It's a Gypsy World

Time After Time

2011-08-15T17:13:00.006-04:00

The cyclical nature of life becomes more and more apparent the more trips around the sun I am blessed to make. Ups, downs, happys and sads along with the diagonals and curves in between. When I am at the summit, it seems like I can see a great many instances of having been on top of the world, everything going more or less "right". When I'm at the lowest points, it is cramped and claustrophobic... And seemingly without beginning or end, just a perpetual state of "s[t]uck".

To me, keeping perspective means I can hold enough light aloft to shine into the darker corners of my psyche so that, while I might not be able to keep the dark places cleaned out, I at least have an understanding of what's in them. However, holding onto perspective has its challenges and I, for one, have never considered myself infallible.

From my particular vantage, at this point in time and space, I can see plenty of positive on the horizon and even around myself right this moment. Perhaps I choose to see it this way; perhaps it's the only way TO see it. But I also see a lot of misery, ennui and strife, which saddens me immeasurably, especially when it's happening to my friends and acquaintances.

One friend has been suffering from a mild traumatic brain injury (MTBI) from a car accident that happened almost a year ago. Due to complications from her injuries and the pending litigation, here is no money, even for the most basic things, and very few ways to earn any legally. No, she's not contemplating anything inappropriate, but she is having to get very creative. As anyone knows who's been there, when you slather on a side of depression, "creative" isn't the easiest row to hoe.

Another friend has a safe, comfortable home but has no formal, consistent income to meet other basic needs. She's a talented writer and craftsperson, a good mother to her children and a good partner and friend but the world weighs on her. Lifelong depression has meant she's spent more time in the aforementioned cramped spaces than soaring through the clouds. For her, every time the hammer falls, it seems like there are fewer and fewer reasons for her to stand herself up again.

In my own family, we have elderly members who are struggling for the essentials of life while still wanting to help "provide" for the family as a whole. We all pitch in but it's barely enough and no one should have to go wanting when they've spent their lives working, providing, caring and doing all they were capable of only to get to the last phase of the game to find out they're out of coins.

Other acquaintances are struggling with recent medical diagnoses like A-Fib, possible Crohn's disease, leg pain and numbness, and cancer... Learning what their new lives are going to look like while struggling to comprehend the cost it will carry (literally and emotionally). Still others are trying to navigate the wilds of child custody arrangements, particularly on the less established side of fathers as the primary custodial parent.

Of course, this does not even begin to draw on the myriad families unknown to me personally who have lost their incomes, their family members, or their dignity and are suffering in inconceivable ways.

Being in relatively good health, living in a stable, dual-income household, and finding that my world is blossoming like never before, it's not always easy to retain my own "happy" when there's so much "not happy" nearby. Nothing is ever perfect, but I'm coming to a point of comfort with that and I'm satisfied with the present moment's reality. I'm wishing more than ever that there were more I was capable of doing, of giving. The time, meals, gifts and emotional support I am able to give, I do. When I'm unable, I don't allow myself to feel guilty because that simply feeds the negative loop and allows things to remain out of balance.

It seems to me, though, that being a beacon of light when I am able is the best role for me to pursue. Yes, I'm wildly imperfect at it, but it is great fun to try. For myself, for my children and spouse, for my extended family, friends and acquaintances, for the people I've never met in person. Big dreams, big aspirations, I know. I have no need to wonder if I can fulfill my purpose - I just know that I do with each breath I take and that's enough for me.

Taken In

2011-08-12T23:16:00.000-04:00

Writing post titles amuse me. Almost always, at least with mine, there's a double entendre that occurs to me. The first one that occured to me this evening was of the dress-alteration variety because, thanks to Adrienne at The Rich Life on a Budget, I have a lovely new red dress hanging in my closet, waiting for me to create an "occasion" (mind you, I shall).

I suppose this could also be about taking in a child or a stray animal... But it's not.

No, this post isn't about anything quite so enjoyable.

It's about this letter* I received in the mail yesterday, accompanied by a $997.70 check from a hospital's account, drawn on a Wachovia Bank in Virginia:

Melrose Markerting Inc.
465 Edgar Ave
Vancouver, BC
V5M 8K9
Phone: 1 905-598-0206

DATE: July 29, 2011
CLAIM: GR27630602

SWEEPSTAKES CLAIM NOTIFICATION

FINAL NOTICE
We have made unsuccessful attempts to contact you regarding your Consumer Rewards Program winning.

In accordance with the Consumer Rewards Program Commission Policy, your prize award money has been forwarded to our clearing / disbursement institution to release your funds to you.

Your lump sum payout is US $9,600.00(NINE THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS) CONGRATULATIONS!

Kindly contact Claims Agent Kelly Evans at 1-905-598-0206 as soon as you receive this notice for further instructions on how to claim your grand winning.

We have enclosed a check in the letter. Per your state regulations, you will be required to pay a tax and processing fee before your lump sum winning can be sent to you. Payment will be made directly to your tax agent. You will also need to fax you tax payment receipt to the fax number above.

Yours Sincerely,

N. Deeks
Nathan Deeks
PROMOTION MANAGER

HOURS: MONDAY TO FRIDAY FROM 9AM TO 6PM

A word of explanation. Okay, several words. First: I am almost relentlessly pragmatic. My dreams, and I do have many, are quite attainable, mostly rather practical. (Some people might say, "Boring." Doesn't bother me a bit.) Second: My days of being dazzled by get-rich-quick and MLM ventures (a.k.a. pyramid schemes) are long over. I admit to some particularly poor choices in that arena when I was in my early twenties. Third: I really don't believe in "something for nothing".

That said... I was momentarily taken in. Sure, I was skeptical, but I have given in the to occasional online or phone survey that offers entry into a sweepstakes just for participating, so there was a possibility, albeit a very slight one, that this could be legit. My husband and I Googled every part of the company name, address, people named in the letter, "Consumer Rewards Programs", etc. and found nothing at all - certainly nothing that screamed, "SCAM!"

Then I did the next logical thing that occurred to me: I picked up the phone and called the number. The woman who answered identified herself Kelly Evans. I asked her a few questions about the process, told her I didn't recall having entered any particular contest. She said she could answer my questions, that I wouldn't have to make the tax payment until I filed my 2011 taxes, but that they send the first check of approximately 10% so that there's a kind of proof that you have enough to cover the taxes when they do come due and to verify that the winners have been informed of the taxes on the winnings. (Or something along those lines... It's late and there's a 7-year-old babbling at me just now...)

So I allowed myself some uncharacteristic daydreaming. (Note: I do daydream, frequently, but usually about fiction stories I'm writing.) What could I do - what WOULD I do - with $8,600 (approximate post-tax winnings).

I would pay off the majority of my credit card debt - enough so that I could pay off the remainder by the end of the year. I would pay for my car tags (which are due in a few weeks). I would pre-pay our car insurance for the next six months. I would give my mom a little extra to help cover expenses when she comes to visit next weekend. I would take some extra with me to visit my family up north when I go in a couple weeks.

See? Practical and pragmatic and responsible. Alright, you caught me, there was one final purchase on the list: a new yoga mat from Manduka. Specifically, The Goods Package:

I'll take mine in Electric Midnight Thunder, please.

So it was with some trepidation that I took the check to the bank today. With that much thought invested in it, a part of me had already formed an attachment to the idea. I didn't have a clue about any of this before yesterday afternoon, yet by today at lunchtime, it seemed almost "mine".

Then the bad news... Apparently, it's a common fraudulent scheme. You cash the check, you make the tax payment, you never get the remainder of the "winnings". And I experienced disappointment. Mixed with a tinge of embarrassment because the girls behind the counter immediately made those, "Oh, we've seen this before, it's fake" replies to my inquiry about the check, along with the unspoken, "Really, you must've known all along that this was too good to be true."

Yeah, I guess I did. But I'd let myself hope all the same.

It's probably a good, serendipitous thing that I've been re-listening to the podcasts that Oprah did with author Eckhart Tolle a few years ago as a read-along of his book, A New Earth. There is a lot of explanation about forms and attachment to forms and emotions of pain or sadness that can arise when you lose a form to which you have formed an attachment. This check and the promise of winning this money had become my big moment of change, my turning point where I finally have all (or at least most) of my ducks in a row, and can move on to the "bigger and better" parts of my life.

Sweetheart, it ain't gonna be quite that easy. It will take time and effort and there is satisfaction to be had in that thought and those actions. I staved off the tears with some conscious breathing, allowed myself to feel taken in without pointing an angry finger at "those people who did this to me". I was grateful that I'd thought to take the letter with me to the bank so that they can follow it up and maybe catch the perpetrators. I was also grateful that I didn't blindly deposit the check, use the money then find out later that I would have to repay it. That would've been far worse than losing it before I'd really gotten it.

My credit cards will wait for me to pay them off in my own plodding time. I will come up with the car tag money from somewhere. I will pay the car insurance monthly if need be. I will cook for my mom when she visits, fill her tank up before she departs if I can. I will take whatever money I am able with me on my visit up north.

And I accept that I will get The Goods when the time is right for them to be part of my life.

*I did my best to recreate the letter faithfully, including the misspellings. I was going to scan it, but my scanner is being crabby... If it turns out that this is NOT a scheme, I will remove this post altogether so that I cannot be sued for libel or slander or defamation or whatever.

Aye, Dream

2011-08-03T12:40:00.000-04:00

Giving myself permission to dream big can be a real stretch. Yes, really, it's true - I'm such a pragmatist, perhaps because I'm a Virgo or perhaps because my father and his stepfather are both practical men (also Virgos) who heavily influenced my thinking. Often enough as a child, I'd make an offhand comment about something I wanted and one or the other of them would launch into a detailed explanation of what steps one might take were one to actually attempt to acquire the object of my desire. All three of us are also left-handed and creatively inclined, particularly in pursuits that require logic - for me, that means crocheting with its attendant mathematical constructs.

But back to dreaming… When my husband (and I love him for this) talks about his next big idea or the book that we're writing together, he thinks so far out of my comfort zone that I tend to just sort of tense up. With our book, it may be, "We could be the next J.K. Rowling with the next Harry Potter!" or "We could have movies made from our series, like Twilight, Percy Jackson or His Dark Materials!" Always punctuated with an exclamation. All of which makes me feel very nervous and as though I'm standing on the edge of a precipice. I don't want to disappoint him, but J.K. Rowling is probably a once in FOREVER phenomenon and sure, movies regularly get made from books, but we haven't even finished chapter one of ours so that possibility seems impossibly far out beyond the horizon.

Still, his dreams make a good counterbalance to my own. Mine that often look something more like: "Maybe I'll get a blog post written this week," or perhaps "I'd like to try to get three loads of laundry done AND put away this week."

What would I dream up if I allowed those boundaries to really dissolve? Don't know - let's find out…

I dream of travelling around Europe and elsewhere to experience different cultures firsthand, allowing my remaining preconceived notions about what's "normal" to fall away.

I dream about a writer's retreat that is a small but cozy space with a kitchen(ette) and a place to lie down for a cat nap (or a rip-roarin' snooze). Maybe a Mother-in-Law's cottage adjacent to a larger home, maybe an elegant loft in a large city, maybe just a gussied up tool shed. I've actually entertained the latter quite recently during trips to Lowe's and Home Depot - aren't they adorable? Ostensibly, they'd be heated and cooled by solar power.

Outdoor Living Today's Pentagonal Penthouse Garden Shed at Home Depot

Cedarshed Clubhouse (8' x 16') at Lowes

I dream about having plenty of cash on hand for whatever might arise, need or want, so that I don't have to scramble about, make do or resort to a beg/borrow/steal mentality. By this, I don't mean millions of dollars. Frankly, I don't know how I'd quantify it. A bank account that perpetually had a balance of any given whole number followed by at least three zeros would probably fulfill this criterion. Four zeros wouldn't be bad either…

I dream about contributing to my/our world in a meaningful way - making gum (more specifically, reporting on the process of making gum) certainly isn't wrong in any inherent way, but it doesn't really feel like we're doing anything of genuine worth to improve the world in any qualitative way. Quantitatively, we're manufacturing a lot of "stuff" and I might have just a wee issue with that, but we're not the sole contributors to that monster, so…

I dream about writing books that people enjoy reading and purchase as gifts for their friends and discuss over cups of tea (or coffee, if they must). I'd even be tickled to hear complaints because that still means I've triggered something in them strong enough to elicit a response.

I dream about helping people begin to peel back the layers of gauze that obscure their sight so that they can see more facets of the amazing, wonderful, beautiful, astounding, awe-inspiring world of people, animals, plants, minerals and elements around them. I am already working on my own gauze, wispy and ethereal as it is.

I want to help other Picky Eaters become Persnickety Eaters in whatever form suits them best. And write memoir cookbooks of their journeys and my own.

I do dream. I can dream big and vague and not worry whether my dreams are at all feasible or how I might accomplish them or in what timeframe and with what resources. Yes, I acknowledge that manifesting my dreams - any of them - will require specific action, but never worry. Worry serves no purpose but to delay progress toward whatever goal I might pursue.

What are your BIG dreams?

Exposing Personal Myths

2011-07-27T16:00:00.010-04:00

What ecstatic fun you can have examining the myriad myths of a misspent youth!

While I was in the shower this morning (because you needing the setting), I had an epiphany (because epiphanies and hot water seem to go hand in hand). Here's what I remembered: I used to think that "thin" had a weight limit and that was 110 pounds (roughly 50 kg)...

HUH?!? No wonder I had weight/body image issues! I have no idea where that number actually came from, but there it was as if from one of Moses' stone tablets.

Okay, well, that might be exactly what thin looks like for some folks (and my sincere blessings to you if you are in that category), but at 5'10" tall, that wouldn't have been "thin" for me. That would have been skeletal.

Luckily for me, I spent most of my excessively athletic high school years between 135-145. No, I didn't realize then how thin I actually was, but I have a great appreciation for that fact now. During college, I padded out a little, but still stayed between 145-160. Well within healthy norms for my height and build. I happen to have dense muscle mass (or so my chiropractor insists), so the scale weight for me of say, 140, equates to a size 5/6.

Right now, late-30's and post-babies, I'm aiming for a comfortable size 7/8, whatever that happens to look like on the scale. That's a drop of only about 3 sizes, nothing requiring surgery or hyper-restrictive dieting, but still a challenge on every face of it. I've been doing a yoga-pilates class several nights a week for about 2 months and I can tell a difference, but it doesn't seem to be quite "enough". Yes, there's that word, but I'm not applying it to myself in this case but rather my choice of physical activity.

So I joined a walking team at work. It's the first time they've done this so I don't know many of the details but I got my pedometer this morning and it's almost insanely fun to see how my regular walking adds up. Our manufacturing facility is quite large and though I don't often venture into the vast recesses, I do at least make the trek to/from my vehicle in addition to walking up and down a large flight of stairs several times each day. The pedometer measures to the thousandths of a mile so every step (or five) adds to the total.

As I've delved deeper into exposing myths (like "my ideal weight *should* be 110 lbs."), I've built healthier, more realistic concepts to take their place. Yoga, walking - maybe even running if I can beat the insane summer heat - these help me construct that framework that will sustain me through the rest of my years (which I plan to be numerous).

What personal myths have you excavated from your childhood/youth?

Shine On

2011-06-29T09:37:00.000-04:00

This might not be obvious from previous posts - in fact, this might run entirely contrary to previous posts, come to think of it - but I am a relatively happy person. With few breaks in continuity, I have primarily looked upon the world in general with a glass-three-quarters-full, anything-is-possible sort of attitude. It's no coincidence that the first tattoo I chose was a sunshine with a Northward-pointing compass directional above it. Sunny, happy-go-lucky, joyous, brighten-your-spirits - I identify deeply with those descriptors.

