The Portland Zoo of People Watching............

Its like wild life safari without fences or barriers.  The wildlife wanders right up to you, past you, around you. People watching in downtown Portland is a fascination and day of amusement like none other. Pick a mild sunny day like this past Saturday, and make your way to heart of the city and then watch. Just watch. It's like lions and tiger and bears...oh my. Giraffes, and Emus, lemurs, mountain goats. They are all there, you just have to look and be careful not to get to close. You never know which ones might bite.

There are the crazy ones which clearly carry on conversations with themselves, usually involving a great deal of profanity and anger, as they confront their inner demons. There is the older woman who still wants to believe she is twenty and dresses the part, though she no longer has the legs for it and that short skirt only reveals the truth of her age through the sad thinning wrinkles of the skin on her legs.

You have the bohemian couple wearing layers of clothing who you imagine collect rainwater for bathing in barrels in their back yard. Their dreadlocks and odd sour scent clearly indicate a lack of hygiene and their personal stand against things like deodorant and soap. And the goth couple with their female pit bull who clearly just gave birth to a litter of puppies and isn't in the mood to be social. Now there is a ticking time bomb waiting to blow as you see the aggression and pain in her eyes every time another dog walks within her personal bubble.

You have the sunbathers, though it's barely 60 degrees even with blue skies; and those who are still wearing their sweaters and winter boots. Their are those in winter caps, and those in spring hats. Children playing on the fountain, not yet turned on by the city. Pet owners who have well trained animals and those with pets 5x their healthy weight, and then those pets are are sorely misbehaved. And you wonder, how and why does a loving pet owner allow that to happen?

There are loud talkers, who reverberate clear across the quadrant, and a mix of foreign languages. There are young people in love, youth gathering for a day of mayhem in the city, married couples, dating couples, elderly,  and singles. Poor, rich, professionals, and artistic. There are the tourists, and the new to the northwest, and an array of others.

Each has a unique quality and quirkiness that makes you watch, draws your attention even if only for a glancing second. It is a menagerie of beauty and beasts, colors distinct and muddied. The street performer, the doctrinator, those with a cause, and those who just want to be left alone.

People watching is like a going to a humane zoo....Where the animals are free to wander and live their lives. To hunt and feed, mate, and move about wherever their instincts take them as long as it follows the purview of society's basic rules.  People watching is different every time you do it, everyplace you go. The animals are always unique and special and though some qualities may be similar, the fascination is in the subtleties that make them different.

Spring Cleaning

Today is the first day of Spring 2014! A cause for celebration indeed. Winter is over, the grey skies will now magically disappearing, bluebirds will begin singing, small furry animals will scamper across fields of green and flowers will bloom.  The air will fill with the fragrant scents of blossoms as they burst forth from hibernation and the world will once again be set right on its axis. It could happen.

Truth be told,  that's what I am allowing myself to believe for this one day.  That Sunrise and Sunset have stricken a bargain with mother nature to put away the greyness of winter for the next 8 months and to allow Spring to lead the way for Summer and Fall,  setting a precedence with beauty and life renewed.

Isn't that the cycle? The bigger picture? The way it's always been? We just forget sometimes that its all part of this majestic miracle and that we are observers to a planetary evolution every year. Its really rather remarkable when you take the time to sit back and think about it. 

Stop running amok with your armas flailing about in your havoc filled chaotic lives for just one minute in one hour for one day and watch what is happening around you. Because it is freaking awesome.  Nature and all she has to offer, including mankind, are absolutely captivatingly spectacular. Its a live action 4D movie all day every day. Humor, action, thriller, horror, drama, love story, all rolled into one.

Now...for the downer...Spring brings with it spring cleaning...this includes the fireplace, closets, yards, garage, patio space, under and around furniture, windows, and perhaps even an assessment of life's choices. Am I on the right course and am I moving in the right direction?

Time to tackle, Getting busy, observing, assessing, cleaning, appreciating, respecting. Life is good and Spring is here.

Safety Committee...Am I REALLY the Best Choice?

I have recently been appointed by default to the Safety Committee for my Divisions at work.  We have two divisions and my predecessor left recently to pursue other career opportunities.  She had served as both the Safety Committee Scribe and subsequent Chair prior to her departure, and left a vacancy which needed to be filled.

Having no other interested parties and being the most senior administrative liaison in the division, the duties fell to me.  But...am I truly the RIGHT person for the job. It's debatable. Let's face it, I am not exactly the model for safety and good health.

