They named me Maraiya and taught me that my name meant wind. My mom was even specific enough to say, "the east wind of destruction that purifies the land before Christ comes." I have no idea what her source was but such was the indoctrination of my youth.
Then, when I was six, they moved us to a place where the wind blows. Oh how it blows - right off the glaciers at 100+mph, strong gusts that can knock you over or carry you a few feet if you happen to have cardboard wings attached to your arms. (Not me, my older brother.) Winds that make boats in the harbor rock and birds take to the skies without ever flapping their wings.
Seriously, what were they thinking? Because I, Leo that I am, can never seem to shake the feeling that I am the one creating all this wind. As a kid I used to say all sorts of "spells" to get the winds to stop or gust up and blow from certain directions. And now, as a 34yo adult, I can't walk through such gusty winds without thinking in my heart, "Ah yeah - I did this, " and cackling maniacally. (And boy, can I cackle - I've scared my kids a time or two - does that count as a spiritual gift? talent?)
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
How Could I Forget??
Did I tell you?
No, I know I didn't.
Our house sold. As of August 21, 2009, we were no longer homeowners in Oregon.
YEA!!
Of course, with that comes a bit of sadness. The yellow had grown on me and the worn carpet was home to my children's first steps (Quinn and Lulu anyway). There's a bit of loss in saying goodbye to what was such a frustrating yet blissful home.
It doesn't help either that we are still without a home of our own. Grrrr.....someday.
Also, in other news, may I also tell you that yesterday was my 12 wedding anniversary.
12 flippin' years.
It was a bit anticlimatic. (Not even including the fact that I realized, with a physical start, on the 10th that my anniversary was in 3 days.)
Sure we did some celebrating but it was another Sunday - get the kids ready for church, attend church, some home and look sadly at the bed wishing we could take a nap but knowing dinner must be made and the children want to play card games. And then the day was done and we're working on our 13th year.
Do the celebrations get less and less every year?
I did find some joy in thinking that if we've known each other for 14 years, been together for 13 and married for 12 that we should be able to handle another 12 or 30.
No, I know I didn't.
Our house sold. As of August 21, 2009, we were no longer homeowners in Oregon.
YEA!!
Of course, with that comes a bit of sadness. The yellow had grown on me and the worn carpet was home to my children's first steps (Quinn and Lulu anyway). There's a bit of loss in saying goodbye to what was such a frustrating yet blissful home.
It doesn't help either that we are still without a home of our own. Grrrr.....someday.
Also, in other news, may I also tell you that yesterday was my 12 wedding anniversary.
12 flippin' years.
It was a bit anticlimatic. (Not even including the fact that I realized, with a physical start, on the 10th that my anniversary was in 3 days.)
Sure we did some celebrating but it was another Sunday - get the kids ready for church, attend church, some home and look sadly at the bed wishing we could take a nap but knowing dinner must be made and the children want to play card games. And then the day was done and we're working on our 13th year.
Do the celebrations get less and less every year?
I did find some joy in thinking that if we've known each other for 14 years, been together for 13 and married for 12 that we should be able to handle another 12 or 30.
Adjusting to Life
I've been an Alaskan resident for the past 2.5 months. May I say that life is different here? Sure, we still drive cars and not dog sleds; we live in homes and not igloos; I've never had an opportunity to eat whale meat; and they are just as panicked here about the swine flu as is the lower 48.
However.....
Every home either has a metal roof (I am living in a rain forest) or moss growing on its roof.
There are barely any heat pumps and almost every home has a large oil tank sitting outside for heat.
Girls still wear dresses to school but they are accompanied by pants underneath as well as rain boots.
My children have to walk to school on the main street and not the side streets as there have been bear sightings.
Every one owns rain gear.
Summer ended August first and, if the crispness in the air this morning was any indication, winter will be here in another month or so.
It rains. Oh, how it rains. I always used to say that Western Oregon didn't get enough rain and I have loved having more, but I had definitely forgotten the pervasive dampness and general overcast/drizzly days that are a normal occurrence.
Church is a little difference. We had our stake conference yesterday (a stake is a group of wards/congregations). Instead of just having a building FULL of people, we had a building full of people plus phone/internet connections to the outlying wards (Craig; Ketchikan; Whitehorse, YT, Canada; Gustavus; Sitka; etc.) Our chapel has two hardwired video cameras and its own A/V booth. I had forgotten how difficult it can be to arrange events with people scattered about and not connected by roadways.
"A Chicken in Every Pot" is translated here as "A Boat in Every Driveway." Seriously. Everyone has a boat. Which is great for our business, but makes hearing others' anecdotes a bit different than down south.