In my darkest of days (the ones that seem most often to find their outlet here), one or the other of the wonderful people whom I cherishingly (is that a word?) claim as friends nearly always manages to remind me that I am valuable, to them and to my boys and to others as well. In the throes of pain, it's not always easy to dredge up (or believe) that kind of information by myself. It's much, much easier to believe that my contribution to this world is so little as to be utterly insignificant, which invariably breeds the thought: "Then what's the point?"

There's always a point, to every life that exists then ceases to exist. How we perceive, receive, believe and allow those lives to achieve their ends provides us with the reason. When we stifle life, our own or others, we cause damage that's impossible to measure. Still, those times are ripe for learning, too, in the endless, formless, timeless way that existence simply happens.

As I continue to emerge from my current cycle, rising into the next one with just a little more grace, a little more wisdom, a little more experience, and just possibly a little less baggage, I can feel a radiance beginning to grow within. It's always been there, though it's been frightfully dim for too long. With continued nurturing, that light will once again have the chance to shine through - Future's so bright, we're all gonna need shades!

What Is Real?

2011-06-09T16:30:00.002-04:00

There are game changers, paradigm shifts, that leave a person grasping for threads of reality, some shard of a comfort zone, a leg on which to stand. One of those turning points happened to me seven years ago when my first child was born. My whole world changed hue: my eyes saw differently and my brain processes were permanently altered in ways to multitudinous to enumerate. That was an incredibly difficult time period for me - over two years of feeling like I was on a flaming, sinking ship rather than "over the moon" (which was how I thought I should feel about the beautiful little boy I'd been gifted with.)

Almost seven years to the day later, I've reached another long-sought-after pivotal event: I had a real conversation with my father. A genuine heart-to-heart, devoid of the amorphous tension that has plagued our interactions for too many years, wherein I got to ask some of the hard-to-ask questions I'd only recently been able to formulate coherently and to which he responded openly. There was no sense of judgment, no feelings of regret or necessity for apology; I had no attachment to or desire for any specific answer. We just talked.

I opened the conversation via email because it was comfortable to me to do so. That gave me the opportunity to carefully craft what I wanted to express, give all the background I felt was pertinent, make sure I meant everything I said and that it held both the gravity and genuine curiosity which I felt without laying any blame or pointing any fingers.

What I truly felt was needed for my healing to progress was for some gaps to be filled. What I experienced was infinitely more profound: the entire story required intense revision. I'm still working on bits and pieces of it but the basics have been modified so wholly that it's left me a little lightheaded. My husband even commented that my conversation must have gone well because I seemed much more happy than I'd been in a while. He was right on the money.

In its grittiest short form, the story I'd believed for so long that I'd simply accepted it as whole cloth, was that, as I was nearing the end of third grade, I had to go live with my grandparents because they were the only ones who could take me. There were multiple, emotionally charges layers in my mind as to why this was: I was too much of a burden on my stepmother because she had two small children of her own with another coming in a few months; my mother didn't have the financial resources to care for me; my grandparents only had one of their four children still at home so they were stable enough to take me in. All of these factors, for me, carried a sense of me being a hassle, a challenge to be dealt with, a frustration that needed to be handled because it couldn't easily be gotten rid of all together rather than a child who needed to be loved and cared for. Of course, it was never said to me in so many words - these are concepts that I applied later as I tried making sense of my memories as my mental processes matured. Not having any other evidence or input than my experience (which no doubt included things the adults in my life said to me without realizing the impact they'd have for me), I went along for the better part of three decades with an omnipresent sense of abandonment, perpetually questioning the love that should have been obvious but which was, for me, always in doubt.

What my father gave me was context. My mother had surmised much of what we discussed, but he filled in many of the varied circumstances and situations at play at that particular time in our family's history: extenuating financial challenges, intense work stresses, family in-fighting, the crossroads he was at personally in his career. The decision for me to go live with my grandparents, at its most basic, was based on everyone's desire for me to have a stable school environment. I'd already been in four schools in three states (VA, FL and MI) over the course of my first through third grade career so this factor alone had significant impact. The other obvious benefit was that my grandparents, my grandmother in particular, doted on me so it was understood that it would be a loving home for me. I admit that I was spoiled while I was there, but it certainly was a place where I felt fully loved.

What I missed was the sense of belonging - when I left my sisters and my brother-to-be, the home and parents I'd known for so many of my very early years, I never again felt like a proper part of that family. I was a guest, a visitor, more like a close cousin than a sibling/child. Strangely, however, my sisters and brother have always felt fully my siblings despite the fact that they share a mother with each other and, biologically speaking, I only share a father with them. I don't know whether that feeling is as strong for them since they were so little when I departed their daily lives, but they've never seemed like "half-siblings" to me.

My challenge now, my opportunity for growth, is to use this chance to make my personal history revisions and move forward with more confidence, more solid footing that this greater understanding of my life brings to me. It's a gift that has great potential for outward expansion; in what ways might I use this knowledge to be of service to others, helping them heal from their old wounds? Yes, mine own wounds still need careful ministration, more healing salve, more holes need filling in. And that's just fine.

I can say with certainty that this one conversation will ultimately prove integral to the next steps in my spiritual and emotional evolution - with any luck at all, I'll be able to permanently dissolve some of the angst that's nipped at my heals incessantly throughout my adult life. Exercises like this post will help me document those feelings so I can recognize them should they start stealing their way back in as well as solidifying my new story. I like it.

In what ways might you be able to examine your story and act as your own life editor?

Happy Trails

2011-06-06T18:33:00.000-04:00

Oh... I guess you could take that title to mean something it ought not imply. Here, think of the song instead: "Happy trails, to yoooooou!" There now, that's better.

The husband and I took the boys to the park this weekend, ostensibly to ride bikes. Our elder son had just conquered the two-wheeled creature and we thought the younger might enjoy tooling around on his trike. Not so.

We'd been there not more than 15 minutes when Ian Bean (all of two-and-a-half) took off down a nearby trail. I figured I'd follow him for a few minutes then turn back but the Noodle Doodle decided two-wheeled biking was for schmucks (or something along those lines) and bailed for the trailhead, too. So, we took a walk. As a family. And really enjoyed the next couple miles of easy ups-and-downs.

May not look like much,
but it's a nice, quiet little park.

Big Boy on his Big Boy Bike

Bowling for Babies

Not at all thrilled with the state of things.

Site of the Noodle Dude's First Birthday Party Six Years Ago

A little young to be setting out on one's own...

Trailblazer 1.0

Holding Daddy's hand as we enter The Forest.

Just Cool

"Stick!"

Trailblazer 2.0

What are those things in the trees?

Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah BAT MAN!

Like a wooded wonderland.

This dude tried to hitch a ride on my skirt.

Noodle Finding His Stride

Trees are fun, m'kay?

Because teasing your children
comes with the territory.

Tired Boy

Whoa!

"Ma, up!"

Almost made it.

The little one only needed a bit of carrying and the bigger one only made a couple, "I'm tired," comments. I think this is the basis for some lovely family outings to come - we went about two miles round trip and there are plenty more like this one in our nearby vicinity. I haven't always enjoyed living in Georgia, but experiencing it with these guys is like seeing for the very first time all over again.

Just Weight

2011-05-26T09:30:00.000-04:00

There's this conversation that plays in my head, not a perfect loop because it changes slightly with each iteration. The tone varies from mildly disappointed (a sort of "tsk-tsk") to aggressively condemning (this end of the spectrum is rather frightening). The content has been more or less unchanged for the past twenty-odd years. Yes, it occurs to me that that represents just over half of my lifetime.

A sample, at any given moment, might sound a bit like this:

You really shouldn't eat that [ hot dog / Dairy Queen Blizzard / cheese pizza ] because you've already had plenty of food today. There's no real reason why you should be hungry at all. If you have to eat something, it should really be a vegetable, but nothing too heavy. No pasta, no bread, no cookies. Really, you're a size what? And why haven't you been to the gym? If you really wanted to, you'd make time to get to the gym, at least several times a week for at least an hour or so each time. And you should always have all the laundry done so you won't ever need to scrounge for gym clothes. You used to be really fit when you were younger, what happened? The [ shirt / bra / jeans ] you're trying to squeeze into are going to show all of your fat rolls then no one will see anything but that, not listen to anything you have to say because they'll be gawking in horror at the rotund and obese monstrosity that stands before them masquerading as human. Perhaps it'd just be better if you hid somewhere, better than exposing yourself to other people. Why did you let it get this bad? What is wrong with you that you didn't fix this before now? You've been thin before, even if you didn't always know it; surely to goodness you can do it again.

So… I'd better stop there because it's only getting uglier by the second; I've already got a lump the size of a baby whale in my throat and tears threatening to spill. Something to know about me: I would never even entertain harsh thoughts like that about any other person. Sure, there might be a couple folks out there whose actions I find utterly reprehensible and disgusting, whose demise I certainly wouldn't mourn, but I wouldn't layer two decades worth of harsh, judgmental criticism and scathing hatred on them? Just, no.

I wouldn't pile the pyre that high then never set it alight, never set it free.

What is it in my psyche that clings to this? Why can I not seem to bring forgiveness to myself for this one aspect of my self? Why does every single food choice, each morsel that I lift to my mouth, have to come under scrutiny? Why have I equated the number on the scale or the size of my clothing to my value as a human, my worthiness of approval and love? How can I release the guilt, accept myself as I am in this moment, know that I will change when I put the effort into changing, and be okay with life as a process, not an end result?

I use this blog to explore those things which most challenge or inspire me and I understand that sometimes makes for morose reading. Strangely enough, many friends have equated me with sunshine, told me I'm someone who brightens their day, which is my way of sharing with readers that I'm not always a wound-up ball of self-despising panic. Just internally. Hahahahaha.

I am getting help to work on changing these mental patterns but the written word has long been so cathartic for me. It's my best refuge from the storms in my brain, the perfect safe harbor. From here I can explore the things I can't always speak out loud lest the tears fall and lay me bare to endure more hurt.

Oh, the psychology of it all… it's just weight, not who I AM.

Castles in the Sky

2011-05-02T21:12:00.000-04:00

A bit of overindulgence is in order following a seven-and-a-half mile trek I took last weekend. Walking is an activity I enjoy, especially when the weather is absolutely perfect like it was that day: Sunny, scattered clouds, and 70's with a light breeze. I could've trekked on and on and on...

My journey began at home, small child in a jog stroller, larger child on a Razor scooter (yes, with a helmet), stroller basket equipped with snacks, drinks, phone, camera and keys. No iPod or other distractions - the phone was there for "just in case". All of which gave me plenty of time to think. Since the conditions were so delightful, my thoughts were mostly pleasant and influenced by my surroundings.

I considered what I would really love to accomplish and thought, why not make this a walking meditation. Better yet, why don't I make a plan to put this in a form that will be easier to make manifest: the written word. Okay, consider it done. Now where to start?

Firstly, I have to give thanks for what we have: a lovely home that is large enough for our family, in a safe neighborhood that suits our family at this moment because there are a lot of children Noah's age for him to play outside with. Hubby and I are both gainfully employed by companies that are currently enjoying growth. We have vehicles in good repair, we never go hungry, and we even have enough to share a little here and there.

As for building my castles in the sky, there are a great many things I aspire to achieve, both for myself and for my family. In no particular order and intentionally written in present tense...

Our home is a modest 4-bedroom home with a finished, walk-out basement with plenty of space for overnight guests on 10+ acres of land with lots of well-spaced, mature trees interspersed with flat, grassy areas (in which to throw a football or baseball). Inside, there are large, open living areas, a well-equipped modern kitchen, and built-in bookcases in each room. The home is comfortably shaded, a nice breeze blows through when the windows are open, and there is plenty of natural lighting.

Our city of residence is of modest size with many necessities available from locally-owned businesses. We are active participants in the shaping of new business opportunities in our local area.

My dear, sweet spouse and I have plentiful sources of income that allow us freedom to choose with discrimination which projects we wish to complete and which we prefer to respectfully decline. My projects are related to writing, crafting, photography, food, public speaking, and web-based commerce.

We nourish and care for our bodies with consciously grown foods and cleansing products as well as good exercise, especially outdoor activities like hiking and gardening. We talk to our children more and work on the computer less. We know people in our community by their first names - and we know their children's and pets' names, too.

Our home has a place for everything and most everything stays in its place when not in use. Excess and clutter have given way to those things we actually utilize and/or truly treasure.

There are abundant opportunities for us to travel around North America and overseas that balance well with the time we spend at home. When we are abroad, we eat according to our preferences and stay in soul-enriching locales.

Our finances are healthy and sustain us well as we age.

In short, our life is intentional, mindful and created by us, as we choose to live it.

What sort of castles are you building in your sky?

Gifted

2011-04-16T09:51:00.000-04:00

Taxes are beckoning (it's a frightening, crookedy finger that Tax Man has...) but I HAD TO acknowledge a lovely gift that arrived à notre Georgia-based maison yesterday afternoon all the way from my blogger friend Jess in California who writes Zoe. No, we've never met in person. Yes, I believe we are friends by soul, in Spirit, in shared tribulations, and in the vastly different circumstances that have made us each into the people we are.

Thank you, Jess, for this:

What's in this package?
And how did the Post Lady fit it in the mailbox?

Cheesy "I'm posing for a picture" Grin

Anticipation!!!

Inhale Deeply

Eucalyptus-y Wonderfulness!!!

Aren't they lovely?

Thank you!!!

Grief Gratitude Grace

2011-04-13T17:00:00.013-04:00

Graceful Beauty

Lately, I've been doing a lot of grieving. For the people of Christchurch, New Zealand, and Miyagi Prefecture, Japan, and their relatives around the world. For Chad. For a high school classmate who's suffering an inconceivable loss.

I'm almost embarrassed to admit that grieving for them makes me feel grateful, but isn't that almost always the way? Don't you see someone else suffering and have a moment of gladness that it isn't you even as you wish they didn't have to experience it either? Why should we pile guilt for gratitude on top of grieving?

Whether with or without sorrow, I love my life. A blogger friend's post reminded me of that this morning. Things don't have to be perfectly hunky-dory for me to have great appreciation the people in my life. Such an amazing panoply of lives have touched mine, molded mine, shaped me gently (and not-so-gently) into the person that I am. A person I'm still learning how to love and cherish, a person who is still evolving, still learning, still growing.

And I don't regret a step of the journey. Parts have seemed almost ridiculously difficult, though less so in retrospect. Once you've lived through hardship and emerged into the sunshine on the other side, it's not always easy to peer back into those darker regions and see very clearly. You're a bit blinded, you see, and that's probably how it should be.

I don't really know whether "time heals all wounds" is an accurate phrase. Time makes them easier to bear, easier to contextualize… harder to recall with clarity.

So on the other side of my tears for friends known and unknown, I find genuine gratitude, renewed energy for my endeavors, and hope for healing of the deep sorrows of the world.

Put more simply, I find love.

Three Boys I Love

Easier Said Than

2011-04-11T16:30:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I talk a good game. Shoot the breeze, convince the locals. Parlez the lingo, as it were.

Occasionally, I even "walk the talk". Yay, me!

But there's this strict, not-so-little, very unforgiving voice inside my head that always pipes up with the, "BUT..." Always. I try to assuage this voice, reminding it that I need to be gentle with myself, that criticism - the harsh, scathing, cruel kind - has no place hereabouts.

I've made good improvements to my life, I say. But there are many left to make, it counters. I know this and I'd like to be pleased with these five good choices for just this moment, I reply. Well, just for a moment then BUT don't forget about the other hundred or so things you should also be doing, it says, shaking its head a bit ruefully.

