and validation from others. I pretended to be strong when necessary, but behind closed doors and shuttered windows, I fell apart. An oozing pile of emotions and fear. It took me nearly 40 years to find myself. To find my courage, my hope, my strength, and my independence. Nothing made sense in my life, and relationships were always fragile until I found me.
Its true what they say, that the only way to find lasting love and friendship is to start with ourselves. If you can look in the mirror each day and like and love the person you see staring back at you, not in an egotistical way, but humble and genuine, then you will live a life full of love and friendship.
I am far from perfect, but I am fixed. I am a better version of me, than I've ever known, and I owe it all to my children.I have lasting friends, the love a good man, and I am whole.
This isn't to say that I view myself as ANYONE"s garbage, only that we are all treasures to someone, sometimes we just have to follow our hearts and let fate take us where we belong.
I spent most of my childhood and early adulthood "broken". I never quite felt as if I belonged. Friendships were easy to come by, but difficult to sustain. I suffered from low self esteem and a fear of never being loved. As a child, I was the poor kid, from the wrong side of town, and I didn't fit in. The dysfunction and fractured core of my family and childhood left its scars. I grew up unable to truly create bonds with people, but seeking them out desperately. When I found one, I would hang on so tightly, with all my might, that I smothered it with insecurity and doubt. I was always waiting for the next person to leave me and was positive that everyone in my life came with one foot out the door. By my late teens, I learned to break the ties first. It was too painful waiting for someone I cared about to walk out on me so.... I became a professional at the preemptive strike and at sabotaging friendships before they could break my heart. When I finally graduated high school at 17 and then married my first husband at 19, I couldn't wait to leave my childhood and the world and people I knew behind. I never knew how much I would miss those connections someday. I saw myself as disposable and thus everyone around me was disposable as well.
Like I said...I was broken....and I knew it, I felt it, and I feared I would never be fixed.
The end of my first marriage and the circumstances behind it, only served to further shatter my spirit. I carried a deep seeded belief that I was not worthy or able of being loved. I had striven for perfection believing that if I was good enough, perfect enough, thin enough, kind enough, passive enough, enough...enough..enough... that I could earn the love I so wanted and desired.
My second marriage, although a direct and clear contrast to my first, ended after 13 years in a pile of rubble. But something happened in that time........This ending was different. Though I entered the relationship broken, torn into a million pieces scattered in the wind, when I left, I emerged something different. A phoenix reborn. Somewhere along the way, my spirit began to fix itself. I can't pinpoint the exact moment that the mending began, but without any doubt, I know it was directly attributable to motherhood and the unconditional and unlimited love of my children. Their presence in my world gave me purpose and focus and direction. For the first time in my life I was not competing for love, or seeking it out, it was all around me in everything they did and said everyday.
The broken me that I had always known, was fusing its cracks, reinforcing layer upon layer, becoming whole and strong and courageous. I found strength where once there was weakness, and wisdom and sight where once there was blindness. I became something more than I ever dreamed, and I realized it was always there, beneath the surface, waiting for me to embrace it.
I went through life, meek, passive, always seeking approval and validation from others. I pretended to be strong when necessary, but behind closed doors and shuttered windows, I fell apart. An oozing pile of emotions and fear. It took me nearly 40 years to find myself. To find my courage, my hope, my strength, and my independence. Nothing made sense in my life, and relationships were always fragile until I found me.
Its true what they say, that the only way to find lasting love and friendship is to start with ourselves. If you can look in the mirror each day and like and love the person you see staring back at you, not in an egotistical way, but humble and genuine, then you will live a life full of love and friendship.
I am far from perfect, but I am fixed. I am a better version of me, than I've ever known, and I owe it all to my children.I have lasting friends, the love a good man, and I am whole.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Nook Books - Raising Boys Without Men
I recently downloaded and read a book on my nook that was a little outside of my normal genre. It was more philosophical and self help like, and I typically avoid those readings like the plague. But this intrigued me, and as I read it I found myself in the pages and between the lines.