There are fish and crab every where. Spawned salmon washed up on the beach with their eyes plucked out. (Apparently it's the local birds' favorite.) Customers have brought us salmon, crab and halibut by the garbage bag fulls. (I have eaten so much crab that we have had to throw away leftovers as they didn't get eaten in time.) Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but when we went out to dinner the other night, I didn't order seafood and for the first time it had nothing to do with the cost.
10 miles is a long, long way to drive. Everyone avoids having to do so at all costs.
I'm thinking about buying stock in hot cocoa. Or maybe I should start up one of those MM companies so I can buy the cocoa really cheap. And soup. Because I seem to be cold all. the. time. My friends say I'll adjust but my heart tells me, "But I look at the calendar and I KNOW it's still supposed to be summer!"
The biggest change for me is the lack of friends (I have two) and even with the friends I have, lack of time to see them. I miss going to play groups and all those wonderful things that keep me in touch with the women in my life. I like working (for the most part) with my husband and dad, but there is something decidedly missing when you are surrounded by only men or children all the time.
The other problem is that we're still living with my dad in his tumbling down home. My concerns over safety are in the back of my head but the building's survived this long, I've gotten immune to the random inclines (the foundation is sinking) and just consider it to a good walking work out. However, my bedroom is separated from my dad's bedroom by a small, defunct bathroom. And, well, (cough) there are just somethings that should be heard by parents and children. Ever. But I'm afraid to ask if there's an issue. Ignorance is bliss.
However.....
Every home either has a metal roof (I am living in a rain forest) or moss growing on its roof.
There are barely any heat pumps and almost every home has a large oil tank sitting outside for heat.
Girls still wear dresses to school but they are accompanied by pants underneath as well as rain boots.
My children have to walk to school on the main street and not the side streets as there have been bear sightings.
Every one owns rain gear.
Summer ended August first and, if the crispness in the air this morning was any indication, winter will be here in another month or so.
It rains. Oh, how it rains. I always used to say that Western Oregon didn't get enough rain and I have loved having more, but I had definitely forgotten the pervasive dampness and general overcast/drizzly days that are a normal occurrence.
Church is a little difference. We had our stake conference yesterday (a stake is a group of wards/congregations). Instead of just having a building FULL of people, we had a building full of people plus phone/internet connections to the outlying wards (Craig; Ketchikan; Whitehorse, YT, Canada; Gustavus; Sitka; etc.) Our chapel has two hardwired video cameras and its own A/V booth. I had forgotten how difficult it can be to arrange events with people scattered about and not connected by roadways.
"A Chicken in Every Pot" is translated here as "A Boat in Every Driveway." Seriously. Everyone has a boat. Which is great for our business, but makes hearing others' anecdotes a bit different than down south.
There are fish and crab every where. Spawned salmon washed up on the beach with their eyes plucked out. (Apparently it's the local birds' favorite.) Customers have brought us salmon, crab and halibut by the garbage bag fulls. (I have eaten so much crab that we have had to throw away leftovers as they didn't get eaten in time.) Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but when we went out to dinner the other night, I didn't order seafood and for the first time it had nothing to do with the cost.
10 miles is a long, long way to drive. Everyone avoids having to do so at all costs.
I'm thinking about buying stock in hot cocoa. Or maybe I should start up one of those MM companies so I can buy the cocoa really cheap. And soup. Because I seem to be cold all. the. time. My friends say I'll adjust but my heart tells me, "But I look at the calendar and I KNOW it's still supposed to be summer!"
The biggest change for me is the lack of friends (I have two) and even with the friends I have, lack of time to see them. I miss going to play groups and all those wonderful things that keep me in touch with the women in my life. I like working (for the most part) with my husband and dad, but there is something decidedly missing when you are surrounded by only men or children all the time.
The other problem is that we're still living with my dad in his tumbling down home. My concerns over safety are in the back of my head but the building's survived this long, I've gotten immune to the random inclines (the foundation is sinking) and just consider it to a good walking work out. However, my bedroom is separated from my dad's bedroom by a small, defunct bathroom. And, well, (cough) there are just somethings that should be heard by parents and children. Ever. But I'm afraid to ask if there's an issue. Ignorance is bliss.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Day of Reckoning
Well, the day has come and gone and I need to account for my year of miracles. Truth be told, half way through this year I paused to consider the fact that I had never prayed about my list and that became more evident as my life dramatically shifted and miracles I was looking to accomplish suddenly became moot points. Additionally, miracles I hadn't even considered, yea, they were not even a glimmer in my eye, began to appear.