When I was LITERALLY dying last October, I didn't ask for help or tell anyone, noooo........I didn't want to bother anyone with my issues, so I kept quiet, suffered in silence, and somehow, (God only knows how), drove myself for medical care.  NOT exactly the model for safe practices.  Then of course, there is the simple fact that I fall down, A LOT!.  I trip over my own two feet as if they were obstacles thrown in my way intentionally. Walking is not my strong suit, safety model.....its questionable. My fix for a cut, is superglue.  My motto when the boys were growing up was "No Blood, No Tears".  If its a drill, work through it. I don't think the safety committee would find my opinions on the overwrought irrational planning for pending disasters that may never come very complimentary. I am not a big fan of hitting the panic button.

I come to work to work, not to babysit others. I assume that everyone here is a qualified intelligent adult hired for a specific purpose and vetted for their skill set and knowledge.  I also assume that as adults we have all developed a sense of right and wrong and the ability to react appropriately in situations of health and safety. If you don't have the knowledge to handle something, then you step back and defer to someone who does. Its common sense.

I guess the concept of a safety committee makes sense and having a single point of contact to relay valuable information to each division is helpful, but the scope of the role seems to go beyond.  Given my track record and my own personal knowledge of ME, I just wonder if I'm the best person for the job.

Safety and my my name are usually not synonymous.  I'll do my best, because I always do, but I am more likely to be a candidate for modeling what NOT to do that for setting the example of what to do.

Closure..Seeking And Finding Peace Within

Have you ever spent time struggling against a force that feels a thousand times larger than you, knowing you can't win, but you can't give up either?

The odds of achieving what you truly believe you want are insurmountable, but you beat your fists against the wall until your knuckles are broken and bloody and yet....you still can't concede. To concede is to fail, and you don't allow or accept failure for yourself. So you regroup, bandage your wounds and try again. and once again you fall down.

Some of us, (me especially) are stubborn. We don't quit easily, and we don't walk away from a fight without giving it everything we have. It's in our nature to want to win, to succeed, to overcome. And so we torture ourselves endlessly it seems, to no avail. And then one day......

We realize, that what we think we wanted all along, wasn't real. It was never ours to have. Some things are never meant to be, and the only way to win is to recognize the difference and let go.

For years I thought I wanted to be part of something I never had, I was always on the outside looking in, and I thought I wanted in. I was wrong. I was meant to be free on the outside. Free to be me. Free to chose my family and my friends by following my heart strings not my blood lines. Free to appreciate the life I have earned with great honor and pride, and free from rejection and judgement of others.

In letting go over the course of the last 12 months, piece by piece, I have embraced the joy all around me, and learned that I am loved deeper and by more people than I could have ever dreamed. I have shed the child within seeking approval and ratification, and I have found a calm that washes over me and allows me to sit with myself and know contentment.

Those who would reject me, know nothing of the person I am, and those who would judge me, need only to look at themselves firstly before looking at others. I have no desire to reach out again, now or in the future. Some things are meant to be and others are not. If our fates should shift and intertwine once again someday, it will not be I who bleeds for the chance to open doors.

Today, I have closure. I sought and found peace, and I have no regrets and no sorry's to say.

Like the Sixth Sense...I See Dead People

Do you dream? Of course you do, what a silly question.  We all dream.  Do you remember your dreams?  Truth is that most of us only remember our dreams for a few moments upon waking and as we become more and more awake they slip away.  Our dreams are not meant to exist in the light of day. They live in the darkest recesses of our minds and only come to life when all else is at rest.

The fact is, most dreams mean nothing. They are influenced by our daily lives and interactions. Pieces of a conversation, a television show, a book, something we have seen or heard. Little details stick in our heads and give life to distorted visions in our sleep. Sometimes they are happy, sometimes they are disturbing, but most of the time they are innocuous and benign.

There are those dreams however, if you are open to them and able to recognize them, that can be signs and portents of things to come. Warnings and clues of what lies ahead. Path markers to guide us through the unknown. The key is in knowing how to tell the difference, and remembering the details.

Most people never think about the big picture.  They have a bad dream, or a sexy dream, a funny dream, or an absurd dream, and they remember the feeling of it and scant details and bits but nothing more. They may place more value and meaning in their dream than really exists.  If you really stop to think about your dreams and then think about your daily activities, 99 times out of 100 you tie them back to something you encountered along the way. They are simply manifestations of your imagination and that mystery of mind.