Raising Boys Without Men
How Maverick Moms Are Creating the Next Generation of Exceptional Men
Rodale, July 2005
Here is short synopisis:
The book begins almost offensively by addressing the common assumptions according to society and what they term "prevailing wisdom". The theory being that a boy must be raised with a man in the house; otherwise, he's bound to be a failure. That same wisdom tells us that mothers left to their own devices will smother their sons and turn them into sissies, and that sons of unmarried mothers are destined to a life of crime.
I nearly closed my nook and deleted the download at this point, but decided to keep an open mind and see where the author was taking this. I know from life experience that this "common" knowledge is about inaccurate and untrue as is possible, so curiosity got the better of me and I waited to see where the authors committed and eluded to "groundbreaking study" would take us. Her study compared boys from female-headed households with boys from traditional mom-and-dad families.
The results were published in what she referred to as a reputable peer-reviewed journal and they were so heartening that she expanded the focus for the book to include other types of woman-headed households. Raising Boys Without Men is an examination of these boys and their amazing mothers. I cried, I laughed, and I knew I was in theses pages as I read on.
The book presented a clear and well thought out and documented rebuttal to society's "prevailing wisdom". It demonstrated evidence to the contrary, which showed that boys raised without fathers are socially savvy, generous, caring communicators, while still remaining extremely "boyish"—passionate about sports and socially adept. The study displayed maverick moms who are pioneering a new form of parenting that rejects social judgments about family structure and gender stereotype, and which stresses the importance of communication, community, and love. These brave women have much to teach us about a better way to raise tomorrow's men.
Along with letting your child seek his own heroes and role models, there are things you can do to allow him to be male. Whether or not you have a man around to show him the ropes, your son can grow up to be an emotionally healthy male just as many boys of single moms have already done. Did you know that Tom Cruise, Ed Bradley, Alexander Haig, Bill Clinton, Alan Greenspan, Bill Cosby, Dr. Benjamin Carson and Les Brown were raised by single moms?
I took an excerpt from this author and thought I would share some tips she compiled from her own experience, the expertise of "current or retired" single mothers and single parent advisers.
I am a maverick mom, a pioneer, and I am blessed.
Raising Boys Without Men
How Maverick Moms Are Creating the Next Generation of Exceptional Men
Rodale, July 2005
Here is short synopisis:
The book begins almost offensively by addressing the common assumptions according to society and what they term "prevailing wisdom". The theory being that a boy must be raised with a man in the house; otherwise, he's bound to be a failure. That same wisdom tells us that mothers left to their own devices will smother their sons and turn them into sissies, and that sons of unmarried mothers are destined to a life of crime.
I nearly closed my nook and deleted the download at this point, but decided to keep an open mind and see where the author was taking this. I know from life experience that this "common" knowledge is about inaccurate and untrue as is possible, so curiosity got the better of me and I waited to see where the authors committed and eluded to "groundbreaking study" would take us. Her study compared boys from female-headed households with boys from traditional mom-and-dad families.
The results were published in what she referred to as a reputable peer-reviewed journal and they were so heartening that she expanded the focus for the book to include other types of woman-headed households. Raising Boys Without Men is an examination of these boys and their amazing mothers. I cried, I laughed, and I knew I was in theses pages as I read on.
The book presented a clear and well thought out and documented rebuttal to society's "prevailing wisdom". It demonstrated evidence to the contrary, which showed that boys raised without fathers are socially savvy, generous, caring communicators, while still remaining extremely "boyish"—passionate about sports and socially adept. The study displayed maverick moms who are pioneering a new form of parenting that rejects social judgments about family structure and gender stereotype, and which stresses the importance of communication, community, and love. These brave women have much to teach us about a better way to raise tomorrow's men.