But, first, let's recap:
1. Read my scriptures, cover to cover, book to book.
I didn't do this. I didn't come close to doing this. I may never do this in a year in my entire life. But I have had good jags of dedicated reading (a month or two at a time) and I'm optimistic about new habits being formed. Either way, I felt an increased love for the scriptures and a greater desire to read them
2. Run a mile in less than 10 minutes. This may have to be reduced to just running a mile.
19. Be able to use 10, 12 and 15 pound weights for weight lifting workouts.
Ha. Haha. Hahahahahahahahaha. Okay. Got that out of my system. So...yeah, no, this didn't happen either. It's funny too because these were the goals I really wanted (top of the list) and nothing happened. Perhaps God's list doesn't match mine? But I have been going for walks. I won't even scratch this one as I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to be going for walks; the 6:30am wake up calls are killing me.
3. Watch my tongue. Not sure how to measure success of this measure.
I'm not quite sure if I succeeded at this, I still make poor choices on the things that come out of my mouth, but I am much more aware of what I'm saying and when I've misspoken. I'm counting that as an advancement in this area.
4. Befriend someone new.
I've made online friends, I've been better at retaining friends I've made in the past and I've become closer with some people who were just acquaintances. Additionally, I have been making stronger efforts to step up to others and to leave my comfort zone.
5. Befriend someone I don't like. I hear my therapist cautioning that there could be a good and healthy reason that I don't like them and maybe it's better they weren't really my "friend."
I don't think that I did this. I'm learning how to set boundaries and be friendly to those who have burnt me while still being cautious. But I am learning that I don't have to be and I cannot be friends with everyone. I think I'll cross this off anyway.....
5. Befriend someone I don't like. I hear my therapist cautioning that there could be a good and healthy reason that I don't like them and maybe it's better they weren't really my "friend."
6. Find a charity to support and donate, even a buck every month.
I've learned that I already have quite the spirit of giving and tend to give money to all sorts of causes without even thinking about it - supporting my kids in their schools, donating money at the grocery stores, buying things from school groups, my church donations, etc. I've also learned that it's very hard to pick one thing to support as there are so many in need and so many worthy causes.
7. Take two LCC math classes to bone up for grad school.
8. Call the Hult Center to look into volunteering as an usher - free viewing of theatrical productions- woo hoo!
10. Volunteer or, potentially, substitute in HS math.
11. Call Pacific University and discuss MEd program.
12. Call UofO and discuss MEd programs.
God essentially nullified these with His one miracle list. Next time, remind me to plug my computer into His blackberry and sync them up before attempting this. Although I did learn that right now I want a MAT (MA in Teaching) and not a MEd (Masters of Eduction) as the first is to get my teaching certificate and the 2nd is for people who have already been teaching. See? I did start the ball rolling....
9. Monthly dates with my DH. Perhaps I should tell Robert that we are doing this....
I'm checking this one off. While we did follow through a few times this year, we didn't ever have a regular date night or even something written on the calendar proclaiming DATE NIGHT! However, I have learned though that we do spend of lot of time together as is and that working on a relationship takes work, time and an effort to make it a priority. And I think we hit the dating thing enough months (especially with all the absentee time) to count.
13. Spend 1/2 hr. one on one with each of my kids weekly but I'll settle for monthly.
Um.....yeah....no. This one was a spectacular failure. May I say, for the record even, that I am a horrible, HORRIBLE single mother. I'm just starting to recoup and enjoy my kids again after living for months in survival mode.
14. Talk to my MIL about how much I appreciate her sacrifices regarding my wedding. (Robert was the only member in his family, we were married in the Seattle Temple - you do the math.)
This one is still very much in my heart and my mind. I haven't had a chance to talk with her, fact to face, and I'm not sure it's appropriate over the phone or in a letter.
15. Survive July in Alaska. Not talking about the wild animals...or maybe I am! :)
Done and done. Last year and this and August is looking hopeful too!
16. Attend a temple endowment session. At least once. Potential bonus points for additional visits.
17. Attend a temple initiatory session. Do we call it a session? Oh well, there it is.
And I get bonus points too as I did both at least a 2nd time (I don't think I managed a third). So, I'm figuring that all my bonus points can cover the miracles that didn't occur! ;)
18. Write 33 Thank You notes or "love letters" (not romantic ones but "I think you are super fabulous" kind of love letters) to individuals who have touched my life. Preferably hand-written.
I only ever managed one or two and there are some people to whom I need to send these letters. Again, this will be a good reminder.
20. Monthly love notes to my children and husband. Maybe just daily one liners. Still flexible on this.
I did the one liners for a few weeks and the family really loved them. I need to start them again because they really did help. However, I don't think I can cross this off as I didn't even do enough to get it more on my radar.
21. Find hope again. A real miracle. Desperately seeking God's blessing in this one.
I know right? After a few agonizing weeks in Alaska, I'm beginning to feel alive and hopeful again. I have loved being able to see and talk to my dad and Aunt Judy on a regular basis. I have loved living with Robert again. And even Alaska is starting to seep back into my bones and heart. Overall, these last couple of weeks I have really felt at peace and hopeful and comfortable behind my rose colored glasses.