But that still leaves 1.  That 1 dream that has no ties to anything. That one dream that comes from no where. If you  are paying attention and tuning it, its a message and it may just save your life or someone you love.  It may help you make a decision, or find something lost. That Dream...that 1 in 100 can have greater meaning than you may ever anticipate, but you have to pay attention.

I like to journal my dreams, write down what i can remember when I first wake up, take notes on my phone or on a scratch paper before they disappear, and then refer to my dream manuals and see what they have to say. Usually, I get all worked up and then realize......oh yes....so and so and I were talking about that.....or....oh that right, I was thinking about that person......and then the dreams value becomes null.  But there are always those 1 in 100's.  they create the De'ja'vus. The I've been here befores. And you have. Because you dreamed it. A dream of portent and inner sight.

We all have it. It's a matter of tuning in.

My dreams, oddly enough are frequently filled with loved ones and acquaintances who have passed on. I see them frequently, perhaps only because they are always in my mind and heart. Or maybe because I am more concerned with my own mortality these days, I'm not certain, but they are always pleasant, never fearful and it brings me peace. I don;t think these are portent, I think they are explainable, but I see dead people and they smile.

Spring Is In the Air

For the second day in a row in the northwest, we have bright blue clear skies and sunshine. Even as I sit at my desk I can feel my mood warming with the weather, not that I ever really fluctuate one way or the other that drasticaly, but there is a definite buoy to my spirit. 

As hard as it is to adjust to the time change each spring, I do love driving home at night while the sun is still up. This morning when I arrived at work, I could hear the frogs in the nearby marshes. It's like every little thing is part of this grand symphony being written one note at a time.

The breeze, the bees, the birds, the crickets, the frogs, they all come back, and they all wake up to welcome and usher in another season of new life and new beginnings.

My daffodils are in full bloom and my rose bushes are starting to produce new leaves and signs of new buds. the trees are blooming and sprouting new leaves and the squirrels who were quieter in the winter, coming out only for food, are now out playing all day long.

Indoors, its time to clean out the fireplace and store things until fall again. Time to wash the windows and move the furniture to get any winter dust bunnies from underneath and behind. Clean off the patio,  refresh the lawn chairs, by the citronella and get ready for Spring and summer nights.

Goodbye Winter, its been real. See you next time you're in my neck of the woods, but now its time to focus on something brighter, a little less gray if you know what I mean. Not that I don't appreciate the cool crisp air and the comfort of the fireplace, but change is always nice.  It keeps life interesting.

As Luck Would Have It......

It would seem the old adage "Third times a charm" might hold some truth to it. Either that, or as we age we soften and become more flexible and tolerant , giving and forgiving.  But I think in my case.....its more luck.

Jeff and I just passed our 8 year anniversary and we seem to be getting better with each passing year. We have our moments of frustration, and utter breakdown, but then we take a deep breath, a step back; we re-assess where we are and what we have; we look at what lies ahead as well as where we've been and we remember that together we are stronger than when we are apart.

We bring out the best in each other and we push each other to be better.

Here are just a few of the things he does for me that let me know I am the center of his world.

1. Every morning, although he does not work until the afternoon he gets up with me. He starts my car so that it is warm by the time I leave. He ensures I have my phone and whatever else I need for the day. He gives me hug, walks me to the door and waits as I get in the car, buckle up, shift into reverse and look back to the door to wave good bye before he walks away.
2. On those days or evenings he is home with me or that I have not had the chance to change out of my work clothes before he arrives, he takes off my shoes.
3. When we eat a meal, he carries my plate and drink to the table for me and when I am through he gathers them and takes them back to the kitchen.
4. When I fall asleep in the chair waiting for him in the evening, he wakes me, helps to lower the footrest on the recliner and holds my hand as I stand up and make my way to the bedroom. He refills my water for the night.
5. So that I'm not alone, If I am ready for bed and he is not, he will sit in the chair in the bedroom instead of the living room, simply so that he is with me. He always gives me a triple kiss before we roll over for the night.

He does a million and one other things for me as well and I for him, but it's the details, the little nuances that matter. It's knowing what I need before I ask. It's the pepper with my eggs, and knowing what perfume I am wearing each day. It's cleaning the bathroom because he knows it makes me retch. Its the gestures and the smiles, the laughter and the warmth. But most of all ....