Along with letting your child seek his own heroes and role models, there are things you can do to allow him to be male. Whether or not you have a man around to show him the ropes, your son can grow up to be an emotionally healthy male just as many boys of single moms have already done. Did you know that Tom Cruise, Ed Bradley, Alexander Haig, Bill Clinton, Alan Greenspan, Bill Cosby, Dr. Benjamin Carson and Les Brown were raised by single moms?
I took an excerpt from this author and thought I would share some tips she compiled from her own experience, the expertise of "current or retired" single mothers and single parent advisers.
As I personally approach the end of my time "raising" my boys and watching them become men I am proud and honored to know, I realize that being a single mom, though challenging, has provided its rewards. My relationship with my sons is unshakeable. They are strong, independent and confident young men with powerful moral compasses and good decision making skills, but they are also compassionate and gentle when necessary. My boys know right from wrong, are survivors, and wise beyond their years. They will be good men to their wives, their children, and their friends. Contrary to the "prevailing wisdom" presented by society, they are not sissies or criminals or weak or lost.1. Accept your son's differences.
2. Never make him the man around the house. True, you want to teach him to grow to be man, but there is a distinction between being the "little man" and being responsible for things that adults are supposed to do. Your child is not your confidant, your knight in shining armor or your rescuer. Especially important for the newly widowed or divorced, correct people if they suggest that now your son "is the man around the house," or that he should "take care of Mommy."
3. When you look at your child and see his father's face, it's okay to get a little emotional. After all, if your ex gave you anything of value, you're looking at it. Let your son know how important he is to you.
4. Point out the positive qualities in men you see on a day to day basis. This means that even if you're buying your son baseball shoes, and the salesman is especially attentive or friendly, point this trait out by mentioning what a helpful person he is, or "Isn't this man very nice?"
5. Teach him your values, but let him express them uniquely. He's a male and will respond to emotional situations somewhat differently than you might.
6. Role models are important and will be found in every aspect of your son's life. Boys need men, but not necessarily fathers. Just because a father lives at home does not mean a boy is being "fathered."
7. Enjoy your time with your baby or toddler by not worrying about whether they are missing out on anything by not having "dad" around. At the same time, try not to avoid "daddy stuff" totally. Even though many children's books feature animal families raised only by mom, it's okay to read stories about all kinds of families to your child. Place a high value on male and female relationships in order to give your child a realistic perspective.
And remember, try not to have negative attitudes toward men, even if you became a single mother out of the most excruciating circumstances.
I am a maverick mom, a pioneer, and I am blessed.
Talking to Myself..Someone has to Listen
Driving down the street, alone in my car, I've taken to wearing my blue tooth or having an earbud in at all times. Why? you might ask......well, so that I don't look completely crazy to those who pass me by. Here's the deal, I talk to myself....sometimes.....o.k., frequently......alright alright, a lot. Get off my case already, will ya. It doesn't mean I'm crazy.....Does it?
Truth is, I talk things out in my head so that I can present myself as together and well spoken and my ideas as well thought out before I blurt them. Sometimes, taking that time, to pause, and talk it through, say it out loud, actually saves me from making a complete fool and total donkey rump of myself. You know what I'm talking about? Surely you must. You know those ideas you get or conversations you have, that make complete sense inside your mind, but in the light of day, they are suddenly flawed, irrevocably and irreparably flawed?
So I think it through, out loud to myself. I run scenarios, and debates through the machine and find the glitch before I even truly open my mouth, in front of others. Its my equivalent of "think before you speak" and avoiding "open mouth..insert foot" syndrome. Its an epidemic that, if people embraced it and walked a little more on my crazy side of things, could be obliterated or at least controlled.
O.k., so I don't always use it as a tool. Here is where the crazy really starts...sometimes...I use it as a way to vent. When something or someone upsets me, I vent it out alone. I call them to the carpet. We have a come to Jesus meeting and I always triumph. Sometimes I swear, sometimes I yell, sometimes I am just brutally honest, but I ALWAYS, get it out.