22. Make matching dresses for me and Lulu while she's still young enough to think it's cool instead of a reason to vomit.
Yeah.....no. And I think she may have reached the vomitting age - not sure - I'll have to ask.
23. Scrapbook 1 year of photos. Too ambitious? Maybe, one month of photos. Whatever. I just need to scrapbook a few more pages.
I haven't scrapbooked in forever! But I do know where all my supplies are (amazing since they're still in boxes in our shipping containers). So, can I half scratch this one? No? Yes?
24. Get the photos on my computer developed.
Done. Now if only I'd done it BEFORE the crash last spring!
25. Get the photos sitting on rolls of film in my closet developed.
Done!!
26. Clean off my bedroom dresser.
27. Keep my bedroom dresser clean for one week.
28. Take a family picture (sans DH) in front of the Mendenhall Glacier.
Done, done, did. WOO HOO! I like this part of the list.
29. Come to grips with the imminence of death and see it as a blessing rather than a curse. Meaning, stop fretting that everyone I love is going to die and leave me but rejoice in having them now.
Yeah, I'm still not there. I don't know if I'll ever be but I believe I'm beginning to catch glimpses of such a vision. Mostly I've learned that mortality sucks and involves me crying. A lot.
30. Begin to like my emotions. Mmmm...I'd just be happy to have the desire to plant this seed.
See #29.
31. Finish typing up my mom's journals. (I'm sure everyone will be happy to begin receiving entries again on a regular basis.)
No. I haven't touched these in months. I think losing all those previous entries when my computer died stopped my momentum. I know several people have them all stored, but I just haven't got back into doing this again.
32. Write an essay about something important to me.
Done. Not a great essay. Not well researched. But I've sounded off on some controversial subjects despite potential black balls. So, while I didn't do quite what I had in mind, I feel I accomplished this.
33. Finish Step 9. (Long story - maybe someday I'll get into it.)
Didn't touch it. All year. I need to get over my fears and just stand up and say what I feel. So much good has come out of that which I have already done in regards to this. I also need to share the story but that's another day and a lot more typing.
FINAL ANALYSIS:
If my counting is accurate (and please remember: I'm tired with a headache), I accomplished 20 out of 33. Not bad. With bonus points I figure it's a perfect score. :)
In the end though I am struck by a few things. #1 (as previously mentioned), I never did talk about this list with God. I wonder how different the list would have been if I had. #2, I'm trying to work on accepting my best as good enough and realizing that perfection is not necessary and striving for perfection can actually ruin some of my efforts and sacrifices. #3, there are so many miracles that were accomplished that are not on this list: we moved; our house may be selling; I survived six months without Robert; and I have learned a great deal about myself, God and our relationship. All things considered, I think my year of miracles was just that.
Because in the end, it's a year of miracles because 33 was Jesus' year of miracles and if I've improved my relationship with Him, then that's the best miracle of all. (Corny, I know, but so true. And please remember, screaming headache and sooo tired!)
But, first, let's recap:
1. Read my scriptures, cover to cover, book to book.
I didn't do this. I didn't come close to doing this. I may never do this in a year in my entire life. But I have had good jags of dedicated reading (a month or two at a time) and I'm optimistic about new habits being formed. Either way, I felt an increased love for the scriptures and a greater desire to read them
2. Run a mile in less than 10 minutes. This may have to be reduced to just running a mile.
19. Be able to use 10, 12 and 15 pound weights for weight lifting workouts.
Ha. Haha. Hahahahahahahahaha. Okay. Got that out of my system. So...yeah, no, this didn't happen either. It's funny too because these were the goals I really wanted (top of the list) and nothing happened. Perhaps God's list doesn't match mine? But I have been going for walks. I won't even scratch this one as I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to be going for walks; the 6:30am wake up calls are killing me.
I'm not quite sure if I succeeded at this, I still make poor choices on the things that come out of my mouth, but I am much more aware of what I'm saying and when I've misspoken. I'm counting that as an advancement in this area.
I've made online friends, I've been better at retaining friends I've made in the past and I've become closer with some people who were just acquaintances. Additionally, I have been making stronger efforts to step up to others and to leave my comfort zone.
5. Befriend someone I don't like. I hear my therapist cautioning that there could be a good and healthy reason that I don't like them and maybe it's better they weren't really my "friend."
I don't think that I did this. I'm learning how to set boundaries and be friendly to those who have burnt me while still being cautious. But I am learning that I don't have to be and I cannot be friends with everyone. I think I'll cross this off anyway.....
I've learned that I already have quite the spirit of giving and tend to give money to all sorts of causes without even thinking about it - supporting my kids in their schools, donating money at the grocery stores, buying things from school groups, my church donations, etc. I've also learned that it's very hard to pick one thing to support as there are so many in need and so many worthy causes.