He lets me be me. Silly, serious, clumsy, chaotic, lazy, energetic, schizophrenic, or completely well balanced (maybe not ever). No matter how I come, he accepts me with open arms and never leaves my side.

Yes it my third try at this thing called love, partnership, or whatever term you apply, but this time....as luck would have it, I think I did alright.

Hiney Holes - Everybody has one

Excuses, Excuses.  Excuses are like hiney holes, everybody has one and no body wants to see or hear them. They are not pleasant.  Full of poop and wasted hot air.

We have reasons why we are the way we are, but either you chose to stand up and overcome your obstacles or you play the victim always making excuses for why you are a failure at one thing or another.

Life is a choice my friend.  One choice after another, after another.  Suck it up. If you want rainbows and unicorns get a lobotomy and have yourself committed. The day Tulips sprout from your butt crack is the day I discover I can stick coal up my hiney hole and squeeze out exquisite diamonds.  Red bull gives you wings, my eye. The only thing that can make you fly is United Airlines (or an affiliate) or a leap from a tall building in which case you will be sidewalk splatter in seconds.

Choices have consequences, good and bad. Learn it, live it, accept it. We are each equipped with the ability to decipher right from wrong. So use it. You had a bad childhood? Well so did about 50% of the population growing up in the 60's and 70's & 80's. Our generation was ripe with abuse and neglect. You were poor? Well maybe you can appreciate things more because of it.

So you've made mistakes that took you down dark and dangerous paths? Well, there are always forks in the road and new paths before us, we just have to be willing to take them. So make a turn. Sometimes the bravest thing to do, is to change. Take a stand and make a choice. Inaction and apathy are the equivalent of cowardice. Neutrality is playing it safe. Be decisive! Stand for something! Be real and be brave! Be Proud!

Stop making excuses for yourself and others. Be honest and truthful and learn to own who you are and where you come from. Don't rewrite history. Wear it proudly, for every step and every stone you've crossed has brought you where you are today. To rewrite it, would be to erase who you  have become, to deny who you really are.  You've made mistakes?  Hell yes! Who hasn't? The only shame is in not acknowledging that we are all flawed and we are all still learning. Did you lie, cheat, or steal? Did you get caught and pay the price? Did you learn a lesson and become a better person because of it? Then guess what........You Are Human! Welcome to the not so elite club.

No excuses. Everybody has a hiney hole, full of poop, lets not double down and add excuses to the pile of dookey. Stand tall, wipe your hiney, pull up your britches and move ahead.

The Biological Clock

My biological clock continues to go tick tock..tick tock. But not the way it used to. Gone are the days of wanting babies. I no longer feel the urge to procreate and have a little one of my own. My clock  ticks and tocks as I move ever closer to my empty nest. I'm preparing myself, nesting as it were, just as I did in the beginning when it first began, but this time its about preparing to let them go.

I've done all I can to ready them for what comes, and now I have to trust that they have taken the good, filtered out the bad, and will simply learn the rest. We each have our own journeys to travel and as a parent I hope I have provided the guidance and core that my boys need to draw on as they set out on their own personal journeys. My nest will be empty, but they can always come home to visit and they will always know they have a place to land, should they ever need it. Just because they fly away doesn't mean I stop being a mom. My job is forever! The scope of the work is changing a bit as I settle in to my new promotion, but I'll get used to it.

I thought that the looming empty nest would be more terrifying and depressing. But I am working hard to find alternative ways to fill my time and am discovering that although life will look different and feel different daily, it will  still be full and active. Its up to me to find my glass half full.

As my sons journeys take off, there will celebrations and events to share with them. There will be challenges and victories, and as mom, I will always be available to be their sounding board and their greatest fan. There will be daughter-in-laws and grandchildren, birthdays and holidays, dinners, and simple pop-in visits. Life will continue and flourish. And my glass will remain half full.

The only constant we can count on is change. We have to accept that life is always changing. We raise our children to be ready for adulthood and then we let them go.  Its our charge! We accept all the job comes with when we become mothers. We accept the joy and pain, the laughter and the tears. But the payoff is huge. We get the immeasurable honor and pride of watching them as they grow into adults and people we are in awe of. We look at them and think to ourselves how amazing the journey has been.

My nest is about to be empty. My clock continues to tick tock and I smile knowing that whatever come tomorrow is still part of the journey. It never ends, its simply changes.