Like I told my six-year-old when he complained about kids teasing him, I should just ignore this voice. Or reform it. Maybe I could locate some inner monologue reformers, kind of like those people who "cure" people who've been brainwashed by locking them in a hotel room and screaming at them.

On second thought...

Maybe all that voice needs is love, a little acceptance, a LOT of patience. I learn new things, experience new viewpoints, every day. Some I take in and nurture, ponder and incorporate. Some I discard wholesale. That's how it is for everyone, I suppose, on one level of awareness or another. The key seems to be how consciously you make these choices versus just allowing things to happen to you (or in your vicinity). That's my model and mantra for 2011 - To live purposely and intentionally.

So here's to promoting the energy of moving from the "said" to the "done" and enjoying the [sometimes arduous] journey along the way!

It CAN Be Done

2011-04-07T19:44:00.001-04:00

My Little One Playing in the Trees

I'd like to take a moment here to pat my family on the back for a job well done. We've just returned from a whirlwind 4-day road trip from our Atlanta suburb to Charleston, South Carolina, during which we logged approximately eleven highway driving hours as well as a couple hours per day visiting local attractions. Not once - repeat: NOT ONE TIME - did we eat from a fast food restaurant of any variety! It took some planning, some putting down of the foot, and a little restraint, but I'd count it among the largest measures of success (besides arriving home with the same number of fingers and toes with which we departed) of any vacation we've ever taken.

Our victory was due in large part to a new cooler that I received at work as part of a safety reward giveaway, which means it was FREE - Yippee! We had a perfectly serviceable cooler and I nearly turned this new one down except for the fact that it has wheels and a thick, large handle. I couldn't have made a better move - it seems to keep its cool (heehee) far better than the old one. We filled two 2-gallon Ziploc bags with the ice from our icemaker, threw those in the bottom then strategically placed smaller ice packs amongst the various foods.

My cooler packing list was ambitious:
Shredded carrots and zucchini
Sliced cucumbers, bell peppers, celery and red onion
Boars' Head sliced turkey and chicken
Cheddar and mozzarella cheese sticks, sliced Colby-Jack, and cream cheese
Grapes, grape tomatoes, and pineapple
Homemade hummus & tzatziki
Peanut butter & grape jam
Freshly juiced Kiwi Pear Zinger & Honest Organics beverages
French Onion dip
Hempseed shaker

Additionally, we took two reusable shopping bags, one with a zippered top, with:
Two boxes of Triscuit Thin Crisps and a box of Wheatables
Toufayan Lavash bread & regular wheat bread
Bananas, pumpkin seeds, raisins, Craisins, chocolate-covered fig bites
Fruit-filled cereal bars, protein bars, bottled protein shakes
Chips Ahoy & gummy fruit snacks (hey, I didn't say it was all healthy - And I didn't buy those)

I should mention a couple things here regarding logistics. We took my Honda Fit for this trip since gas prices are ASS-tronomical right now. This was feasible for a few reasons: Our boys are only 6 and 2, so they don't take up much space. We were going for only a few days, not weeks or months so we only had two bags of clothing for the four of us. Despite the fact that my spouse packed TWELVE library books* for the 6-year-old, all told, the toys only took up about 2 square feet of the Fit's formidable cargo area and backseat. Finally, I'm an awesome packer. Yup, I claim this title by birthright. My dad taught us all how to pack so I have my hubby help bring everything to the curb then he knows to just stand back.

There were a few inevitable fails: forgotten camera battery charger, forgotten salt and mustard, forgotten advice to ALWAYS pack a hoodie, forgotten shoes (What? Flip Flops aren't appropriate everywhere?), forgotten paper towels and plates. Some we corrected during the trip; some we managed (oh the horror) without. At least I remembered to pack a bag of yarn and grab my hook case just before we ducked out the door.

About an hour and a half out of town, I spotted signage on I-20 East for the AH Stephens state historical park in Crawfordville, Taliaferro County, Georgia, and convinced my husband to make a detour. According to Wikipedia, Taliaferro (pronounced "Tolliver") is the least populous county east of the Mississippi River, a distinction that seemed borne out by the ghost town nature of the Crawfordville city center. Still, the park's pavilion was a lovely little spot in which to enjoy a picnic and some much-needed playtime for the boys. The 2-year-old kept pointing to the slide while we ate, saying, "Whee? Whee? Whee?" ('Cause that's the sound you make going down a slide, right?)

Now, I know there's one thing (at least) on my list that likely caused a raised eyebrow: lavash bread. It's a Middle-Eastern flatbread that I've come to adore because it's flatter and more pliable than pita bread - though not as thin as a flour tortilla, you could still use it to make rolled sandwich wraps. I usually fold each piece and tear it into halves or quarters. Squishy stuff has a tendency to ooze out the ends, though no worse than any other wrapper-style bread, which makes it a fine bread to use for deli meat and cheese sandwiches for children. Plus, it doesn't fill you up as much as traditional bread. My creation during our park picnic had hummus, tzatziki, zucchini, carrots, cukes and red onions on it so I had a bit of a mess to clean up but I was so happy with the breeze, the park and the meal that I couldn't have cared less.

*The boy did well - he got through almost four Magic Tree House books during the trip.

**Update: Dunno where "Mom" was hiding, but the boy actually read EIGHT of the MTH books and knocked out another two after we returned home - that only leaves two remaining and he still has a couple weeks until they're due back at the library. Sweet boy.

Little Pig, Little Pig

2011-03-31T23:19:00.000-04:00

LET ME IN!

FB replies: "Not by the hair on our skinny backsides!"

I don't know why I can't get into my account. Do they have a quota on these things now? You can only login x number of times per day? I've never reached a maximum before today!

My only aim in returning there this evening was to add some more items to a photo album - They'll be sold at an auction to benefit research for finding a cure for Cystic Fibrosis. I honestly don't know much about the disease and hope I never have to find out first hand. My heart goes out to the families who've had loved ones taken by it and I hope my little contribution can put them just a bit closer.

Here's one of my humble offerings, a small backpack - any takers?

"Obnoxious Anemone"

Getting There

2011-03-25T23:31:00.001-04:00

Arriving home from the grocery store just before 10:00 p.m. on a Friday night when I have to be at work on Saturday morning at 8:00 a.m. really just doesn't work for me. Especially when what's passed at my house prior to my departure looked something like this:

Big Brother is trying to assuage his discomfort...

So I had the wee one in tow as I perused the grand aisles of the Johns Creek Whole Foods Market. Which is usually fine - he's pretty amenable to grocery shopping. (The other one is most definitely NOT.) He did get a little hinky when I started loading him up with veggies; he tried to chew on the ginger root and he tossed my garlic cloves into a nearby bed of ice. Luckily, it was just ice and still mostly solid so the garlic was salvageable. Yay! He was amused by the plethora of carrots I amassed: purple, white AND standard orange, huzzah! And when I enrolled him in the Kids' Club, he quite happily sucked down the contents of the free juice box they offered him.

I always enter that store with a budget of about $30 in mind. (HAHAHAHAHA... Phew. THAT'S a good one!) Today I exited with a fairly standard deficit of $118. Hmm. Well, in my defense, the hulled hemp seed and chia seeds alone cost $20 (as if that argument has anything to do with anything). Does it help that those will last us for about a month or so? Maybe?

One upshot: I recently discovered Natural Foods Warehouse. They're a local, independent bunch who have some quite decent prices on natural and organic things you can buy in bulk. Think Aldi for the crunchy-granola set. If I can limit my Whole-Fooding to fresher foods, like veggies, and my packaged stuff to Natural-Fooding, maybe I can strike a balance around here somewhere. Both stores are further than my local Krogers and Publixes... Publices... Publix stores. In particular, their almond milk is only $1.88 per carton and I think the hemp milk was about $3. Not too shabby. Did some other price scouting tonight at Whole Foods and there were definitely some other staples that Natural Foods stocked for less.

So, getting there... Yes, I'm getting there. To the point. The point where I finally take these trips to the market more seriously, make them purposeful excursions instead of starry-eyed wanderings where I just throw whatever sparkly goodness catches my eye into my cart. Why? Because I still had to go through the drive-through on the way there. Yes, had to. I know that's relative - if I'd planned better or just focused a bit harder on what I was doing, I'd have been able to grab something to eat before I left the house. As it happened, I didn't. And tackling Whole Foods on an empty stomach likely would've netted me a $300 grocery bill - including a trip to one of the food bars. So perhaps that should've been my choice. But it wasn't. Chick-fil-A caught my attention as I got underway and I was a goner.

I almost started crying before I even got to the window.

Basically, I think like a natural foodie, a crunchy-granola, a tree-hugging, dirt-worshipping hippie... But I still act like an unconcious mass consumer far too often and the disconnect between what I believe and what I do is starting to really grind me down. Though I can talk a good game, I still have trouble walking the walk.

Getting There

But I'm getting there.

Really, I was over at The Persnickety Eater plotting a piece on tonight's dinner, but the Dashboard was experiencing technical difficulties. Not to be thwarted, my inner "A-ha!" reminded me of my "other" blog over here - the one not-really-intended-for-food - sitting ready for other rambling literary, erm, stuff.

Of course, Life tried to persuade me to do other things instead. "Go outside and check on your eldest son, who should be back from returning his friend's football up the street. Take your younger son along so he won't have a conniption when you walk out the door. Spend a few minutes trying to photograph them until the elder shows you a long, bloody scratch on the younger's shoulder. Clean up the little one and send him into a conniption afterall when, even with help from Daddy, you get the Band-Aid stuck in his hair. Finish getting dinner ready then feed your bowl to the youngest because you're thrilled that he's eating the veggies without complaint. Fix yourself another bowl and try to enjoy it even though it's half cold by the time you sit down to eat. Retrieve the Band-Aid, which is only barely hanging on after just ten minutes of wear."

Bound AND determined [what else?], I finally made it back here to the keyboard as the boys (including the biggest one, a.k.a. Hubby) ate their dinners in a relative state of calm. Yes, there were a few odd noises and mini guffaws, but overall an acceptable mealtime.

Now the littler one has a dark chocolate goatee and the bigger one is totally grossed out. Better intervene before there's another mess to clean up and more time is spent NOT writing!

Contemplative

2011-03-21T19:15:00.002-04:00

Sitting at my kitchen table, enjoying a bowl of veggies lightly sauteed in extra virgin coconut oil and pasture butter on a bed of quinoa and French lentils, plotting my return to the blogosphere...

Yeah, I might just be ready this time.

But what, exactly, do I need to ready myself for? (Besides people telling me not to end sentences in prepositions.)

I know what I fear and, honsetly, it's pretty ridiculous. What I fear - or at least the best I can distill it down to - is fame. Hmm. That's not quite it. More like notoriety. But not just that. It's the expectation of those things. The expectation that they would/could happen in the first place. The concern that people might expect things of me of which I might not be capable. The terror that people might be unsupportive, rude or downright mean about whatever I put out there - my writing, my recipes, my crocheted projects or other assorted arts & crafts that I happen to feel like creating.

Did I mention that my dinner is DELICIOUS? And that my fears are either wholly unwarranted or entirely overcome-able? Hmm. No? Well, it's all true.

So blogarrific I shall feel should anyone care to comment. But blogtemplative I have been, so all is well.

Cute Video: "1000 Times No"

2010-10-21T19:39:00.000-04:00

SHORT FILM 1000 TIMES NO from david rasura on Vimeo.

Artistic Endeavors

2010-07-27T05:41:00.002-04:00

As I try each day to be "practical", to go to my "job" (the one that earns me money for things like food, shelter, clothing and medical care), I wonder what I'm missing. What am I giving up in order to have those needs met? My answer more and more has become a creative outlet. Yes, yes, I do legitimately need a home and the rest of the basic necessities. And, yes, most often, money is the most straightforward way of acquiring those things. But at what cost? What feels like too high of a price to me? In short, the way I've been approaching life is too high of a price, missing out on much of the boys' childhoods, missing out on chances to create my art in words, photography, crocheted objects d'art or whatever other medium happens to strike my fancy.

To that end, I have been endeavoring to start where I am, thanks in part to Chris Gardner, thanks in larger part to my family and friends who have always listened to my ideas, my hopes, my dreams with open hearts and who haven't faulted me for not always reaching as far as I perhaps could have.

What Gives?

2010-05-12T22:17:00.002-04:00

Two words: I do.

No, this is not a "look how great I am because I have donated a bazillion dollars to XYZ charity."

No, this is not a "sing my praises because I gave selflessly and you should pat me on the back."

Really, this is more of a "I'm worn slap out and I feel like I'm drained of vital fluids - might you help me figure out how to refill my tank?"

There it is. I've done so much but managed to not do just as much. When does this checkbook get balanced because I seriously have a few more critical entries to make but funds are low and I'm on the edge.

The precipice is sneaking up on me, falling away a bit at a time, forcing me no alternative than to peer over the lip. I cannot see all the way to the bottom, what with all the fog and fire-breathing dragons.

I'm going to bed now and as I settle in for a (hopefully) pleasant snooze, I'll wonder if I could have made this entry more unusual or perhaps whether I might have worked in a few other random metaphors.

Quiet Memories

2009-12-08T10:30:00.002-05:00

I think that anyone who contemplates the intrinsic mysteriousness of life has in their metaphorical suitcase an incident or memory that is, for them, the quintessential moment of connection with something greater than "me". Maybe that memory isn't infallible, but I'd like to think that it is the use to which we put our memories that is important, not the scribe-like quality we might hope that memory could have. I don't think I can link to the post that elicited these thoughts (as it's on a friend's Facebook page) and in the interest of maintaining her privacy, I'm not going to share her name here. The core of her piece that moved me to words is a belief she holds that she is destined, as it were, for something larger than even the amazing accomplishments she's already achieved - something greater than her single self in which she will take part and thereby improve by giving that most precious and abundant resource: love.

I've worked hard on a number of occasions to give voice to a similar feeling I've had for as long as I can recall. Perhaps it's become embellished in my mind, but I consider that serendipitous - that the idea, feeling, compulsion, drive has a life of its own which keeps it growing toward manifestation. That's a good an explanation of any that Spirit / Unity / God works in our lives without our having to be consciously aware of the connective force going about its business.

When I give myself over to stillness and quiet the thoughts that race unceasingly through my overcrowded cranium, it is very easy to sense that there's a larger whole of which I am a part and which simultaneously is a sum greater than its constituent parts. When I allow that sense to fill me up, push out the extraneous bits, "defrag my hard drive", I feel peace. The same peace I had as a child, standing in a newly mown field adjacent to our school playground, gathering up the dead, dried grass to make a bird's nest. What I couldn't have known then but see clearly now is that I was learning about cycles of nature: the death of the grass gave in turn a home for the birds in which they could raise their young. Just a small part of a large cycle, but holding the nest in my hands, I could feel the remnant life of the grass, clearly see it connect with the life inside myself. I could imagine myself a cat creeping through the tall grass, stalking the bird making its nest. I could imagine myself the bird, doing birdy things, soaring through the air, and gathering worms for my cheeping babies. All of which made re-entering the school building at recess end an endeavor of re-entering my physical body, taking back on the heavier feeling of walking about in this corporeal form. I would have been about 9 or 10 years old at the time yet I can recall enough scraps to reconstruct a beautiful picture that holds meaning for me now, 25 years later.

I've never lost that ability to set myself loose. Indeed, I've endured a fair bit of good-natured ribbing for being in my "own little world". I don't mind, and I never will mind - it is when I'm in my own little world that I feel most complete and connected to all elements of creation.

Oh, Are You?

2009-12-01T14:30:00.002-05:00

"Oh, are you blogging again?"

This question, innocently asked by a dear, dear friend, has sparked yet another round of self-inquiry. For years I've felt like I was on the cusp of something. Something incredible, something wonderful, something life-changing. Then nothing happens.