Want more crazy...sometimes I talk to myself just because I hate being alone. Its not really myself, not always, I often talk to people who I have loved and lost. My dad is a really big part of this one. I talk to him a lot. The really cool part about this psychosis is that sometimes I actually feel him with me, hear his answers, and know he gets it. Just as he was always there to lift me up in life, he still does even from the other side of the veil.
I talk to myself at my desk, I ask silly questions, and sing silly songs. Sometimes I laugh at silly thoughts as they run through my brain, & sometimes we have marathons of silliness.
Its crazy, I acknowledge it, but its my brand of crazy and it works to keep me sane, keep me grounded, keep me focused, and keep me happy.
Truth is, I talk things out in my head so that I can present myself as together and well spoken and my ideas as well thought out before I blurt them. Sometimes, taking that time, to pause, and talk it through, say it out loud, actually saves me from making a complete fool and total donkey rump of myself. You know what I'm talking about? Surely you must. You know those ideas you get or conversations you have, that make complete sense inside your mind, but in the light of day, they are suddenly flawed, irrevocably and irreparably flawed?
So I think it through, out loud to myself. I run scenarios, and debates through the machine and find the glitch before I even truly open my mouth, in front of others. Its my equivalent of "think before you speak" and avoiding "open mouth..insert foot" syndrome. Its an epidemic that, if people embraced it and walked a little more on my crazy side of things, could be obliterated or at least controlled.
O.k., so I don't always use it as a tool. Here is where the crazy really starts...sometimes...I use it as a way to vent. When something or someone upsets me, I vent it out alone. I call them to the carpet. We have a come to Jesus meeting and I always triumph. Sometimes I swear, sometimes I yell, sometimes I am just brutally honest, but I ALWAYS, get it out.
Want more crazy...sometimes I talk to myself just because I hate being alone. Its not really myself, not always, I often talk to people who I have loved and lost. My dad is a really big part of this one. I talk to him a lot. The really cool part about this psychosis is that sometimes I actually feel him with me, hear his answers, and know he gets it. Just as he was always there to lift me up in life, he still does even from the other side of the veil.
I talk to myself at my desk, I ask silly questions, and sing silly songs. Sometimes I laugh at silly thoughts as they run through my brain, & sometimes we have marathons of silliness.
Its crazy, I acknowledge it, but its my brand of crazy and it works to keep me sane, keep me grounded, keep me focused, and keep me happy.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Time to Shake Things Up
Ready....Set.....Go.......Here we go again, time to shake things up a teeny tiny bit.
My landlord, the third since I moved into the house I am in a little over 2 1/2 years ago, contacted me to schedule a "walk through". My house has been sold twice to new "investors" since I first moved in, and am accustomed to changing landlords every 10 months or so. No big deal.....I've got this. Easy Peasy.
They will be here at 9:00 a.m. I will go into work late, so that I can be home as they walk through my personal space. Here they are.......Only...This 'investor" doesn't feel like an investor. This is different somehow. The walk through is over, but I can't shake this feeling, that this time we are not going to be able to dodge the bullet. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. Nope.....I 'm home from work and why is that "investor" walking his mother around the property and showing her my home while I am not here? Ah....surprised him. Like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. I have a feeling this house isn't about an investment but a place for mom.
Two weeks go by, and no news is good news. Maybe we did skip the guillotine this time....Maybe.
Whats that...I recognize the number on my cell phone and this knot in my stomach says I really don't want to answer it but I have to. As I expected, my current landlord is terminating my lease early due to the sale. We have 60 days to vacate. Fun.
I really hate moving, but like every change in life, in the end, no matter how afraid we are, no matter how much we resist, if we simply let ourselves go with the flow, it takes to us a better place. We always end up where we belong.