Gestures

Gestures, they can be as simple as a smile, and yet........they have a ripple effect like a pebble in a pond. They radiate out from their impact point and they touch lives exponentially without even knowing it. Sometimes they take time and thoughtful preparation, and sometimes they are effortless and simple.

A gesture can change the temperature and outlook of someones days from gray to blue in a heartbeat. They can make someone who is sad feel hope, and someone who is lonely feel accepted. A gesture can touch the heart and in turn pay forward and touch the hearts of uncounted others.

Yesterday, I was in the company of women I hardly know, many of which, I have only met once or twice. And, while there,  I was the recipient of just such a gesture. The wonderful woman who was hosting, had heard of my dietary restrictions from the friend who had invited me to join. As our hostess, Judy, prepared for the event, she called my wonderful friend and asked of my specific needs. She then proceeded to make a special element of the meal just for me. I am not a regular member of the circle of women who gather, and yet this amazing woman took the time to consider my needs. To include me. Her gesture was thoughtful and kind, and it touched my heart. I am not a religious person, but I do believe in karma. I believe that what you put out in the world comes back to you. If I am right, and the karmic scales are always balancing themselves, then Judy has blessings coming her way for certain. As the day went on, I found myself observing, and it became apparent that Judy thinks of others often. She had small trinkets and gifts for many. She thinks of others all the time, and performs small acts of kindness that I am certain emanate forward.

A gesture can be as small as a smile, a hug, or a handshake.  It can be a thoughtful act of kindness that takes minimal effort or more, but you trust that whatever you put in, you will get back. The key is to give selflessly, without expectation.

Too often in today's society we find ourselves consumed by the demands our our days, our jobs, our lives. It's all about us, and we forget that we are all dependent on one another. We need each other to survive as a species. One small gesture, can impact the world. Like a pebble in a pond. one strand of DNA is difference between primate and man, one seed can create life. One gesture can make a difference.

Pay it forward.

Counting Sheep ...No More

Sleep....for so long it evaded me.  Before my first son was even born, the sleepless nights took hold. and for the next 21 years, I forgot what it was like to sleep, deeply.......soundly......the true restorative kind of rest that helps our body and mind to heal and function on a higher level.

I went to bed each night, but woke, easily, frequently. Movements, and sounds, however slight would stir me from my wavering state of slumber and I would wander the house checking in on my children, making sure doors were locked, & windows were latched. Sometimes I would sit in the living room until my eyes grew heavy, then make way way back to my bed between the cool sheets where I would drift off for just a while before sunrise. Sometimes, I just lay in the dark, listening to the small sounds around me, watching the shadows, waiting for darkness to creep back in. Sometimes I let my imagination take me places far away. Sometimes it took me to places I didn't want to go.

On those rare occasions I did find sleep, they were were extensive and like a college students cram session before final exams. I was trying to squeeze every second in and make up for all the lost time in a single event. They usually left me more tired than before, and then the insomnia for days afterwards was insane.

I called it mommy sleep. I didn't realize how severely it could impact my daily life and health. My temperament, my energy, my stress levels, even my weight. I read a lot of books. Watched a lot of b-movies, syndicated television and late night infomercials. I wrote in my journals and I played games on the Internet. I cleaned house quietly, and paced, and watched outside as the world slept and the cats wandered, and the raccoons scavenged, and the owls hunted, and my children dreamed.

And now..........ahhhhh..............Sleep. I forgot what it was like to simply fall asleep without fighting for it. To slip away without a thought, sometimes without even realizing it. To sleep for more that 2 hours in a stretch and deep enough to drown out the creeks of the walls shifting and the windows giving way to winds. To sleep  peacefully enough to be secure that those I love are safe and sound. That I am safe and sound.

I sleep so soundly now that my boys think its funny to play pranks and video tape them.  "Mom the house is on fire"......said loudly, yes some might even call it yelling....in my face as I slept peacefully in the recliner while they watched their favorite show, and video taped me sleeping while the house burned down......not really, but waking to their laughter was a little disorienting. :)  Jeff actually left and returned without my ever knowing he was gone one night....all while I dozed ever so gracefully in the living room.

I fall into bed and with the greatest of ease I now find myself falling asleep. I still have brief waking periods in the nights, and there are the rare occasions when a sleepless night still grips me...but mostly I enjoy my rest. 