At least, nothing happened with the fanfare I apparently expected. Ten years ago I was on the cusp of entering into a relationship with the man who would become my husband. That was something special. Nearly eight years ago that man became my hubby when we made vows to one another. That was something really wonderful. Five-and-a-half years ago, my eldest son Noodle was born. THAT was life-changing (to say the least). Two-and-a-half years ago I made a career change that has opened up a whole new world of employment opportunities for me. That was incredible. Just last Christmastime, my little munchkin arrived just in time to be a late but lovely gift. That, again, was truly life-changing.

Perhaps the reason I feel like "nothing" is what's happened is because I'm considering only the one part of the whole I consider "me" that I feel to be lagging behind: my writing. It's like a forgotten room in my brain that is occasionally cracked open so something else can be chucked inside before the door is slammed shut for an undisclosed duration. Sometimes I loll in the doorway, surveying the morsels and nuggets and hidden gems within. I smile sadly in their direction and close the door again.

What am I hiding in there? What am I hiding in my brain? Why am I hiding at all? What, in heavens name, could possibly cause me to be so afraid? I'm hiding behind very tangible walls: 50 lbs. of bodily "padding", pony-tailed hair, unremarkable eyeglasses, Mommy jeans. I am proud of my mind, humbled by both its capacity and its foibles. Why hide so deep inside this carefully maintained fortress?

I confess: I do not know the answers to my own questions. Perhaps it's time I break out.

Good Heavens - Great Scott!

2009-11-16T20:35:00.003-05:00

Even though it's been a terribly long time and I've intended to get over here more times than I care to admit, I was nearly thwarted yet again. No, it wasn't a kid this time. No, it wasn't any other responsibility. It was Google! I swear that I used to be able to go through Google to get to my Blogger account... Apparently I've lost that ability somewhere along the line.

So, there's the perfunctory opening babble out of the way. Perhaps I ought to just skip it next time (did I just hear a "YAY!!!"?). Anyone who's spent any time around me at all knows that I talk a lot. I also tell stories. I talk about ideas I have for stories I'd like to write. I talk about books and letters and articles that I'd love to share. Yet... yet... I haven't.

I have a beautiful friend who blogs every day. I have another lovely amie who blogs quite frequently. They don't let the excuses of motherhood or responsibility stop them and I applaud them loudly (insert audio file of clapping here). Why aren't I more like them? Makes me think of that song on The Jungle Book. I wanna be like them! They write thoughtful, relevant, cogent pieces. (Have I mentioned how tickled I am to be friends with such incredible ladies?)

So, rather than beat myself over the head (yet again), I'll resolve to take another little step forward. Who knows? This time it could build on all the others just enough to give me the quantum leap forward that I'm really looking for!

Truly, Deeply

2009-06-07T10:17:00.002-04:00

In Love - My husband fulfills me in ways that I didn't know I needed fulfilling.

In Mommy - For the first time, I love being a Mommy, even when there's spit-up on my bare shoulder.

In Awe - Of the hardships and challenges my family and friends endure and through which they find the strength to thrive.

Grace-full

2009-04-17T13:37:00.002-04:00

An ex-boyfriend was fond of saying that I start every story with, “I was sitting on the toilet the other day when…” He was exaggerating (though only slightly) but I have become aware of a tendency of mine to tell stories on my friends. Let that be a warning to all my once and future friends – I will likely tell your story to someone else at some point in time. Important details, like your name, may or may not enter into the picture.

Upon further self-examination, I found that my reason for retelling others’ stories falls generally into one or the other of two categories: I’m trying to understand the story better myself or I feel that the story has bearing on the listener’s situation. I am not always conscious that I have engaged in one of these retellings nor am I often concerned with placing a story into a category or context before it starts spewing forth. The stories arise of their own volition and I suddenly find myself sharing things that the stories’ owners may or may not be prepared to share. Apparently, my storytelling apparatus cares not whether it is engaged in impropriety, however, because try as I might to apply a modicum of control, stories belonging to others continue to flow from me to new ears. This has caused some strife (especially within my family) though not enough for me to completely subdue my impulses.

Lately my difficulty has been even more perplexing. I have all these stories gathered and I’m being drawn to share them with an even wider audience, in written form instead of passed along orally. Since I was quite young, I’ve always considered myself a writer whether I am actively writing or not. Now that this new passion is gripping me, I find the words difficult to wrangle into their proper place on the page. Why do I want to share these stories? Why am I having such difficulty? Am I not supposed to share? Is telling the truth just really hard? Or is it that I want to be true to the content of the experience while learning how not to always share all of the TRUTH?

I argued ardently and at length with an exasperated professor in my first Creative Writing class during my sophomore year in college over telling the TRUTH. Two of my characters shared the same first name and he said that detail made the story difficult to understand. Why didn’t I just change one of their names? My impassioned answer was, “They have to have the same name because that’s how it really happened!” I railed on for quite some (yawn) time and never did concede during the course of the class that he was right. The duplicate names made the story unnecessarily confusing and just because “it really happened that way” did not make it a good story.

After a discussion about Elizabeth Gilbert’s wonderful book Eat, Pray, Love, a friend suggested that a couple of us choose words for ourselves and for each other: one word that exemplified or encapsulated us. I chose “blue” for one friend and “capable” for another. My own word was more elusive. Finally I rested on “sunshine”. I often feel bright and cheerful. When I don’t, I can be scathing. Other sunshine-related descriptors come to mind: warmth, life-giving, bold, harsh, center of the solar system, part of a galaxy, tiny speck in the universe. (I wonder if my husband might say, “Celestial body,” ha ha.) Sunshine is a word that can express those qualities I am proudest of as well as those I recognize as areas ripe for improvement. My friend who suggested this exercise blessed me with two words for which I cannot thank her enough: “beautiful” and “grace”. I find it difficult to simply accept these gifts with an honest and whole-hearted thank you. My tendency would be to find reasons why I don’t embody those words. Instead, I would like to express my gratitude by not slipping into self deprecation. When I looked up “grace” at Dictionary.com, I found a long, multi-part definition. Two particular definitions jumped out at me:

grace –noun
1. elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action.
2. the influence or spirit of God operating in humans to regenerate or strengthen them.

Obviously, the first one is amazingly flattering. The second one feels very comfortable to me, like returning home from vacation to a clean house. The “influence… of God” is something I’ve been feeling keenly during the past two years, especially in a regenerative sense. It might be worth a brief mention that my concept of “God” doesn’t equal the modern Christian definition of the same word, but it’s the word I still feel most comfortable using.

So here, then, is the point of this ramble: I would like to call on this Grace to strengthen my resolve to finally get my work “out there,” in the hands of publishers, without all the attendant fears, worries, procrastination and foot-dragging I’ve been doing these many years. It’s a prayer of sorts, that I have the right words to set down in the right order at the right time and I’m jumping in the water fully clothed, asking only that I don’t drown.

Good-for-Your Soul Food

2009-04-07T20:05:00.005-04:00

This evening's dinner fare was inspired in part by my continued reading of The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan. It was cobbled together from a slightly unlikely assortment of ingredients: whole clove garlic, hearty wheat bread loaf, corn, leeks, kale, olive oil, sweet balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper.

The garlic roasted whole in the oven while I sauteed the corn kernels (sliced from the cob) in olive oil with the sliced and halved leeks. When all was nearing completion, I turned the heat low under the corn and leeks, added the roasted garlic, vinegar and kale then turned the mixture over until the kale was bright green and wilted but not mushy. I ate the rather tasty concoction along with the wheaty bread dipped in olive oil, salt and pepper.

Heavenly: A meal you prepare yourself in full knowledge of each ingredient and whose sum total is greater than that of its parts, food which nourishes your body as well as your mind. (Also, the addition of a good book with which to sup cannot be over estimated.) Happy dining!

Why WFWY*?

2009-04-06T14:40:00.001-04:00

The reasons are myriad.

I grew up in the southern, central part of Michigan, surrounded by crop fields of all sorts. Wait, that’s not entirely accurate. I spent my early childhood moving state to state across the United States and landed in Michigan for a greater period of time than anywhere else during my first ten years.

In retrospect, a great number of the places of which I have memories were more rural than urban. Living on the Chesapeake Bay in Virginia, we had a modest-sized garden, grape vines and goats. In western central Florida, we had direct access to the natural world – there was a canal bordering our backyard in which there were sometimes alligators. When we lived on a logging road in Washington, we could see Mt. Hood (Oregon) in the not-too-far-off distance. In Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, well, I don’t remember the landscape all that well because I was quite young, but I know it wasn’t “Big City”.

What does that have to do with eating whole foods? I think those experiences created for me a strong perception that it is possible to live off of the land. I admit that I don’t have the knowledge required to do so. (How many of us – there are some – do?) The time has come when I feel a strong desire to acquire more of that sort of knowledge. For me, knowing where my food comes from – and exactly WHAT my food is – has become of paramount importance to me. I am tired of eating just any cheap, readily available food. Furthermore, I am convinced that no one should WANT to eat “as cheaply as possible” and I’d like to bring as many of you along on my journey as I can.

Anyone game?

(*WFWY: Whole Foods for a Whole Year)

Whole Foods for a Whole Year aka WFWY

2009-04-01T07:34:00.007-04:00

Before I begin documenting my progress toward a more whole foods-based diet, I thought a little explanation and planning were in order. Being (somewhat) realistic about the constraints on my time, I plan to post on a weekly basis for now. Those of you who peruse this blog's archives prior to today will find that this is actually a pretty ambitious goal for me. : )

I plan on using a loose template so all the posts will have a familiar structure - and so that I can keep my wits about me instead of flying all around the map!

A little more about my impetus: I've incorporated a number of natural foods into my diet over the course of my adult years. As a child and (broke) college student, I ate a rather deplorable diet of soda pop, hot dogs, snack foods and fast food. It was while I was in college that I first began to challenge my long held (though largely unconcious) beliefs about food. Now I'm a married mother-of-two who's always striving for a healthful alternative to mainstream gustatory fare... Though often enough falling short of the target.

As they say, when you put intention toward anything, it begins to take on new life. So here's to the life of my life. After all, what is food if not your link to continued existence?

Whole Foods for a Whole Year

2009-03-31T20:30:00.003-04:00

Wooo - It's a big challenge. I'm throwing down the gauntlet for myself after starting to read Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma. For the past several years I have strived, to a greater or lesser extent, to eat more whole foods than the average American. I avoid fast food much of the time as well as the middle of the supermarket. My commitment, however, has wavered on many occasions.

Sooo - what will it take for me to improve my eating habits and those of my family? I will acknowledge at the outset that I am fortunate not to have one particular obstacle that many people have: my hubby will (I'm sure) gladly follow me down this path. (Thanks, babe!)

Come join me - I'll be making the effort to blog my progress with the intent of reminding myself of what I've accomplished. What comes first? Looking at where I am right now, defining my starting point, and examining where I think I'd like to see myself in a year's time.

Let the games begin!

The Engineer

2009-02-08T01:18:00.004-05:00

Okay, so I'm beginning to wonder if the Noodle Dude is going to be an engineer. He loves order and creating new things using unusual combinations of toys. Here's one such creation:

Now he's even starting to do it with words, too. This evening, we were sitting in the office and he was playing with letter magnets. His set isn't that large so that after he spelled "CAT" and "MAT", he didn't have any more A's left. What he wanted to spell was "A cat on a mat." Here was his (phonetic) solution:

Brilliant little booger!

Where's My Camera?

2009-02-03T17:33:00.005-05:00

How often have you wanted your camera when it was inaccessible?

How often have those moments occurred when you were on the toilet?

No, this isn't going to be a sophmoric essay about massive poo. No, not at all. What captured my desire to have a camera available was a small train that came zooming under the door as I sat "enthroned". It was followed by a small hand I knew to be attached to the larger of the two small people in my home. The moment provided the quintessential image of parenthood - constant, never-ending, unceasing attention. To everything. Coupled with an utter lack of privacy.

Anyway, the scene made me giggle, always a welcome event, and I regretted the lack of photographic equipment.

And, yeah, it's been a while - I'm not interested in dwelling on the matter.

Once and Future Queen

2008-07-07T21:41:00.005-04:00

Queen Bitch, that is.

I have been losing whatever patience I had with the Noodle Dude lately. Seems he's lost (or stifled) the ability to L.I.S.T.E.N. It doesn't much matter what I am saying, he apparently hears, "Wah, wha, wah, wha, wha" like the Peanuts adults.

Grrrr!

So, enter my past and present BFF: Bach Flower Essences Rescue Remedy!

These little bottles contain liquid calm - it is so effective that when I was smack in the throes of PPD after Noah's birth (gawd, that was an AWFUL time) and I took this stuff, I almost invariably passed out. Knowing it's effect, I was careful to take it when someone else was there to mop up the spit up and change the shitty-bum diapers.

Now it's more a matter of threshhold resetting. When my tolerence for the life of a 4-year-old is on a razor thin edge, I place a couple drops under my tongue or pop in a pastille and the borderline recedes to a safe distance. Flying blocks and banging magnets, scooters in the living room and random too loud noises are much less stree-inducing.

Funny warning comes with the pastilles - appears they have a slightly laxative effect. Good thing it usually only takes ONE to do the job! (Of keeping me calm, not getting things moving.)

As The Little Globe Spins

2008-07-05T23:54:00.004-04:00

I'm feeling a little sleepy even though I didn't get up terribly early AND I took a nap this afternoon. This holiday weekend provided me with a well-timed break. I got to play in a lake all day on Friday with a good friend, just hang around and relax today, and I still have tomorrow to do "responsible" things, like laundry and bill paying.

There's one more thing I've been asked to do tomorrow as well: create a memorial DVD for a close friend who lost her mother on Thursday. Perhaps that's part of why I feel drained. Let me explain - I am honored to help my friend remember her mother. At the same time, I have to put up a wall to keep my own heart from breaking, protect myself from the inevitable worry about my own mother's mortality. I still have two living grandparents, so it's almost inconceivable to me that either of my parents could possibly pass.

Juxtaposed with those largely ignored feelings, I have been feeling the first little twinges of new life in my belly. My sister, currently pregnant with her first child, described it feeling to her like an "angel running in place". Probably my favorite description ever.

So the little globe spins and the cycle continues...

1779/1476

2008-07-04T23:50:00.002-04:00

Stumped? Yeah, well, that's the number of emails in my inbox SLASH the number that are unread.

Scratch that. That's what it displayed this morning before I finally went through the mess and cut it down to less than 50. How the hell did it get so freakin' bad?!?! I'm essentially lazy. Wait, I've been here before. Okay, so perhaps I'm not lazy exactly, but I am a procrastinator. And who has time to adjust the settings on their email to get rid of more SPAM? Or delete the emails you've read and don't need to save (do we really need to save any emails ever)? Or unsubscribe from fifty-thousand sites that you don't even remember having given your email address to in the first place?

I dunno. Guess now that it's empty, it'll be easier to keep clean. Right? Hah! And I'll get plenty of sleep after the baby's born, too!

This Is What Happens, Part 2

2008-07-03T22:08:00.003-04:00

This one was supposed to go with the first part, but Blogger ate the video.
Good ol' YouTube came to the rescue!

This Is What Happens...

2008-07-03T18:31:00.002-04:00

... when you give a 4-year-old a camera.

... when he takes pictures of Mommy.

... when he gets a pretty good shot.

(Good thing it's a digital - he took THIRTY altogether.)

... when you find a gargantuan creepie crawly in your bathroom.

(He's waiting for transport outside. What? You didn't think I was going to take him out myself?!? He really was scary.)

... when you try to take a picture of your own butt because you can't believe it's growing as fast as it is.