I know its crazy, but moving might be a good thing, even if I didn't plan for it. We can do this and the silver lining is always there. I can name at least 3 silver linings right now.
Here we go...
1. No more neighbor sketching out and working on his cars at 3 a.m.
2. No more crazy neglectful pet adoption lady allowing her wandering dogs to dig at my fence
3. No more leaky storage shed issues ruining my holiday decorations, I might have a garage.
There is always a reason for change, even if I can't see it clearly up-front. Everything will be fine and we will have a fresh perspective and new view.
Wish us luck as we search and apply for a new home.
My landlord, the third since I moved into the house I am in a little over 2 1/2 years ago, contacted me to schedule a "walk through". My house has been sold twice to new "investors" since I first moved in, and am accustomed to changing landlords every 10 months or so. No big deal.....I've got this. Easy Peasy.
They will be here at 9:00 a.m. I will go into work late, so that I can be home as they walk through my personal space. Here they are.......Only...This 'investor" doesn't feel like an investor. This is different somehow. The walk through is over, but I can't shake this feeling, that this time we are not going to be able to dodge the bullet. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. Nope.....I 'm home from work and why is that "investor" walking his mother around the property and showing her my home while I am not here? Ah....surprised him. Like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. I have a feeling this house isn't about an investment but a place for mom.
Whats that...I recognize the number on my cell phone and this knot in my stomach says I really don't want to answer it but I have to. As I expected, my current landlord is terminating my lease early due to the sale. We have 60 days to vacate. Fun.
I really hate moving, but like every change in life, in the end, no matter how afraid we are, no matter how much we resist, if we simply let ourselves go with the flow, it takes to us a better place. We always end up where we belong.
I know its crazy, but moving might be a good thing, even if I didn't plan for it. We can do this and the silver lining is always there. I can name at least 3 silver linings right now.
Here we go...
1. No more neighbor sketching out and working on his cars at 3 a.m.
2. No more crazy neglectful pet adoption lady allowing her wandering dogs to dig at my fence
3. No more leaky storage shed issues ruining my holiday decorations, I might have a garage.
There is always a reason for change, even if I can't see it clearly up-front. Everything will be fine and we will have a fresh perspective and new view.
Wish us luck as we search and apply for a new home.
Northwest Spring into Summer
Seven and half years ago I made one of the 5 biggest decisions in my life, and moved to the Northwest in an effort to reboot and begin anew following my divorce (number 4 biggest decision of my life). Other big decisions that paid off for me in one way or another include having children, getting married (yes to the same man I later divorced, because in all fairness he gave me two absolutely amazing sons..so good decision) and oddly enough my career choice is up there because it has been rewarding, fulfilling and has always kept me in employable.
Anyway.....back to the move. I moved to the Northwest for many reasons, some of which never really panned out as I had hoped for, but some worked out better than I could have ever dreamed possible and there were even a few surprise twists along the way.
The biggest surprise for me, was Jeff. What we have, and what we are, was so unexpected and so far from the realm of what I anticipated for myself when I moved here, but......sometimes life does that to and for us.
My hopes for a new beginning took on their own crazy evolution and looking back 7 1/2 years later, I have no regrets. My kids are happy, I'm happy, and life, though never easy or smooth sailing, is always worth the effort. We have days of calm seas, and days of wild storms, but when the skies clear, it all makes sense in the bigger kaleidoscope that is me.
One of the things I have always loved the most about the Northwest as opposed to Orange County, CA, is the distinctness of our seasons. There is no mistaking our Fall, or Winter, or Spring, or Summer, for anything other than what they are. The beauty of each season is unique and awe inspiring.
The colors of fall are brilliant and something straight out of a Van Gogh palette. The crunch of the leaves as they dry after they are fallen, the smell of the harvest just before winter, and the gradient shortening of the days, all remind us that another year is drawing to its close and life is fluid.