11. Call Pacific University and discuss MEd program.
12. Call UofO and discuss MEd programs.
God essentially nullified these with His one miracle list. Next time, remind me to plug my computer into His blackberry and sync them up before attempting this. Although I did learn that right now I want a MAT (MA in Teaching) and not a MEd (Masters of Eduction) as the first is to get my teaching certificate and the 2nd is for people who have already been teaching. See? I did start the ball rolling....
I'm checking this one off. While we did follow through a few times this year, we didn't ever have a regular date night or even something written on the calendar proclaiming DATE NIGHT! However, I have learned though that we do spend of lot of time together as is and that working on a relationship takes work, time and an effort to make it a priority. And I think we hit the dating thing enough months (especially with all the absentee time) to count.
13. Spend 1/2 hr. one on one with each of my kids weekly but I'll settle for monthly.
Um.....yeah....no. This one was a spectacular failure. May I say, for the record even, that I am a horrible, HORRIBLE single mother. I'm just starting to recoup and enjoy my kids again after living for months in survival mode.
14. Talk to my MIL about how much I appreciate her sacrifices regarding my wedding. (Robert was the only member in his family, we were married in the Seattle Temple - you do the math.)
This one is still very much in my heart and my mind. I haven't had a chance to talk with her, fact to face, and I'm not sure it's appropriate over the phone or in a letter.
Done and done. Last year and this and August is looking hopeful too!
17. Attend a temple initiatory session. Do we call it a session? Oh well, there it is.
And I get bonus points too as I did both at least a 2nd time (I don't think I managed a third). So, I'm figuring that all my bonus points can cover the miracles that didn't occur! ;)
18. Write 33 Thank You notes or "love letters" (not romantic ones but "I think you are super fabulous" kind of love letters) to individuals who have touched my life. Preferably hand-written.
I only ever managed one or two and there are some people to whom I need to send these letters. Again, this will be a good reminder.
20. Monthly love notes to my children and husband. Maybe just daily one liners. Still flexible on this.
I did the one liners for a few weeks and the family really loved them. I need to start them again because they really did help. However, I don't think I can cross this off as I didn't even do enough to get it more on my radar.
I know right? After a few agonizing weeks in Alaska, I'm beginning to feel alive and hopeful again. I have loved being able to see and talk to my dad and Aunt Judy on a regular basis. I have loved living with Robert again. And even Alaska is starting to seep back into my bones and heart. Overall, these last couple of weeks I have really felt at peace and hopeful and comfortable behind my rose colored glasses.
22. Make matching dresses for me and Lulu while she's still young enough to think it's cool instead of a reason to vomit.
Yeah.....no. And I think she may have reached the vomitting age - not sure - I'll have to ask.
23. Scrapbook 1 year of photos. Too ambitious? Maybe, one month of photos. Whatever. I just need to scrapbook a few more pages.
I haven't scrapbooked in forever! But I do know where all my supplies are (amazing since they're still in boxes in our shipping containers). So, can I half scratch this one? No? Yes?
Done. Now if only I'd done it BEFORE the crash last spring!
Done!!
27. Keep my bedroom dresser clean for one week.
28. Take a family picture (sans DH) in front of the Mendenhall Glacier.
Done, done, did. WOO HOO! I like this part of the list.
29. Come to grips with the imminence of death and see it as a blessing rather than a curse. Meaning, stop fretting that everyone I love is going to die and leave me but rejoice in having them now.
Yeah, I'm still not there. I don't know if I'll ever be but I believe I'm beginning to catch glimpses of such a vision. Mostly I've learned that mortality sucks and involves me crying. A lot.
30. Begin to like my emotions. Mmmm...I'd just be happy to have the desire to plant this seed.
See #29.
31. Finish typing up my mom's journals. (I'm sure everyone will be happy to begin receiving entries again on a regular basis.)
No. I haven't touched these in months. I think losing all those previous entries when my computer died stopped my momentum. I know several people have them all stored, but I just haven't got back into doing this again.
Done. Not a great essay. Not well researched. But I've sounded off on some controversial subjects despite potential black balls. So, while I didn't do quite what I had in mind, I feel I accomplished this.
33. Finish Step 9. (Long story - maybe someday I'll get into it.)
Didn't touch it. All year. I need to get over my fears and just stand up and say what I feel. So much good has come out of that which I have already done in regards to this. I also need to share the story but that's another day and a lot more typing.
FINAL ANALYSIS:
If my counting is accurate (and please remember: I'm tired with a headache), I accomplished 20 out of 33. Not bad. With bonus points I figure it's a perfect score. :)
In the end though I am struck by a few things. #1 (as previously mentioned), I never did talk about this list with God. I wonder how different the list would have been if I had. #2, I'm trying to work on accepting my best as good enough and realizing that perfection is not necessary and striving for perfection can actually ruin some of my efforts and sacrifices. #3, there are so many miracles that were accomplished that are not on this list: we moved; our house may be selling; I survived six months without Robert; and I have learned a great deal about myself, God and our relationship. All things considered, I think my year of miracles was just that.