(It's never a great thing that your arse is taking on larger proportions, even when you are pregnant.)

Sometimes I Wonder

2008-07-02T22:24:00.004-04:00

I haven't left myself much time for a post today. I've started drafting two other posts, but neither is ready yet.

So I'll just go with what stumped me today. This is what was open in a browser window when I got home from work today:

So, the screen shot smaller than I thought it'd be and I don't feel like making it bigger. It's a video explaining why the moon landing is a hoax. I know the 4-yr.-old wasn't watching it. I doubt the cat was. Which leaves only one suspect.

What did we do before YouTube?!?

Oh, to be Pioneer Woman…

2008-07-01T10:35:00.001-04:00

I had a post mostly ready yesterday then found myself too stretched for time. (Yeah, yeah, so I used my blogging time to post photos of my little dude on Facebook for friends and family.) Maybe I’ll blame it on Kyddryn’s lovely chicken! (Because, you know, I couldn’t have used her wireless internet to post last night or anything and did I really need that nap I took?)

On to today’s muse – to inimitable The Pioneer Woman. I fully admit that I have only read a very modest portion of her lovely site yet find myself in awe, jealous and ultimately inspired. (Over TEN THOUSAND comments on one post?!? One-zero-comma-zero-zero-zero?!? I know she was giving away a $500 gift card but DANG!) Her photography alone has a special sort of magic that most can only covet. Her storytelling and language is so free and honest and accessible. You literally forget that you’re reading words printed on a cold, unforgiving computer screen. Please, please, if you have not, check her out. (Though I’m almost sure you have, seeing as I’m a bit late in jumping on the bandwagon. Or maybe hers is a chuck wagon, eh?)

I might just have found a new girl-crush…

Insatiable

2008-06-29T05:51:00.005-04:00

As of late, I've been experiencing an unsatiable lust for blogging - from reading and writing to commenting and even discussing with blogger friends. Want proof? It's not even 6:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning, when I usually linger in bed until at least 8:00 or 9:00!

I've recently read posts that not only drew commentary from me, but have stayed with me, haunting me with fears, reminding me of pains I'd forgotten, informed me of trials I've yet to experience. Some women's writing has stuck me as so bold and audacious that I could only wish to express myself as they do - stark and clear and no room for weenies OR misinterpretation.

And, inevitably, I begin to feel a bit of blog envy when I see sites with comments consistently in the double or triple digits. I wish them well, wonder how they did it, realize there's a VERY good reason why their sites have made it to the top of the barrel.

For so long (the years are getting hard to count exactly, but more than a decade's worth have expired) I have wanted to earn my "bread and butter" as a writer. For all that time I've managed to forestall my own success by doing one simple thing: NOT writing. My husband has chided me gently (and sometimes stringently), my parents have nudged and supported me, and my dear, dear friends have always encouraged me.

So here I am, feeling great that I've written more posts in the past six days than in the past six weeks, wondering who my audience is (partly because I've forgotten the password to check my statistics), and hoping that I can find the magical key to keep myself relevant in this ever expanding and contracting blogiverse.

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P.S. Thank the Heavens for Autosave - I thought at one point when I was adding the links that I'd locked the browser up and was going to lose this post. I recalled that Autosave was one the job, took a deep breath, and patiently waited to see whether the page I was trying to load was just taking longer than the expected 2.5 seconds. (So impatient am I before sunrise.) It took just under thirty mind-exploding seconds and finally "DONE" appeared. Phew!

Pregger Dreams

2008-06-28T08:44:00.005-04:00

My dreams have always been fairly vivid. I recall a few recurring dreams from childhood that seem to gain new layers of meaning with each year that passes. It's also fairly well established that the fabric of women's dreaming changes while they are pregnant (a quick Google of preganancy dreams yielded over four million forty thousand hits).

So it's not surprising, especially given my experience with the Noodle Dude, that I would have a dream about the new baby not wanting to nurse. Well, it was more than just that, actually. I basically "awoke" (within my dream) to find that my child had been born, I had no recollection of the event, and somehow had NOT needed another C-section (as I had with Noodle, for breech positioning). That's startling enough, but then to be handed my infant, who was at least a few weeks old if not older and who began to suckle hungrily, but became almost immediately uninterested was very unnerving.

As a really weird component, the child was distinctly (and beautifully) mulatto. Though I've never dated anyone other than Caucasian men (for no particular reason) and am married to a Caucasian man, I've always thought that mulatto babies were the most beautiful I've ever seen and wanted one that shared my genes. Especially a boy. I couldn't determine in my dream whether my baby was a boy or a girl (I didn't defrock them), but I think it was a girl.

Since it was the first pregnancy dream this go 'round of which I have more than a vague recollection, I figured I might as well document it. The baby won't be mulatto (unless aliens have swapped out the DNA) and we don't know the baby's sex yet. I do very much hope that I am not "absent" from the delivery and I have sincere hopes that breast feeding will proceed better this time than it did last time!

Perhaps I will enlist Noodles' buddies to assist with keeping the unpleasant dreams at bay - how could the boogeyman fail to be frightened away by these two:

He got SHOT!

2008-06-27T19:33:00.004-04:00

The Noodle Dude had his four-year-old check-up yesterday and everything went fine. Of course, it’s a bit embarrassing to admit that your child eats NO fruits or veggies beyond apples (sometimes), grapes (sometimes), and hummus (usually, when he’s not horking it up on me). Unless they’re hidden and I don’t always have that much energy. It’s vitamins for us for the time being.

He weighs 41.5 lbs. and stands 41.25 inches tall. I found the similarity in the numbers amusing, but couldn’t come up with anything humorous to relate it to. It’s not the same as when one has the same height and circumference. (The mental image this always gives me is that of Violet Beauregard once she's stolen Wonka's gum.) That’s my humor devolving to its 8-year-old boy state.

So he did well enough with the exam, I suppose. I mean, the doctor hardly spends any time doing anything except throwing questions out to you and clicking through computer screens. I think maybe I’ll save that rant for another day.

When the exam portion was over, he had to get some immunizations. I don’t want to go into the whole “to immunize or not to immunize” argument – I’ll feel morbidly wretched and heartbroken if it’s ever proven that he has gotten autism or any other malady from the shots. Anyway, we told him that he was going to get some shots and I explained to him briefly what shots are because the look on his face (perfectly placid) told me he didn’t have the slightest clue what that word meant. He still seemed unfazed.

Then I told him the nurse would put a Band-Aid over the place where he got the shot.

That elicited a look of sheer terror and even engendered a few tears. Band-Aids. Just plain old Band-Aids and my kid’s horrified, scheming to shoot out of the examination room as soon as the nurse returns.

Well, needless to say, he quickly changed his tune after the shots started. I hate having to hold my baby down on a table while the nurse holds his legs and jams those things in. I am at a loss of what else to do just now, though. I remember getting shots at that age and not be horrified – what did they do differently back then? It hurt me, but it wasn’t awful and nobody held me down. Even when I was given allergy testing at the age of 6 and they gave me 19 shots in my right arm and 25 in the left. (Yes, I distinctly recall that adventure.) Again, it hurt, but I just sat on the nurse’s lap and tried not to cry. While mangling her poor thumb.

Family trauma (hubby was there, too) and a trip to the reward treasure chest later, Noah was actually enjoying the Band-Aids. Some turn around master, that kid. He even called them “Wicked Cool"!

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As an aside, I spoke with some other parents who suggested that I hold Noah on my lap the next time he needs shots so that he can see it coming and not feel so forced. Boy, there are a lot of things to learn about parenting - and there's not even a TRIAL run!

Walk A Mile

2008-06-26T18:40:00.004-04:00

As understanding and accommodating as I generally attempt to be, I believe I have been, shall we say, exposed to an individual for whose behavior I cannot find any logical explanation. This person has entered the sphere of a close friend who has no real choice but to accept that the person exists and will continue to exist within their sphere for the foreseeable future.

I'm having a rather hard time keeping tongue in check on this subject - I try not to make snap judgments of people, especially those whom I have not had the "pleasure" of meeting. I don't make a habit of slandering folk nor do I generally entertain those who do. While I truly hope that I do not ever get the "pleasure" of meeting my friend's acquaintance, I will continue to hope that some ray of sunshine falls on this seemingly pitiful soul's damnable ground so that it might illuminate some other path to a more pleasant future.

Sounds like a lot of kerfuffle and wordplay with a side serving of feel-good pseudo-pysch...

Here's what's really boggling my brain: How does a parent come to a point where they feel such vitriol and spite toward their one-time partner in child creation that they will put energy into recreating that incredible negativity within their own lovely offspring? Not to mention the corrosive nature of this type of energy has to the target of the vehemence or within the person themselves.

I confess, it's currently beyond my powers of walking a mile in another's shoes to remove myself so far that I could imagine the situation that would create the special sort of hatred that would bring me to that point. It just wouldn't happen. I would rather walk away and disappear from my dear, sweet hubby's life forever than create the hellish sort of situation this other person has chosen.

That leaves me with only one option: Choose to send out the love that the person so obviously needs and allow the Universe to guide it there if there's ever the tiniest foothold in which for it to grow.

Feeling a Bit Preggers

2008-06-24T22:47:00.003-04:00

The worst part is the caffeine headache. I don’t make a habit of overly indulging in this particular addictive substance (or any other, for that matter) regardless of whether I’m pregnant or not. However, I have made a genuine effort to resist having more than one cup of English breakfast tea in any given day since I determined there was a small person on the way. (It’s about the only thing I’ve resisted, given my lack of morning sickness!)

I have a favorite brand that I cling to doggedly but rarely take any to work with me because I also like to have organic cane sugar and organic fat free milk with it, neither of which I can get in the decidedly-Southern cafeteria in the factory where I work. The tea bags are easily transported but the rest is sometimes always too much of a hassle to bring along. Heck, if I’m going to tote all of that in, I might as well bring along my water kettle, too! (An aside: If you’ve ever chewed gum in your life, you’ve likely chewed one of the products our factory manufactures.)

Ooo! Now I want a monkeh!

Back to the point – I am left with few options for alleviating an already-in-progress, head-thumping, neck-ache-causing “haddock”. They have some “tea” in the café labeled “English Breakfast” that is more like scented dirt masquerading as a brew-able beverage, which has been my last resort on a few miserable days. More often I turn to pop – that’s a carbonated, high-fructose corn syrupy, heavily-marketed swill for those of you unfamiliar with the colloquialism. It’s not like they stock Jones, Steaz, or Blue Sky – just run-of-the-mill Co-coller and Perpsi. (Not that I didn’t drink GALLONS of that stuff when I was younger, but then again, back then I thought that canned French-style green beans were the only way to go.)

By some marvel of the printed typed word, my impending doom-style aching has receded into a don’t-forget-I’m-here, significantly dulled annoyance. This is good, because I am still a ways away from my kettle. Though not as far, chronologically speaking, as I was when I began composing this post. Miraculous, the power of creation. It manifests in so many unforeseen ways.

I hereby attest to the following: No soda or tea-like comestibles were consumed during the writing of this text… Though a nearby bag of chips is somewhat lighter than it was earlier today. Go figure.

Oh! And I've revived my other blog... Just to entice you to wander over, I give you Cheese Stonehenge. Link city, I know - Enjoy clicking about!

Sleeplessness and Peep

2008-06-22T10:46:00.004-04:00

So I dreamed about blogging all night long, waking more than once with title or subject in mind, the post composing itself in my half-consciousness. Darn the Blog Bug! That's my cue that something is bubbling up which needs release. If I don't heed the call now, it will begin to whine then it will start growling. Howling will follow shortly thereafter and finally... well, you've seen Alien, right? The parallel is apropos because a part of me expires each time I ignore or otherwise disregard the creative impulse. Now, woe is me that I didn't at least jot down some of the thoughts I had in those early, dark morning hours!

On the Noodle Dude front, one of his (and our) favorite shows is a Discovery Kids Channel program called PEEP and the Big Wide World. The characters learn basic priciples of science in a very practical way. The music is great, the show is slow-paced and straightforward, no crazy barrage to the system. You can even watch daily episodes online, commercial-free.

I think Quack is our favorite (he's the one with the hat):

Blogosphere Tripping

2008-06-22T00:08:00.004-04:00

Been spendin' a bit too much time in the blogosphere... So I went from here to here and finally ended up here. And wished with all my heart for an endlessly flushing commode. Gotta love scatological humor. Ok, well, maybe I AM an eight-year-old boy trapped in a thirty-three-year old pregnant woman's body. Deal.

Nightwish - "The Islander"

2008-06-21T22:38:00.003-04:00

This is a recent - and lovely - video from a band I found a couple years ago through their song "Nemo". The two songs could hardly be more different, but both are compelling. I couldn't remember the band's name when I started hunting for them, only that they were a Nordic goth-metal band with a female lead singer. Not hard task there, right. Pshaw!

All I can say is, "Thank goodness for Google and dogged tenacity!"

Also, please check out Sigur Ros, an Icelandic band I found over at Zoe. Another set of incredibly talented musicians and video-sticians... What the heck do you call people who create videos?!?!

Wasteland

2008-06-19T19:22:00.005-04:00

My husband is right. Our house is a mess. Not a gross mess, just a very... er, distracting mess. Want proof? Okay... (Not for the faint of heart or neat freaks - Dad, that's you, just in case you ever happen to read this post.)

And the perpetrator of this portion of the mess (surrounded by his domain):

Yeah, it's hard to be upset, just as it's hard to get up off the couch and do anything about the mess when one is in the first trimester of pregnancy. (Good heavens, what's the THIRD going to be like?!?!) I have a good friend, the one who reminded me it had been a while since my last post, who has three little ones. That means she's been through three third trimesters. Try even SAYING that three times fast! Oy!

So, to say that I'm living in a bit of a wasteland at the moment is the unfortunate truth. My dear, sweet husband has tried to keep the nomadic tribes of wandering toys and mountainous piles of laundry confined to relatively small areas, but I think his patience with me is wearing (read: has worn) a bit thin. From whence do I beg, steal or borrow the energy after a full day of work to come home and clean? My perennial monkey-on-the-back question. I don't have the answer yet, but on my way home from work this afternoon, half falling asleep at the wheel, I thought - as I often have - it doesn't have to be like this.

Any suggestions?!?!

Mmmm... Hummus

2008-05-14T20:34:00.003-04:00

So, I had a choice tonight - do laundry, clean up the living room or make hummus.

I chose... hummus!

Here's the process in pictures:

First, gather the ingredients. I make a lean, mean hummus with no frills and no tahini. Don't like the flavor, don't put it in my hummus. I start with a good quality Extra Virgin Olive Oil. Er, uh, Houston, we have a problem.

Oh, whew.

Then some lemon juice. I'm not as picky in that respect.

Add some garlic. Hmmm... This needs to go on my next shopping list, too.

The "equipment".

Garbanzo beans. I had soaked these a few days ago and then I cooked them this evening.

Chunk it all in the food processor together.

And... whir... Check out the obstinate bean.

Messy goodness. We're almost there!

Voila! The finished product.

The best part? Even the pickiest kid in the world loves it!

Some Fascinating Math

2008-04-30T11:48:00.002-04:00

While it was on my mind, I wanted to get something noted down. I began to think about some of the negative connotation words I use to describe myself in my thoughts (and occasionally out loud, too). The two worst offenders are lazy and mediocre. Procrastinator is another.

I guess “lazy” and “procrastinator” go hand in hand in terms of what I use them to describe. I tend to apply the “lazy” label to any time I do something other than housework or cooking when I’m at home. I can admit to being less than perfect in the housekeeping category, but I am often doing something that is enriching to my life or Noah’s life in some way other than those two narrow chores. I know they’re necessary, but so is living life.