Winter is spectacular, with its blues and silvers and the crisp cold that touches your cheeks and numbs your toes but is never quite harsh enough to confine you indoors or hinder your movement. Winter attempts to bite to the bone sometimes, but never really breaks. The landscape changes, the branches are bare, and the frost covers the fields every morning. Winter reminds us that life always takes a lull, hibernates, in order to refresh and come back with fervor and hope.
Spring is wet, with just enough chill to remind you its not yet summer but no longer winter either. The barren trees spring back to life with blossoms of pink and white and the streets once again find themselves shaded in every hue of green imaginable. The air is filled with the sounds of birds and the scent of blooms, and new life is all around.
And then without fanfare or ceremony spring suddenly becomes summer. The rains recede and the skies are a bright and comforting blue with the occasional wisp of cloud. The temperatures rise and the windows are opened to allow the fresh air and a mild breeze to flow freely through. A handful of "hot" days lies ahead but most of the days are comfortable and happy. The days are long with sunsets after 10 p.m. and the sounds of frogs and crickets fill the evening air. Hammocks are all full with stargazers awaiting the Leonids or counting orbiting satellites as they slowly cut a path across the black backdrop of the clear night sky. Weekends are filled with walks along the waterfront and the smell of freshly mowed lawns. Bar-b-que wafts through the air and tummy's rumble for hamburgers and watermelon.
This is the Northwest. This is what I love about my choice. Not just the pace of life, or the peace of home, or my wonderful friends, but the seasons. The clarity that life is grand, and ever changing, and if you blink....you might miss something wonderful. Don't blink.
Anyway.....back to the move. I moved to the Northwest for many reasons, some of which never really panned out as I had hoped for, but some worked out better than I could have ever dreamed possible and there were even a few surprise twists along the way.
The biggest surprise for me, was Jeff. What we have, and what we are, was so unexpected and so far from the realm of what I anticipated for myself when I moved here, but......sometimes life does that to and for us.
My hopes for a new beginning took on their own crazy evolution and looking back 7 1/2 years later, I have no regrets. My kids are happy, I'm happy, and life, though never easy or smooth sailing, is always worth the effort. We have days of calm seas, and days of wild storms, but when the skies clear, it all makes sense in the bigger kaleidoscope that is me.
One of the things I have always loved the most about the Northwest as opposed to Orange County, CA, is the distinctness of our seasons. There is no mistaking our Fall, or Winter, or Spring, or Summer, for anything other than what they are. The beauty of each season is unique and awe inspiring.
The colors of fall are brilliant and something straight out of a Van Gogh palette. The crunch of the leaves as they dry after they are fallen, the smell of the harvest just before winter, and the gradient shortening of the days, all remind us that another year is drawing to its close and life is fluid.
Winter is spectacular, with its blues and silvers and the crisp cold that touches your cheeks and numbs your toes but is never quite harsh enough to confine you indoors or hinder your movement. Winter attempts to bite to the bone sometimes, but never really breaks. The landscape changes, the branches are bare, and the frost covers the fields every morning. Winter reminds us that life always takes a lull, hibernates, in order to refresh and come back with fervor and hope.
Spring is wet, with just enough chill to remind you its not yet summer but no longer winter either. The barren trees spring back to life with blossoms of pink and white and the streets once again find themselves shaded in every hue of green imaginable. The air is filled with the sounds of birds and the scent of blooms, and new life is all around.
And then without fanfare or ceremony spring suddenly becomes summer. The rains recede and the skies are a bright and comforting blue with the occasional wisp of cloud. The temperatures rise and the windows are opened to allow the fresh air and a mild breeze to flow freely through. A handful of "hot" days lies ahead but most of the days are comfortable and happy. The days are long with sunsets after 10 p.m. and the sounds of frogs and crickets fill the evening air. Hammocks are all full with stargazers awaiting the Leonids or counting orbiting satellites as they slowly cut a path across the black backdrop of the clear night sky. Weekends are filled with walks along the waterfront and the smell of freshly mowed lawns. Bar-b-que wafts through the air and tummy's rumble for hamburgers and watermelon.