Because in the end, it's a year of miracles because 33 was Jesus' year of miracles and if I've improved my relationship with Him, then that's the best miracle of all. (Corny, I know, but so true. And please remember, screaming headache and sooo tired!)
A Word on Politics
I normally keep to myself about my political beliefs. Oh sure, my nearest and dearest have heard my monologues from time to time (read: frequently) but I typically keep quiet when in public or around others who don’t share my viewpoint so as to keep friends and keep the peace.
But, this is my blog, damn it, and I’ll say what I want.
I’m conservative. Shocking I’m sure. I try and avoid labels; I’m registered undeclared and usually have anxiety attacks when I think of calling myself Democrat or Republican. But I am, overall, conservative.
On most issues I vacillate around in the middle and take a great deal of time to make my mind up. If I’m not required to vote on the issue, I may never make my mind up. I am too sympathetic to both sides of the argument and agree that generally both sides have valid points; how then do I discount one and side with the other?
Even on this last presidential election (should that be capitalized?), I found myself going back and forth, back and forth, unsure where to hang my hat. I finally made a decision not based on the candidates themselves or on any of the issues and solutions they were proposing but on a balance of power; Democrats would control the Congress, then I would vote for a Republic Executive Branch and thus hope that any decisions actually made and passed would have the approval of both parties.
Things just didn’t turn out that way.
Obama won. I was excited about the fact that we now have our first African-American President. How could I not be? It’s a huge advance from where we were as a society 50 years ago. And I was cautiously optimistic about this new administration with its matching Congressional shoes. Maybe good things would be done….
That was about six months ago and I must say that I’m not impressed. I’m concerned about the amount of money that the Federal government is spending; where are all these billions and trillions of dollars coming from? Do I want to know? What are we passing on to our children? A bankrupt future? I was surprised to see Congress and the President pass these huge stimulation and bailout plans. I realize that the economy had tanked (believe me, I’ve been trying to sell my house – I feel the pain) and everyone was furiously trying to come up with an idea to keep everything from slipping into a depression (I’m in no hurry to relive the 1930’s). But it seems so counterintuitive to me to get out of a financial crisis by spending money you don’t have.
But my biggest frustration is the proposed health care plan. I’ve never been a supporter off a national health care plan (I’ve never met a Canadian who really liked it and I wonder if my mother would have gotten the health care she did if medical care had been nationalized at the time) but I’m also frustrated by the Democrats willingness to push this new plan through with or without Republican support. Before the Revolution from England, the Continental Congress used a general majority rule as we currently do. But for the decision to revolt and declare our independence, a unanimous vote was required. I’m not thinking that we need a unanimous vote to approve the new healthcare plan but this is a monumental change to the way our government works and as such shouldn't it require more than a simple majority vote? Shouldn’t this plan be examined and brainstormed with all possibilities exhausted and examined before the decision is made? It seems to be happening so quickly with such little thought and respect of the opposition, realizing that the opposition represents real people who support those senators.
And again I wonder, where will all this money come from? From my understanding, (feel free to correct me if I'm wrong) nationalizing health care will not change the price of medical but will simply shift who is picking up the tab. Health care is expensive. How can we as a nation really afford to give top notch care to every single individual in the country? Will the aged be cared for as well? What about the desperately sick? Obama has also promised, both while campaigning and even currently, that insuring the currently uninsured will be paid for without raising taxes on 95% of Americans. Really? I'm thinking that taxing only 5% of Americans won't be enough to pay the tab. Which then makes me worry about how much taxes will be raised on businesses. As a small business owner, I'm concerned on how much we'll be asked to pay in taxes and if our business can survive the increases?
I have so many questions and none of them seem to be getting addressed. I’m not sure where to ask these questions to get the answers. I also believe that none of this is insurmountable but it means working together and I have felt during the last administration, and in the current one, a rendering of the American identity. Do we even have one anymore? Do we have anything that holds us as a nation together in one cohesive unit? That’s my greatest worry because if we continue to turn on each other like rabid dogs, all we’ll get is a continued spread of the disease and a continued descent into madness.
Can you see why I generally don’t discuss politics?
But, this is my blog, damn it, and I’ll say what I want.
I’m conservative. Shocking I’m sure. I try and avoid labels; I’m registered undeclared and usually have anxiety attacks when I think of calling myself Democrat or Republican. But I am, overall, conservative.