Sleep is so underrated.  It is like the darkest chocolate, (divine), the finest Cabernet, the sweetest berry, and the grandest love, all rolled into one.  Its beach sand between my toes, and far away isles, and castles I've yet to explore. Its full of dreams and faces that drift away when I open my eyes, and I am grateful for every hour I get.

I Wrote a Letter........

I wrote a letter recently, a lost art for certain, and it felt good to get it all out on paper. Sometimes the healthiest thing we can do for ourselves is to process all our feelings on paper. It's tough to say things out loud, to capture all our thoughts without editing ourselves. We hear the words and we are conditioned to soften them and make them kinder, gentler, and lets be honest....less real.  Sometimes raw is what we need. Sometimes pure truth is called for. You tell it like it is and suddenly you are free.

I tried not to be cruel, but to simply state the truth as it was. It may have caused some pain as it broke through the layers of denial, but after all this time, it had to be done.  We cannot be allowed to skate through life never accepting responsibility for our actions and choices.

I face my choices every day. I stand ready to defend my choices if necessary as I believe in them. I weigh my options and think before I act, always. I rarely speak or open my mouth without first considering my audience and the repercussions of what I might say.  It is our individual responsibility to ensure that we hold not only ourselves accountable  to our choices but those we interact with as well who directly impact us. It is not my job to accept the weight of someone else decisions as my own. I have enough to carry through this life, I don't need the extra load of someonbody who is shirking their duties.

I found writing the letter was a path to freedom. I was able to cut the ties that had bound me for years. The letter allowed me to address long held feelings and thoughts that, once put to pen, evaporated like disappearing ink from my heart and mind. It was like writing the final chapter of an epic novel and placing it on the shelf. Closing the book and knowing that once lived it was not a story you would feel compelled to live or revisit again.

I have no regrets about the Letter I wrote, but perhaps next time I will try writing a letter of happier tones and words. Something to someone I love and cherish and wish to foster an ongoing and continued bond with. A leeter of happy times and shared laughter.

Writing is a lost art. They no longer teach penmanship or cursive in schools. Its all about keyboarding, and computers. The need to spell and use proper grammar will soon fade as well. Tomorrows generation will rely on artificial intelligence to do their thinking for them.  As for me,  I much prefer keeping the artistry alive. Fostering the talent of thought and text.

 I wrote a letter...and I have a feeling it was the first of many.

Getting past the Flaws, Sometimes Vintage has Character

Do you always have to buy new?  I confess, I used to. The idea of owning something someone else once owned kinda freaked me out. The story of where it had been led my imagination to its darkest corners, spooky dank smoke filled rooms, musty dives, homes where the dead lay for days until some snoopy neighbor discovered them. I imagined that bringing these once owned pieces into my home would invite the spirits of their previous owners with them and I would have to deal with and eventually kick their proverbial haunted asses back to where they belonged,  I mean help them move on. 

We've already established my patience, at times, is not my strongest suit, but then again, reading this might lead you to believe that neither is sanity. Helping the dead, would probably be a tough gig for me is I ran into a stubborn one.

Well, as I become a living breathing representation of vintage myself, I have discovered an new appreciation and fondness for the antique and pre-owned abundance around us.

Chips and cracks, scratches and dents, as long as they don't take away from the overall form and function, can contribute to the character and story of the item. A beautiful lamp or vase or bowl from the depression era can be stunning. That shawl or pashmina your grandmother wore, has an artistry and beauty in its craftsmanship that can't be found in today's made in China clothes market.

Like those small ornamental pieces I am finding myself drawn to, I too am full of flaws and signs of my age as the years go by. My hands are aging, no longer the soft smooth skin of a young woman but thinning and beginning to show signs of wrinkles.  So too are my neck, and cleavage. I fight the gray with Clairol by my side, and my health is now high on my list of priorities. I have scratches and dents, dings and nicks, just like the pieces I find to adorn my shelves. All I can hope is that my children and my friends can embrace and appreciate me as much as I have learned to appreciate the inanimate vintage I once deplored and feared.

I realize now, that not all stories are ghost stories. Some stories are sweet. Some are sad. Some are inspirational. Some are empty. But in the end, our objects just move on to someone else, and all we can wish for is that someone will find a place for them.  As for us, we too move on, and if we are lucky we will find a place in the hearts of those who loved us best.  In the meantime, we should live well, and love better. Embrace the vintage, be vintage, show your character, wear your flaws with pride.

Family Ties, and Whips, and Chains.............

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.

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.  

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.