So here’s some math I worked out…

I work an 8-hour/day, 40-hour/week full-time job – plus an extra 1 hr. 20 min. per day for to/from work drive and lunch. That means that 46 hours of my week are spent related to work.

Since I only get about 6.5 hrs. sleep on any given weekday, that’s another 32.5 hours well-spent. 46 + 32.5 = 78.5 of 168; that leaves 89.5 hours. Oh, I forgot sleeping on the weekend – 16 hours over two days – brings the balance down to 73.5. An hour of nap / rest time each afternoon, weekends included, 7 hours. Remaining hours: 66.5.

Oh, I forgot to factor in that in the morning on weekdays, it takes me about 45 minutes to get ready for work – 3.75 hrs. 62.75 hours remaining.

So – in any given week, 37.35% of my time (62.75 hours out of 168 total) – is all that's available for cooking, cleaning, caring for Noodle, caring for myself above and beyond the “necessities”, running errands (including grocery shopping), financial matters, familial and friendship development, homeowner’s obligations, and spiritual growth.

Hmm… I’m really not feeling like “lazy” applies anymore. What do you think?

I, Meme, Mine...

2008-04-26T18:55:00.003-04:00

OK - I haven't memed much, but I couldn't even finish reading my bud's post before I had to hijack it for my own. Sue me. Also, I must be congratulated for posting twice in a day. Well, I don't have to have congrats... I guess.

Who was your FIRST Homecoming date?
When I was a senior I took a guy who was younger than me (a Sophomore, heaven forfend) to a homecoming dance - basketball - because I was a candidate... because I made my friends on the team nominate me. I was having a rotten "me, me, me" year.

What was your FIRST alcoholic drink?
I'm sure it was beer. I'm sure I was no more than 3. I'm sure I have had maybe 3 since. Foul stuff.

What was your FIRST job?
Eckerd Drugs. Cashier. Booooooring. Retail is not my forte.

What was your FIRST car?
1984 silver-blue Pontiac Firebird with T-tops and flip-up lights. Soooo redneck, soooo freakin' cool.

Who was the FIRST person to text you today?
Dunno - phone battery's dead. Probably no one.

Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning?
My hubby.

Who was your FIRST grade teacher?
Mrs. Johnson. Matthews Elementary, Virginia.

Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane?
I think it was probably from Georgia to Virginia - I think. From one parent to the other for a summer visit. Solo.

Who was your FIRST best friend and are you still friends with them?
Lisa Cutch. Or Kutch. She was missing her two front teeth for the year-and-a-half we were friends. I'd have no idea how to find her now. I wonder if she remembers me.

Who was your FIRST kiss?
Dav - Short for Davenport. Oh... my... goddess. Set the Gold Standard, for sure.

Where was your FIRST sleep over?
Maybe at my friend Shelly's house. She lived "catty-corner" across the street from my grandparents' house. My grama's term - I have no idea how to spell it.

Who was the FIRST person you talked to today?
My hubby. See the previous post today for more on that interaction.

Whose wedding were you in FIRST?
I think it was a friend I went to high school with, after we had both graduated from college.

What was the FIRST thing you did this morning?
Stretched, read a few pages of a book, got out of bed, washed my face... Ahhh, Saturdays.

What was the FIRST concert you ever went to?
Alabama. Not in Alabama. In Michigan.

FIRST tattoo and/or piercing?
Pierced my ears when I was 9, 10 and 11 (for a total of 5 holes). First tat was a sunshine on the inside of my right ankle.

FIRST foreign country you went to?
Canada. When I was fifteen.

FIRST movie you remember seeing in the theater?
Good heavens... "Goonies"?

When was your FIRST detention?
I never had one. (Yes, this echoes my friend's answer - it applies.)

What was the FIRST state you lived in?
Pennsylvania.

Have you ever called a person useless?
Perhaps. One of my favorite quotes from the Firefly episode "Shindig" - "Forgive my rudeness; I cannot abide useless people."

What object in your room is really important to you?
My notebooks, probably. They contain so many thoughts and notes and pontifications; I could never replace them.

Are you good at hiding your feelings?
Nah. They show on my face and in my posture.

Would you kiss an ugly person for $1,000?
This is a patently odd question. I think I'll have to pass.

What kind of sense of humor do you have?
Patently odd. But not in the same way as the previous question was patently odd.

Do you usually tell people when they hurt your feelings?
Not necessarily.

Do your initials spell out a word?
Mr. R

When is the last time you talked to an ex?
It must've been in like 2000. We had lunch - it was all on the up-and-up.

How often do you give high fives?
Every day - I have a three-year-old. He digs it.

What does the 10th text in your inbox say?
I can't look - My cell phone battery is dead... As usual.

Is your shirt new?
Yup. Mutts. Hot pink. From the Evil Empire. Sue me.

Where is the last place you went to go eat?
IHOP. This morning.

Have you bought any clothing items in the past week?
A couple shirts. They're cute, too. (My husband thinks they're sexy - can't beat that.)

Do you live near your ex boyfriend/girlfriend?
I think one of them is nearby (within 30 miles or so). One is in New York and another is in the D.C. area. No idea about any of the others.

If you had to sleep with a teacher from high school, who would it be?
Mr. Ahr. He was from elementary school. And I'm making the assumption that he would still look like he did then, since it's a ridiculous hypothetical anyway.

Has your house ever been TPd?
Nope.

Do you sing in the shower?
I would except for the fact that I usually shower while everyone else in the house is asleep.

Where is the last place you went shopping?
Publix - chips and dip.

Do you have the same name as one of your relatives?
Huh? The same last name. Oh, first name? Nope.

What kind of car does your sibling drive?
One of them has a sweet little Audi A6, one has a Ford Freestyle, one has a Nissan Sentra.

What kind of car do you drive?
A 1993 Honda Accord. My son calls it my "sweet little dirty red car".

Are you looking for a boyfriend/girlfriend?
You offering? (Hee hee. No, I'm happy as is.)

How old will you be in 8 months?
Thirty-four.

Do you prefer a call or a text?
Depends on the situation.

Did you enjoy your last kiss?
Mmmm-hmmm.

Have you ever been on television?
Yup. On the three news networks, during a "feel-good" segment featuring a class trip to a pizza joint. I was in, like, fifth grade.

How many cities/towns have you lived in?
Eeek! How could I count? My parents were Army first and afterward roving maniacs.

Do your parents drink coffee every morning?
I'm pretty sure they do because they always dig out our coffee maker when they visit.

Have you ever donated blood?
I don't think so - I keep getting tatoos around the time an opportunity arises. That's an automatic "thanks, but no thanks."

One song that's meaningful to you?
32 Flavors by Ani Difranco from the album Not A Pretty Girl

Impromptu Saturdays

2008-04-26T15:37:00.004-04:00

Well I know it wasn't you who held me down

Heaven knows it wasn't you who set me free

So often times it happens that we live our lives in chains

And we never even know we have the key

from The Eagles "Already Gone"

We've had a remarkably wonderful day (see? here I am remarking about it!) so far and it started off with me going to pick Hubby up at the car repair place... only I went to the wrong place! About 15 or 20 miles in the opposite direction. Oh well.

Then we all (Hubby, Noodle and I) went to get breakfast at IHOP (mmm... buttermilk pancakes...). On our way back to the house, we decided to go to the lake. More precisely, to the dam. We walked down by the water then started down one of the trails. Forty-five minutes and two pee-on-a-tree breaks (the boys, not me) later, we turned back only because Noodle and I had poor walking shoes on and we were all getting thirsty.

I just love the spur-of-the-moment nature of our Saturdays together. Sure, we plan sometimes. Most often, however, we wake up and start our day with little thought for where it might take us. I lament not having the camera with us to at least have one measely shot to post, but we'll be back there soon enough. I'm sure of it!

Now, it occurs to me that I might ought to make a comment as to why the quote above really does apply to this post. No, really - hear me out. Had I allowed myself to get all frazzled or ticked off, in all likelihood I would have attracted more unpleasant events into the day. But I didn't. I kind of said a mental "oops!" and drove to the right place. I knew Hubby had a book to read so he couldn't have been too put-out. And besides, he just said, "Come get me at the car place." He didn't specify which car place and I made an assumtion. Heck, it was early (for a Saturday) and my brain was barely functioning when he kissed me goodbye. It was all good, though, no worries. I like no worries, leaves more energy for doing fun things like hiking by the dam!

Wine & Hummus... A Vacation Story

2008-04-20T19:41:00.003-04:00

I was consuming those particular comestibles when I hauled my arse of the chair at my kitchen table in order to hike up the stairs and plop in the chair in front of the computer. I also spent a good deal of time on vacation enjoying the very same things.

I also mention them because it was wine in particular that must, must have been responsible for making one particular incident involving hummus on the day we arrived at our cabin tolerable... well, funny even. Anyone who knows the Noodle Dude is aware of his persnickety eating habits. In a truly peculiar turn of character, however, he actually loves hummus. So it was that we were enjoying the deck in front of our cabin, ingesting the aforementioned goodies when Noodle attempted a rather larger than manageable bite of the dip and, well, gagged himself and hurled all over me. It wasn't too bad - at least he missed my face. My dear sweet hubby and I couldn't help but dissolve in giggles. Cheap wine at its best, soothing the harsh events of life with overly sweet goodness.

The best part? Noodle went back to eating hummus later that evening! I thought I was done for sure on that score...

I'll be back soon with more vacation escapades, but first I have to locate drivers for my durn Handycam video camera. I forgot to take my blasted still camera with us (how? no idea...) so we were limited. It had some really interesting ramifications, though. You'll see!

(Hey Kit - I was one month to the day!! Ha-haa!)

Random recommendation: Cake's song "Jolene" from the album Motorcade of Generosity (1994)
The quality of this video isn't the best, but beggars, well, you know...

Oooh Girl

2008-03-20T18:09:00.002-04:00

So, here I was, all ready to write a nice, scathing, ranty post after a fairly long hiatus. So, I log into my Google account so that I can get into my Blogger account and they've changed the layout. So, up pops a little menu with different offerings like CNN.com's latest news and what's been recently viewed on YouTube. At first I was irritated. Then I noticed the title of one of the YouTube videos...tee hee

"Ooh Girl: An Honest R&B Song"

There went my rant... right out the window...

After All

2008-03-16T11:31:00.002-04:00

After all the time I spent getting an idea, going to my craft room to dig out my computer (because my husband is on the laptop downstairs and the iMac is turned off plus it handles this site in a funny way), putting away the crafting supplies that were covering the computer desk (which is in reality a drafting table, but the only thing I had on hand to serve the purpose), shooing Noodle out of the craft room (where he was trying everything possible to hold my attention), cleaning up Kitty poo (always seems to appear in the craft room when I'm not looking), going downstairs to get some asthma medicine to clear up the breathing problem that developed while I was cleaning, getting waylaid by my husband who insisted I call my family to find out if we're going to have visitors today (more potential cleaning) and finding some tolerable music to listen to while I type... I have nearly forgotten why I felt the need to come in here in the first place.

I recall it having, in an essential way, something to do with blogging and the amount of personal information we share in these rather public forums and whether it has anything to do with the fact that we spent eons in close-knit communities that were obliviated in the space of two generations (it's an estimate, don't knitpick). Is this our answer? Did we recreate our community space with the advent of the internet? How vastly different is this kind of communication, one-way, annonymous, fraught with the perils of the incongruity between those words we would speak and those words we type, the ideas that emerge when we have only our own minds winging along without interaction? I don't really have any answers and I do find solace in things other people write about, but then I always have found solace and comfort in books, which are not so very different in their mode of communication. Perhaps better thought out since more than one reads them before they are "posted", but you get the picture.

A complete aside: My son refers to letters that I post through snail mail as "email". This is his world now and I can only hope to remain relevant as the years pass and the technology advances. What can it be like, I wonder, for those few souls still living who were born early in the last century who had no electricity, no running water, no phones, TVs, computers, cars? What will my life be like when I reach an advanced age?

How random can a post get and still be cohesive?

Family

2008-02-27T19:17:00.002-05:00

It's a totally simple yet utterly perplexing premise.

It's the people with whom you share genetic material, right? Maybe. Maybe not.

It's the people who raise you, right? Maybe. Maybe not.

When a concept can be defined with nearly unlimited variants, you have to wonder about the viability of the word to be able to convey a unified idea to anyone who hears it.

And yet. (Yes, I started a sentence with a conjunction. And I'll likely do it again.)

And yet... say the word family to anyone in the world and they will know know deeply. They will first think of their own family. If they can get past all the thoughts that process engenders, they may be able to conceive that your family (in all likelihood) differs a great deal from their own.

Beyond that, well, that's where all of life's greatest triumphs and tragedies reside, no? There are people related to me by blood for whom I have strongly negative feelings, while there are people I've known less than a quarter of my life for whom I have the fondest of feelings.

Your family is comprised of all those people you love - whether that be one person or a hundred and fifty. The people to whom you can turn for help, even if asking for that help is the hardest thing you've ever done. The people, regardless of their genetic composition, that form the basis of your life. You never know when they'll enter your life... or when they'll leave it.

I'd like to think I have something profound to say to close off this post, but I don't. I've just been thinking lately about all the folks I love and it's quite a list. A list I'm very proud of, at that!

Two Finished Projects and Some Fun

2008-02-24T12:51:00.003-05:00

Like all the other (laundry) things I've been procrastinating, I've been holding on to pictures of some of my FOs for a while. (I recently discovered this term "FO" for Finished Object and its counterpart "UFO" for Unfinished Objects... me likey mucho.)

Here is a small afghan that I gave to a co-worker anxiously awaiting the arrival of his first-born:

I like it - it was soft and simple and easy and pretty. Doesn't get much better than that!

Here's my first full-sized afghan, for a good friend who needed something nice:

Again, it was simple, but it pleased me greatly to have the patience to finish something so large - it's about 6' long by 3.5' wide, my largest completed project to date.

And for a little levity...

I tortured my Noodle Dude by wiping water all over his face after we finished washing our hands. He hates it when his father or I do it... so we do it, every so often, just because.

(Yeah, it was as loud as it looks.)

Organized Doodles: A Friendly Little Game

2008-02-24T11:16:00.000-05:00

I found this post over at Organized Doodles: A Friendly Little Game. I laughed so hard, really deep belly laughs, all the while ignoring my son's demands of, "What's so funny, Mommy?" Since he's only three-and-a-half and he doesn't really get poo humor (toot humor, well, he loves that), I didn't even try to relate the story. I can honestly say that we've had no poo stories of note in his whole life (so far) with the exception of being surprised at the sometimes prodigious amount of the stuff. But I appreciate having the oppportunity to laugh at other people's interesting adventures in kid-raising - Thanks Rick!

Feeling Artistic

2008-02-17T21:21:00.002-05:00

The "Creative Spirit" has been lingering about our abode for the past several days (if she ever really left us at all). It's been a positive thing and a not-so-positive thing - we really have been avoiding the other sundry responsibilities that go along with homeownership and parenthood. As a result, we had to focus all of both of our attentions on the little Noodle Dude just to get him to eat one small serving of baked chicken (which he usually gobbles up without incident). It was frustrating in the extreme but I treated myself to a little R&R after the ordeal and finished this:

Wind-Fire

I'm not totally thrilled with the color job (or the photograph) but I am quite enamored of the media: pencil, sharpie marker, and watercolor pencils. These last are quickly becoming my favorite way to "paint". I haven't had much success with acrylics, oil pastels or tempera (see my previous attempt). The watercolor pencils, though, they seem easier and faster - and accomplish exactly the look I'm going for without a lot of theory or practice. Lazy? Maybe. Perfectly fine by an over-stimulated, high goal-setting wife/mom. So there.