On most issues I vacillate around in the middle and take a great deal of time to make my mind up. If I’m not required to vote on the issue, I may never make my mind up. I am too sympathetic to both sides of the argument and agree that generally both sides have valid points; how then do I discount one and side with the other?
Even on this last presidential election (should that be capitalized?), I found myself going back and forth, back and forth, unsure where to hang my hat. I finally made a decision not based on the candidates themselves or on any of the issues and solutions they were proposing but on a balance of power; Democrats would control the Congress, then I would vote for a Republic Executive Branch and thus hope that any decisions actually made and passed would have the approval of both parties.
Things just didn’t turn out that way.
Obama won. I was excited about the fact that we now have our first African-American President. How could I not be? It’s a huge advance from where we were as a society 50 years ago. And I was cautiously optimistic about this new administration with its matching Congressional shoes. Maybe good things would be done….
That was about six months ago and I must say that I’m not impressed. I’m concerned about the amount of money that the Federal government is spending; where are all these billions and trillions of dollars coming from? Do I want to know? What are we passing on to our children? A bankrupt future? I was surprised to see Congress and the President pass these huge stimulation and bailout plans. I realize that the economy had tanked (believe me, I’ve been trying to sell my house – I feel the pain) and everyone was furiously trying to come up with an idea to keep everything from slipping into a depression (I’m in no hurry to relive the 1930’s). But it seems so counterintuitive to me to get out of a financial crisis by spending money you don’t have.
But my biggest frustration is the proposed health care plan. I’ve never been a supporter off a national health care plan (I’ve never met a Canadian who really liked it and I wonder if my mother would have gotten the health care she did if medical care had been nationalized at the time) but I’m also frustrated by the Democrats willingness to push this new plan through with or without Republican support. Before the Revolution from England, the Continental Congress used a general majority rule as we currently do. But for the decision to revolt and declare our independence, a unanimous vote was required. I’m not thinking that we need a unanimous vote to approve the new healthcare plan but this is a monumental change to the way our government works and as such shouldn't it require more than a simple majority vote? Shouldn’t this plan be examined and brainstormed with all possibilities exhausted and examined before the decision is made? It seems to be happening so quickly with such little thought and respect of the opposition, realizing that the opposition represents real people who support those senators.
And again I wonder, where will all this money come from? From my understanding, (feel free to correct me if I'm wrong) nationalizing health care will not change the price of medical but will simply shift who is picking up the tab. Health care is expensive. How can we as a nation really afford to give top notch care to every single individual in the country? Will the aged be cared for as well? What about the desperately sick? Obama has also promised, both while campaigning and even currently, that insuring the currently uninsured will be paid for without raising taxes on 95% of Americans. Really? I'm thinking that taxing only 5% of Americans won't be enough to pay the tab. Which then makes me worry about how much taxes will be raised on businesses. As a small business owner, I'm concerned on how much we'll be asked to pay in taxes and if our business can survive the increases?
I have so many questions and none of them seem to be getting addressed. I’m not sure where to ask these questions to get the answers. I also believe that none of this is insurmountable but it means working together and I have felt during the last administration, and in the current one, a rendering of the American identity. Do we even have one anymore? Do we have anything that holds us as a nation together in one cohesive unit? That’s my greatest worry because if we continue to turn on each other like rabid dogs, all we’ll get is a continued spread of the disease and a continued descent into madness.
Can you see why I generally don’t discuss politics?
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Older Than Jesus
It's official. Today I'm 34 and therefore older than Jesus. I don't mean to sound irreverent but that's what I've been thinking all week and to tell you the truth, I feel a little odd. I feel as though I've lived longer than I should and that I'm receiving a gift of life that the Savior never got.
Perhaps it's this feeling of life as a gift that has been coloring my day because it has been wonderful! And it's only 11am here.
I woke up at 6:28am (I know, not quite so wonderful) to the sound of a text on my cell phone. My BFF sent me a note (Happy Birthday squishy) which so made my morning. I set off with Carbon, our black lab, for a walk on Sandy Beach (we're terribly original with our names here) and had a nice chat with Lizzie on the phone.
I met my aunt (my mom's sister) at the beach. We've been walking together in the mornings for the last week and a half. Today was the last day we could go together as she's a teacher and starts work on Monday and leaves today for a weekend away. I have loved our walks - it's a bit like having my mom back. She too feels the loss of my mother. We have spent hours talking about family - current and ancestoral, the gospel, politics and life. We have talked about nothing. We have watched all the wildlife on the beach (seagulls, bald eagles, ravens and blue herons, jellyfish and dead chum salmon) and picked out all their footprints. We have seen mining relics and wondered at the little odd things one finds here and there on a beach.
It has been wonderful.
Upon arriving back home, I got to crawl back into my pjs and into bed and was then showered with gifts.