This is the Northwest. This is what I love about my choice. Not just the pace of life, or the peace of home, or my wonderful friends, but the seasons. The clarity that life is grand, and ever changing, and if you blink....you might miss something wonderful. Don't blink.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Shadows in My Hallway
Have you ever found yourself simply reading a book or watching Game of Thrones when all at once every hair on your arms stands straight up? You know that feeling you get when you get a shiver and the prickly tingles on the back of your neck?
No not the prickly tingles when your foot falls asleep! The other ones! The ones triggered when you see something move in the shadows out of the corner of your eye. Your'e casually relaxing one minute and the next your heart is racing and your full of panic? paranoia? wonder? what is it? What is this feeling that has you jittery and checking your perimeter every few seconds. Maybe it was someone else who is home....no...that can't be it....everyone is either in the room with you or gone. Awwww....maybe it was one of the dogs.......no that's not it either...they are all outside running and playing in the yard, chasing ladybugs, and squirrels.
Could it be the gerbils got out?.....Nope still in the cage. The Tortoise....fat chance! Maybe shadows from the tree outside or a car driving by.....not likely.
So what is it? What causes those momentary shifts and disturbances? If it always happened when I was alone, I could attribute it to lonliness or fear. But it happens when the house is full of people too. A shadow crosses the hallway, or moves across the room, a shift in light and room temperature. Is it a ghost? Some poor soul trapped in the house, bound by unfinished business....maybe they can summon help? Is it one of the many spirits of those I've loved and lost, reassuring me that they are always there with me, nearby and present?
Is it simply energy, somehow compacted into a more dense field, shifting around me? Or is it much more innocent, basic, and silly, just my imagination, running wild?
I never know. But when it happens, it wakes me up and keeps on my toes. Sometimes I say, "Hi daddy, hows it going today?".....and sometimes I imagine I can hear his answer. That doesn't make me crazy.....does it?
For a realist, I actually enjoy tinkering in the unreal world, intangible all around us.
Do you have ghosts? What do you think it is? Maybe it's a dust cloud.....though that would be very bad for my OCD. :)
No not the prickly tingles when your foot falls asleep! The other ones! The ones triggered when you see something move in the shadows out of the corner of your eye. Your'e casually relaxing one minute and the next your heart is racing and your full of panic? paranoia? wonder? what is it? What is this feeling that has you jittery and checking your perimeter every few seconds. Maybe it was someone else who is home....no...that can't be it....everyone is either in the room with you or gone. Awwww....maybe it was one of the dogs.......no that's not it either...they are all outside running and playing in the yard, chasing ladybugs, and squirrels.
Could it be the gerbils got out?.....Nope still in the cage. The Tortoise....fat chance! Maybe shadows from the tree outside or a car driving by.....not likely.
So what is it? What causes those momentary shifts and disturbances? If it always happened when I was alone, I could attribute it to lonliness or fear. But it happens when the house is full of people too. A shadow crosses the hallway, or moves across the room, a shift in light and room temperature. Is it a ghost? Some poor soul trapped in the house, bound by unfinished business....maybe they can summon help? Is it one of the many spirits of those I've loved and lost, reassuring me that they are always there with me, nearby and present?
Is it simply energy, somehow compacted into a more dense field, shifting around me? Or is it much more innocent, basic, and silly, just my imagination, running wild?
I never know. But when it happens, it wakes me up and keeps on my toes. Sometimes I say, "Hi daddy, hows it going today?".....and sometimes I imagine I can hear his answer. That doesn't make me crazy.....does it?
For a realist, I actually enjoy tinkering in the unreal world, intangible all around us.
Do you have ghosts? What do you think it is? Maybe it's a dust cloud.....though that would be very bad for my OCD. :)
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