I Love Ani

2008-02-16T10:33:00.005-05:00

I have tried three times to embed a video of Ani DiFranco from an interview in Spinner without success. So I guess I'll have to settle for the link. She's a mommy now and the video of the same song ("Both Hands") from her website has her little munchkin in it. Cute. Enjoy!

Apparently, I'm a glutton for punishment. I just have to try again with her new song "Present/Infant":

Meme Avoidance

2008-02-15T20:26:00.002-05:00

I'm not (really) ashamed to admit that I'm a meme virgin. I just Googled "What is a 'meme'?" I still don't get it. But I've been tagged (and I bet she thought I forgot), so I'll give it a go.

First, the rules:
1. Link to the person who tagged you. See above.
2. Post the rules on your blog. Here they are!
3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself. See below.
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

Six (sechs, six, sei, seis) Non-important Things About Moi

I like French. The language, the country where it originated, La Francophonie - and I occasionally butcher it with as much grace as I can muster. Excuse me while I do some more boucherie... Si vous parlez français, venez-ici pour un jeux j'ai trouver: http://www.xs4all.nl/~tluif/EngFrans2.html

I used to LOVE watching those crap kung fu movies where all the dialogue is dubbed and the barely existant plot is mostly related to some sort of vengance/retribution.

Hmmm... I'm trying to think of things I might not have mentioned to my friends, the ones most likely to even read this post...

I take on certain characteristics of the people around whom I spend most of my time. I don't realize I'm doing it right away and once I am aware, I usually just hope that the person I'm immitating doesn't notice. Or doesn't care.

I'm a little obsessive about daydreaming. I do it a lot. Really, I leave my mental back door open all the time, just in case a nice Spring breeze blows by. I'm sure it annoys people who are trying to talk to me about important stuff while I'm in la-la land. But I can't help it; I started doing it so long ago I can't/don't want to slam that door now.

I'm a late-blossoming Sci-Fi geek. I love Stargate in all its incarnations and especially Jason Momoa (Whoa momma, yummers - I'd swing from his dreds ANY day). I'm a Browncoat (Ay, ay, Captain Tightpants) through and through. But I never read any of the stuff as a kid.

Holy crap, I've been working on this post for a long time. Too many things to stop and search.

I was terrified, thanks to my great-grandmother, of indians when I was a kid. In particular, I was afraid that they would be hiding under my bed. When I was in fourth or fifth grade, I pushed the matress off my bed onto the floor between the bed and the outside wall so that (kid logic follows) if an indian came in the room to scalp me, he wouldn't see me and he would continue searching elsewhere for hapless victims. I never have completely discarded the fear that something might be lurking under the bed, but it no longer strikes me as being (insert war-whoop here)-type. More of the dark, insidious creature that likes to grab ankles sort.

Urgh - I'm crapping out on the last part of the meme - the blogger from from whom I received the tag and the blogger who tagged her are the only two bloggers I know personally. If I cultivate more friendships in the future, I'll come back to this section.

There you have it! Now, it's almost 10 p.m. and my Mr. Momoa is coming on in just a few minutes. Later!

Yes, We Can

2008-02-05T20:46:00.000-05:00

To my mind, this is a beautiful example of the way music can send a message more powerfully than the unadorned words in the much same way that color brings a photo to life.

A "Gaggle" Got Me Going

2008-02-05T16:41:00.000-05:00

Gaggle
–verb (used without object)
1. to cackle.
–noun
2. a flock of geese when not flying.
3. an often noisy or disorderly group or gathering
4. an assortment of related things.

gaggle. Dictionary.com. Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Random House, Inc. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/gaggle (accessed: February 05, 2008).

I looked this word up (on my fourth browser tab this sitting) because I was reading a newsletter from a link in my email that talked about writers establishing websites for themselves. I have had a couple blogs, this one included, that I have kept up only sporadically and a domain I have never used... Just like the last domain I never used prior to both the hosting and the domain running out. (Fifth browser tab opened to check and see who's using that old domain - hmmm... not terrible: http://www.craniumstudios.com/)

Anyway, I was thinking of my currently unused domain/hosting services and began to ponder text for it. What else does a writer do if not ponder text, eh? I envision some melding together of my like-minded friends' talents and in such a vision, some of the intro text might look something like this:

Our gaggle of gals boasts impressive talent in a variety of creative milieux. Passion for community in its myriad forms brought us together and we've all grown thanks to the experiences we've shared. Now we would like to share those experiences with a larger audience.

I know, it's raw, but I like the words "gaggle" and "milieux" - And I know what I mean, so let's just call this a rough draft. Maybe I'll lose the alliteration at the front end.

Okay, so here's the call (don't worry, I'm sure I'll make it again in person) - To all my Black Hats and other like-minded female folk, I would like to extend the invitation to launch Persnickety Me with me. I might need some whipping (won't that be fun?) to keep at it, but I need (on so many levels) to complete this one thing. I'm happy to find space for links, arts & crafts for sale, recommendations, articles, whatever floats anyone's boat. I'm learning the computer side so it might be very basic at first, but I've got a couple tricks up the proverbial sleeve.

See you all real soon!

Playing at Painter

2008-02-03T22:37:00.000-05:00

I've been playing in my son's tempera paints this evening, enjoying myself, but wishing I had some actual idea of what I was doing. To bring it to this point, I then had to take a picture on my digital camera, upload it to Google's Picasa Web Album, then figure out how to embed it here. I'm sure plenty of folks have figured this out prior to me, but it felt like a bit of a coup for me.

coup n. - 1. a highly successful, unexpected stroke, act, or move; a clever action or accomplishment

I guess I was paticularly pleased with myself because it didn't take a day-and-a-half to figure it out, which indicates (to me, at least) that I'm finally gaining some proficiency with this blogging thing.

Sheesh - I'm sleepy. I'll leave my photo of my amateur painting up for all to adore (hahahaha) and climb in the bed... That's still unmade. At least the sheets are "hork-free"!

21 Days, Multitudinous Habits

2008-02-03T09:08:00.000-05:00

What got me thinking about all the habits I would do well to improve upon? Kitty hork. Hork is our generic household term for anything that spews forth from the front end of our centuries old feline fellow. He donated a rather generous hork to the carpet in our front living room this morning before I could skid stocking-footed into the vicinity to alter his trajectory. Tragic.

Further pontification on the subject reminded me that we've been displaced from our bedroom for a whole week due to an unfortunate combination of Kitty hork and a poor habit of mine. Laundry. The great demon whichs spawns itself anew with each passing day. A dear friend says she rather enjoys doing this hellish task - here's her blog, where you can psychoanalyze that proclivity.

So the question becomes: on which poor habits should I first focus my attention? Laundry inattentiveness, nail-biting, procrastination, less-than-optimal eating/exercise routines, poor skincare regimine? (Yes, friends, there are others, but need I air all of my "dirty laundry" in order to make my point?) One of my son's favorite TV channels is running a campaign called Kick One, Pick One - Get rid of a bad habit and replace it with a good one. I think it's reasonably admirable; kids by in large watch an inordinate amount of television, something we've had limited success curtailing. Might as well be pumping SOME good messages into them!

I'm almost sure my husband would suggest that I tame the hulking laundry beast first. It too often occupies the majority of the floor space in our (quite large) master bathroom. One time when I cleaned it all up, Noah came in and cried, "Oh no!" because he missed his climbing pile! That's kind of sad. And don't suggest that I turn the job over to hubby - I promise, he does quite enough as it is. Plus, I would have to teach him how to do it and that just seems, well, pointless.

I think my steam has run out - apparently I need refueling. Had my tea already, but I've been up for two hours with no actual food. Plus, writing this post has been so interrupted by normal morning functioning that I've gone quite off course. Two loads of laundry are in progress, so I guess this could be considered Day 1 of 21. Let's see where we go from here!

More Matisyahu

2008-01-29T22:12:00.000-05:00

Really, just totally freakin' nifty. (Plus, the Noodle-dude CRACKED UP when he started beatboxing. Made me play the clip about six times.)

January by the Lake

2008-01-29T21:29:00.000-05:00

I decided today that it was rather unlikely that the outdoors would come to me and that instead I ought to go to it. So I bundled up the Noodle-dude and we drove to the dam in Buford. Some of the parks were closed, but we found one that was open. After meandering down a sloped sidewalk, we went off-road and hiked through some goose poo down to the water's edge. We climbed down some rather large boulders I am quite certain are supposed to be underwater (at least, when there's no drought about). We walked among hundreds of little empty shells belonging to some mollusks long since gone or dried up too. Noodle sang out how he loved the dirt and the trees and the little nuts and the moss. Made an Earth-child mommy's heart so proud. I think I have found a suitable (and MUCH cheaper) replacement for my unused gym membership!

Matisyahu

2008-01-26T07:14:00.000-05:00

Sleep, Precious (Lost) Sleep

2008-01-26T06:33:00.000-05:00

I should, by all rights, still be asleep. It's my day to sleep in, yet I am awake at my normal time. Why, you ask? My sweet old man Kitty. Decided he was going to sit beside our bed (on my side) and caterwaul. It's so rutting early that I had to adjust the monitor brightness since my eyes were being burnt from my skull. (Why that brings to mind the thought of solitary confinement is beyond me. Like I said, I should still be asleep.)

However, once awake, I started thinking. Always my downfall. I thought that I needed to start writing in my blogs more (hence the post). I thought about adding some of my crafting to this blog since my life is relatively without drama (just as I like it, thank you VERY much!). I thought that I'd like to fall back asleep but my brain refused to cooperate.

I've just gone over this post to check for errors - Oh the egregious blunders one commits while tired and typing in the dark! Hope I caught 'em all...

Not a Writer?

2008-01-17T17:25:00.000-05:00

I haven't been in the mood to write for a while... Like going on over two months or so. Really one of the oddest things I've ever experienced. I just don't feel like it. It's not as though I haven't had ideas for stories or I haven't had time or anything. I just don't FEEL like writing.

And now my smallish person is making demands on me to prevent further exposition... Perhaps there will be more later.

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-25T07:45:00.000-05:00

I don't know exactly how it is that I find myself on the computer so early this morning. I think it has something to do with waking up, starting to think, and... well, that was all she wrote for my time in the bed. I had to come into the computer room to Google something and then I had to look up something related to my Google search on Dictionary.com. Now I'm on to a blog entry and wondering why my keyboard is misbehaving. Bizarre.

I just learned how to spell tangential - I thought there was no "i". Yay me.

So... Merry Christmas to all and to all a good day

Urghl...

2007-11-13T21:32:00.000-05:00

Wasn't my last post about having not posted in too long of a time?!?! (I wouldn't know; I haven't read my blog since the last time I posted - TWO months ago!)

So I'm sitting here listening to my friends Spiral Rhythm. They're vunderbar! (Don't shoot me, I really don't speak any real German.) I'm reveling in my new job at one of the "world's leading confectionary companies". I'm blessing all the heavens above that there is very little DRAMA in my life at the moment. I'm thinking of leaving my husband (who won't answer his cell phone) a note to tell him that our three-year-old had a poop so big it clogged our upstairs toilet. (What?!? ME use the plunger, WHATEVER!) I'm in wonder at the fact that this is the first thing I've written in over two weeks... what's more, I think I'm okay with that fact. I'm wondering when my good friend Kit is gonna "pop" and welcome the newest member of our Wednesday mommies' group.

And I'm tickled with my silly self for coming up with "smart-soundin'" tags for this post. Anyone out there know XML? I'm trying to learn and could use a few astute pointers, web resources, etc.

Love ya's all!

Aha-ha-ha-ha

2007-09-24T14:51:00.000-04:00

Amazing the things we begin and allow to lapse and start over and forget about and try again...

I've been reading (and re-reading) a comforting book called "Making Your Creative Dreams REAL" by SARK. It's a very forgiving way of following your OWN path toward the dreams you have, be they outlandish or practical or somewhere in between.

From it I've been learning a lot about my own creative process - not only the measurement of my progress, but truly of the process itself. I dream of being a well-fed, published writer. I think I learned to be a storyteller when I was very young so it's a dream that's been nurtured since I can remember. It's also a dream that's ripe for moving into it's next phase, shifting its incarnation from a hidden, little-shared state to (at least) peeking out into the big, glorious, scary, wonderful world.

Another suggestion SARK offers is to make microMOVEments - these are small steps that eventually add up to bigger and bigger accomplishments. My past two weeks have been full of these small steps (plus a few of what I call macroMOVEments) and has resulted in my having a mostly clean, somewhat usable craft room for the first time in many, many, months.

Just in case I never get to say it anywhere else, thanks SARK!

My "Good Friday"

2007-04-05T07:20:00.000-04:00

I am to be laid off from my job tomorrow. I was not really surprised to find this out, but still had a moment of tentative fear.

Then, as I glanced over the things on my desk, my eyes landed on the calendar, which showed that tomorrow, Friday, April 6, 2007, is Good Friday (the Christian holiday).

I thought this relatively amusing since I have been wanting for a while to be rid of the burden of my workplace. This morning, just to remind myself that I can make it through these last two tedious days, I looked up the definition of Good Friday on Wikipedia:

"Good Friday is a holy day observed by Christians. Special prayer services are often held on this day with readings from the Gospel giving accounts of the events leading up to the crucifixion. Mainstream Christian churches view Christ's crucifixion as a voluntary and vicarious act, and one by which, along with resurrection on the third day, death itself was conquered."

It is a celebration of DEATH ITSELF [BEING] CONQUERED!!!

How apropos... I am so happy to experience this "little death" (oh wait, that's Shakespearean language for "orgasm" - haha - still somewhat appropriate, I guess) and know that new life awaits just beyond!

I am going back to my roots, banking on my passions combined with my talents instead of just my "abilities" - such a lack luster term. The thought alone causes my heart to swell with positive anticipation - and that is how I am sure that I am headed in the right direction!

The Beginning of the End

2007-04-04T07:27:00.000-04:00

And the start of something new!

As with all things, a cycle of my life is reaching its conclusion. I celebrate the coming of this end because it brings with it the promise for a reinvention of my world.

For the first time in my long, somewhat tumultuous career history, I have been confronted with a layoff. It, luckily, didn't strike out of the blue and I find that the simple knowledge that the path is set has begun to open many other doors of possibility.

It won't be a "walk in the park," but I feel strongly that I needed this weight removed from my shoulders before I could stand tall again.

Let's all hope that this will give me more time and space (and energy) to return to those things that nourish my spirit - Like BLOGGING!

Of All Things Time

2007-02-20T07:26:00.000-05:00

I have often had the sense that certain parts of my life are flying by with a startling rapidity while other parts drag on like a decaying corpse sealed in time by an embalmer's ministrations...

I read an article this morning on Thai "body snatchers" (just before flipping over to check out Britney's bald head - she still has a pretty face). These folks are mostly Buddhist volunteers who outfit their own personal vehicles to be able to transport injured or expired people to the appropriate destinations (medical or morgue). They, because of their beliefs, pick up every bit of a person they can find so the person will be reborn whole in their next incarnation. What a genuinely morbid way to start a day that will inevitably (for me) include reading investigations about people suspected of committing insurance fraud... Perhaps it's high time I peruse alternative employment!

Disillusionment

2007-02-05T10:22:00.000-05:00

Though it's at first tough to be confronted by a facade falling away to reveal the true (and in this case unpleasant) nature of a person, place or idea, ultimately it's rewarding. At the most basic level, the least that will come out of a situation like that is that you will be unlikely to repeat the steps that took you to that place.

For me, I believe that I will start with approaching work-related friendships with a bit more reserve. I found myself inadvertently in the middle of an unfortunate situation in the workplace due to a friendship I'd been cultivating for over two years. The fact that the friendship had survived one of us changing jobs had indicated to me that it may evolve; however, that does not now seem to be the case. The disillusionment came in the form of an epiphany that my friend was NOT going to be changing behaviors that were detrimental to her health and the health of her children, no matter how much she spoke with me about WANTING to change.

I admit to being a bit slow to change negative patterns in my own life and certainly some decisions to change are more difficult than others. This being a matter involving children, I felt that more expedient attention should be given in this case - at least, that is how I myself would have wished to handle it.

While I hate to see a friendship die, I am learning the value of letting those that have ceased to be of value to both parties go into the dust so that new friendships can be birthed in their place. I wish my friend well and while I imagine I may hear from her from time to time, I do not forsee us being able to return to where we once were.

Reconnecting

2007-01-19T07:06:00.000-05:00

I've had the distinct pleasure of recently reconnecting with one of my cousins on my mother's side. We've had fun discovering how our lives have been both similar and dissimilar, reminisced about long ago Christmastimes and generally begun creating a friendship I hope will be long-lasting.

It makes me wonder how many of my other cousins would have an interest in rekindling family ties. I have cousins that range in age from my parents' age to my son's age who are scattered all across the country... What sort of fun might we all have if we could interact easily? It kind of makes me want to start building a family tree website where we could all "meet" and share our lives a little more frequently than we otherwise would. I know it's not a new idea, but it could sure be interesting!

Allocating Stolen Moments

2007-01-18T10:25:00.000-05:00

So, perhaps I'm not the only one who utilizes time "on the clock" to accomplish tasks other than those assigned to me by my employer, but I'm sure I get some of the most creative use out of that time!

I've put together post card mailings, created web sites (and blogs), retraced family roots, paid bills, gone on online shopping sprees, caught up with current events worldwide, researched obscure subject matter, written short stories, slept (yup, slept), and even took time to just do nothing at all.

Which makes me think about a couple things in particular:

What if I had allocated those stolen moments to something truly productive or, in more specific terms, lucrative? How could I have (let's think business for a minute) leveraged my time and created a product or service from which I could earn income? I admit, I have done extensive research on different ways to make money; I've simply never followed through with any of them.

Also, I often wonder: if I was working in a field for which I had true passion, would I be as likely to look for diversions or would I spend those "free" moments hunting for ways to further my knowledge and experience in those areas I find rewarding? I want to believe the best of myself but I have to realize that almost everyone needs an escape from even those things they are most passionate about sometimes.

Finally, I have to reflect on those things I do have the most passion for at this moment (in random order):
Healthful Eating/Cooking
Writing
Crocheting
My Young but Maturing Family
Spiritual Growth (no definable path)

I know that even in the wake of an impending (inevitable?) change of employment, I know I will probably always have "stolen moments" during which I can continue to grow and evolve - and those moments mean the world to me!

Hippychick

2006-10-30T12:39:00.000-05:00

I found a nifty little site while on my search for the elusive song "Hippychick" by Soho. Try searching lyrics sites for "hippie chick" and you won't even graze this one... Oh well, here's the video so you don't have to do your OWN search (be patient - there's a short commercial before the song):

Soho - Hippychick
Music Video Codes By Music Video Code

Workaday World Blues

2006-10-24T14:27:00.000-04:00

I dislike some things about the way the working world works... Hmmm, that's pretty mild and a fairly generic statement to make. I strongly dislike the fact that when business sucks, especially in a small business, the people who are responsible for shouldering the heaviest load are the first to be "cut" from the budget. Little errors, the kind that are par for the course, are treated as major infractions and simply fuel the fire of "bottomline" thinking.

It's never reflected upon that, for example, if sales was doing the things they needed to, we wouldn't be having discussions about who might be "let go". We would be working so hard the days would fly by (still making minor mistakes, mind you) and they would be talking about hiring more folks.

That's the real trouble - companies would rather let go of a decent employee than fire a bad one and they'd rather train someone new after a round of layoffs when they could have just hung on to another through a drought. I realize I'm being vague and I hope to goodness the "talk" will be over soon. It's just the sands through which we must slog until then that get to me.

Some Things Happen...

2006-10-24T11:20:00.000-04:00

And you don't always know the reason for them right away. It takes time to integrate the experience into your concept of life and the world and then some day it just dawns on you, "Wow! That's why I saw/learned/dreamed/felt that!" It's a refreshing experience when the epiphany finally comes and you can take a deep breath.

I know life works cyclically, too - Sometimes you're in an up cycle and sometimes it's the other direction. While most people who aren't cynical, depressed or masochistic prefer the up, it's definitely valuable to have them both: for regeneration, rebirth, learning and just to have the sense of peace that accompanies reaching the top of the long climb up the hill and seeing the beautiful landscape beyond.

"I can see clearly now, the rain is gone..."

I'm DIZZY!

2006-10-19T14:23:00.000-04:00

Ok - So I was mildly chastised (thanks for the push, though, Kit) for having neglected my lonely little blog... Good thing they let your account stand unused indefinitely (I think)!

I am working my way into a new venture, a new stage of my evolution as it were. I'm working on developing a modest website dedicated to healing the tumultuous relationship so many of us have with my favorite four-letter word: FOOD.

It's important to me to start working on my goal and a wise person suggested a website because of the possibility for a more instantaneous type of gratification than might be avilable through other methods. I hope to use the contacts I make through the site to extend my abilities to share with people the struggles I (and so many others) have had with food - and show them that there is hope for healing.

One way I hope to accomplish this is through a book of recipes accompanied by the stories of those who gifted the recipes to me. Another is the development of a program I can personally teach to people who want to learn more about food as a way to nourish more than just their bodies; it's about so much more than mere physical sustenance.

I understand that baby steps (with an occasional leap off a cliff) are probably the best way to approach my new venture. There is so much for me to learn! But with each thing I learn, whether about nutrition, business or web development, I put myself that much closer to my goal of having a truly meaningful career - a "lifestyle" that I have designed myself, not just allowed to "happen" to me.

This post is a bit stream of consciousness, eh? Yeah, well, my mind traveling in so many directions at once tends to make my writing that way, too. Go figure!

Thanks for stopping by!

I have that CD already?!?

2006-07-14T06:47:00.000-04:00

Ok, here's a bizarre phenomenon - I was upstairs in my Craft Room rummaging for some CDs I like to load into my laptop. (That would be so that I can block out the sounds of my little person's Signing Times DVDs while I write.) So I'm going through a big bin of them and I see a CD in there that I didn't know I had. This was a good thing because recently I had contemplated buying said CD, but hadn't wanted to spend the money.

I took the CD downstairs and loaded it in iTunes. Then the songs started playing once they were all imported. I recognized the first song and thought, "Oh, I must've heard that one on the radio." The second song began and I thought, "Oh, they must've played that one on the radio, too." By the time the third came around and the fourth and I recognized them all, I started to realize that I (apparently) had listened to this particular CD several times and knew all the songs rather well... Yet I'd somehow forgotten I even owned the blasted thing...

I'm sure any number of things contributed to my memory loss (lack of sleep, no exercise, poor diet - oh, two-year-old son). Still, it was disconcerting. I was truly shocked when I saw the CD in my bin and truly had no memory of it until I started playing the songs.

I think that falls under the heading of having way too much stuff - eBay, here I come!

Getting Started on a Story

2006-07-04T11:45:00.000-04:00

I am so excited. I have just been doing some research for a story idea I had and I think it's all going to work out well. I started writing the story a couple days ago after reading an article about Grain Amaranth early last week. It's amazing where story ideas find their genesis!

I will be posting the story in chapters on storywrite.com and hope I can get at least a few people hooked to help me along during its development. The plan right now is to write it from the points of view of two different characters, one in first person and the other in third person. It's not a new concept (see the Bartimaeus Trilogy and Anne Rice's Beauty series), but I think I might be able to pull it off.

I don't want to give too much away (just in case anyone actually reads this post), but two distant cousins inherit property from an elderly uncle and find friendship, a new purpose in life and some old family secrets in the process. There's a lot of ground to cover and I think I might have found an idea that's actually long enough to translate into a book.

Tentative/Working Title: Raising Amaranth

Here's me wishing me luck!

Completely Crass!

2006-06-30T11:40:00.000-04:00

I don't normally address topics like this in my writing terribly often, but this is something that's bothered me for years and I just have to have an outlet:

Public Restroom Etiquette

I work in an upscale-area of Atlanta, GA, in an up-scale building. The bathrooms have beautiful marble counters and tile floors. Everything is high-end (or at least upper-middle end) and the restrooms rarely even have an odor (unless the odiferous individual has only recently departed).

So how is it that, at least twice a week, some individual of the female persuasion flouts convention (and hygiene) by depositing liquid fecal matter on the back of the toilet seat, then has not even the courtesy to wipe it up?

Were I the offender, I believe that I would surely be aware of my propensity for projectile "poop". I find it highly unlikely that a functioning adult (presumably, as there are no daycares in our building) would fail to recognize that they had left behind a mess. That being assumed, this means only one thing: They are aware of their indiscretion and consciously CHOOSE to leave the stall without affecting a clean-up.

It is so beyond my comprehension and so utterly revolting, I wish desperately to type up a message and affix it in the stall where the offense most often occurs:

If you SHIT on the SEAT, please CLEAN it UP!

Simple, effective, to the point... and probably a quite pointless gesture. I have little doubt that it would be removed before anyone was properly motivated to correct their unfortunate habits!

Oh, Those Songs of Our Youth

2006-06-28T06:46:00.000-04:00

I have had a thing lately for Fleetwood Mac. I'm not even that creative about it - I like all of their songs that were their biggest hits. I listen to a lot of satellite radio (Sirius at work and XM in my car) and I glom onto those songs like a thirsty baby on a boob whenever they come on. There seems to be something familiar about them that defies definition... But, I am afterall a writer, so of course I will try to define it!

I think the songs remind me of the pleasant times during my childhood. The reason why I like the top hits is no real mystery, I guess. They were simply the ones I heard most on the radio. There were no CD players, I don't think we really had an 8-track player that I remember and albums were not something my parents had a lot of extra money to go buying a bunch of. (There was always a copy of The White Album around, of course.)

The memories that rise to the surface are of our house in Virginia on the Chesapeake Bay called Pineview where I had a treehouse named Little Pineview. My father and grandfather built it over a long weekend in the rain and both got sick. I loved to go up there (because my sisters, both under the age of three) couldn't follow me there. I had a tree stump table and chairs, two windows on leather hinges and an unbounded imagination. I pretended to fight off indians and water moccasins, cure people (of what I don't know) with ground up tree bark, and just generally created as much made-up life as I could. I wasn't very fond of having to share my dad's time with my sisters, but up in my treehouse, I really didn't have to share with anyone. Perfect for a child of SIX!

I really don't know how those memories tie to the Fleetwood Mac songs - it's one of those organic things that just spawns an outpouring of memories that is hard to collect, hard to stem and just plain hard to express. I'll probably keep hunting for those songs for a good while - they're good for opening up a vein and finding story fodder!

Oh! And I want to post about Writer's Block, but it'll have to wait because I gotta get to work! Stay tuned!

Oh, but it's ME... a couple years ago!

2006-06-25T15:39:00.000-04:00

Joining Up

2006-06-25T09:28:00.000-04:00

I have joined Storywrite.com and am (cough) slighty appalled at what passes for storytelling. Their point system is also a bit confusing... Oh well, I have to start somewhere to regain my critical thinking skills.

I want to tell so many of these writers that just because you CAN post a story, doesn't mean you SHOULD. It's not that I don't wish for them to become writers - I certainly am not worried about any "spotlight sharing" - I just wish they had a better idea of what makes a good story. Oh, and why their story isn't good yet. I will always allow for the benefit of the doubt that they could improve.

Whew, apparently I needed to rant after spending two hours of my Sunday morning reading drivel that other people were praising with words I would reserve for much better writing. I just hope I can hunt out some pieces worth reading and commenting on in my next several trips there.

Favorite Words

2006-06-16T07:18:00.000-04:00

It's been rather longer than I had intended since I first started this blog. (Please refer to my previous blog comment about serial passions keeping me from the laundry.)

I thought it funny last night as I read from Carolyn See's book "Making a Literary Life" that she would mention Favorite Words... and how to avoid them in your writing.

Every writer has a set of favorite words that s/he tends to overuse and I think I've found two of mine: copasetic and ostensibly. However, I will admit to verbal abuse of these two words rather than written overuse. As a matter of fact, I usually forget how to spell "copasetic" and have to rely on SpellCheck to help me out so I am very aware of my written usage of that particular word.

I have also cut down on "hopefully" because MSWord nails me on it every time with a little green underline.

Now that I've remembered that I HAVE a blog, "hopefully" you'll see me back here more often!

Weighing In

2006-02-09T12:16:00.000-05:00

On Music: I prefer storytellers over bee-boppers.

It's not out of any particular animosity toward the performers themselves (unless they're acting in ways utterly unbecoming of role models), but I want to know the story through the song itself. Not the backstory, not the behind-the-scenes. I want to experience the whole gamut in one tidy package. Story-told songs can always take me back to the moment at which I first identified with the song.

"Old Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town" by Pearl Jam or "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd, "Under the Milkyway" by The Church and "32 Flavors" by Ani DiFranco, "Breathe (2 a.m.) by Anna Nalick.

Separate pieces of my soul resonate with each song.

Once Again Obsessed

2006-02-09T07:38:00.000-05:00

OK, I admit, perhaps obsessed isn't the proper terminology. It's my serial passions - they overtake me and keep me from doing the laundry.

I began a creative writing class last night at a community school. It's not for credit but I hope it will be a new way to interact with authors again.

I've been formulating my own designs for both a writing business and a creative writing class of my own. It's my hope to chronicle some of that journey here.

Should anyone stop by, please feel free to comment on the contents of my gypsy world - I love feedback!

It's a Gypsy World

Time After Time

Taken In

Aye, Dream

Exposing Personal Myths

Shine On

What Is Real?

Happy Trails

Just Weight

Castles in the Sky

Gifted

Grief Gratitude Grace

Easier Said Than

It CAN Be Done

Little Pig, Little Pig

Getting There

You Are HERE

Contemplative

Cute Video: "1000 Times No"

Artistic Endeavors

What Gives?

Quiet Memories

Oh, Are You?

Good Heavens - Great Scott!

Truly, Deeply

Grace-full

Good-for-Your Soul Food

Why WFWY*?

Whole Foods for a Whole Year aka WFWY

Whole Foods for a Whole Year

The Engineer

Where's My Camera?

Once and Future Queen

As The Little Globe Spins

1779/1476

This Is What Happens, Part 2

This Is What Happens...

Sometimes I Wonder

Oh, to be Pioneer Woman…

Insatiable

Pregger Dreams

He got SHOT!

Walk A Mile

Feeling a Bit Preggers

Sleeplessness and Peep

Blogosphere Tripping

Nightwish - "The Islander"

Wasteland

Mmmm... Hummus

Some Fascinating Math

I, Meme, Mine...

Impromptu Saturdays

Wine & Hummus... A Vacation Story

Oooh Girl

After All

Family

Two Finished Projects and Some Fun

Organized Doodles: A Friendly Little Game

Feeling Artistic

I Love Ani

Meme Avoidance

Yes, We Can

A "Gaggle" Got Me Going

Playing at Painter

21 Days, Multitudinous Habits

More Matisyahu

January by the Lake

Matisyahu

Sleep, Precious (Lost) Sleep

Not a Writer?

Merry Christmas!

Urghl...

Aha-ha-ha-ha

My "Good Friday"

The Beginning of the End

Of All Things Time

Disillusionment

Reconnecting

Allocating Stolen Moments

Hippychick