It's funny you know. I've heard about the 5 love languages and always paused to think about what my love language was and could never figure it out. It came to me today: it's receiving gifts. It's a bit of a heart shocker because I have always prided myself on not being materialistic but I feel loved by receiving gifts. I will say, though, that it's not a matter of money but of thought. I love it when someone brings me something that I have desperately wanted or speaks to my heart or fits me; I love to see the thought and time that someone has poured into a gift for me.
This morning my husband gave me the most perfect card I have received (I'll try and post it sometime) and then gave me a peridot (my birthstone) ring. It's perfect as I lost my ring years ago when I put it in a "safe place" while I was prego with Lulu and I have wanted a ring on my finger again. It's also perfect because it's just a peridot and so while I know he spent some money on me, I rejoice in the fact that we will not be selling our kids to pay for it.
The kids came in with breakfast in bed: scrambled eggs, milk and two pieces of toast with marionberry jam. They all had cards and presents. Lulu's was a bath scrubby that could reach my back, Quinn's was a pink (I know - I'm such a girl!) water bottle with a built in straw that hides when I twist the lid and a clip so I can take it walking and Rhys' was a box of DARK chocolate cherry cordials. It felt so good to know that they each hit on something I needed - my back is always itchy and needs to be scrubbed, I LOVE to drink water all the time especially on the go and I LOVE dark chocolate.e
Afterwards I took a hot shower which used to be one of my favorite things but over the last few months has become more of a chore than anything else. I even (it's true) have taken to only showering every other day and throwing my hair in a pony tail. (Gasp!) I know. But today I reveled in the pleasure of hot water running down my spine and through my hair. I reveled in the feeling of clean skin.
My SIL Mia brought me my birthday cake (devil's food cake with chocolate chips baked in and homemade chocolate frosting - Y.U.M.M.Y!!) and lots of birthday love. My SIL Julie called me from Oregon and we had a lovely chat.
And the day is still young.
You know those days that are just so delicious that you feel happiness, joy and goodness just oozing out of your pores? This is one of those days for me. And I'm lucky enough that it also just so happens to be my birthday.
So, thank you to all my loved ones who have sent me birthday presents, wishes, prayers, love and thoughts.
And thank you God for giving me life and more time on earth than Jesus.
Friday, July 31, 2009
The Eyes Have It
Last night I was sitting around the table with my kids last night and I began to notice that they all have the same odd eye color - grey/green/yellow/blue/what the hell?
I took pictures to prove it.
Whaddya think?
I also think that I'm to blame for their weird color....could just be me.....
I took pictures to prove it.
Whaddya think?I also think that I'm to blame for their weird color....could just be me.....
Faces and Bodies
I was at the beach yesterday (it was a scorching 80 degrees) with my kids. As I strolled up the beach to use the facilities, I glanced around me and pondered (as I am wont to do - seriously, someday I'd like to just have quiet time when my brain wasn't thinking anything; is that possible as a woman? Or is that called "sleep?"). I saw all these people from infants to the elderly in all different states of dress (although the wee children were the only ones who were completely naked) and they all looked beautiful: young girls with no curves; middle aged women with curves where there shouldn't have been any; chubby prepubescent boys getting ready to shoot up; grown men with muscles or beer bellies; and a few hot chicks in bikinis (yes, even in Alaska they are there at the beach, although decidedly less than Waikiki I'm sure).
My point, and I do have one, is that all these people looked wonderful too me. I didn't stop and criticize any of their shapes and faces; I didn't wonder, "Holy Hannah! Should she really be wearing that?!" And yet...and yet, when I look in my own mirror I see my stretchmarked belly that still looks like I have a nine month old baby inside. I see my chubby thighs through which no daylight can be seen. I see all my scars and my Relief Society arms. I see my zits and bad skin, my stretchmarked breasts with enormous (too big in my opinion) aureoles. I see my rosy cheeks that are always too big, regardless of my weight. I can't see my neck because it's short to begin with and is currently hidden by at least two chins. I see my sloping shoulders and my burns from the beach yesterday, my swollen hands that have too many lines and look too short and stubby when I wear rings or nail polish. I see my thin lips and my squinty eyes. I see my cellulite dimpled butt.
And I sigh.
I'm too fat, too short, not pretty enough, not this enough, too much that.
Why is it that I can look at the varied masses of humanity and see their individual beauty and then I look at myself and see nothing but flaws?
I think too that this applies to more than my body image; it applies as well to my vision of my inner self. I see all the strengths in others and nothing but my weakness.
I am determined to change this (not that I think I'm losing weight anytime soon). But I'm beautiful. I'm important. I'm loved.
And I will wear my swimsuit on the beach without a cover-up, damnit!
My point, and I do have one, is that all these people looked wonderful too me. I didn't stop and criticize any of their shapes and faces; I didn't wonder, "Holy Hannah! Should she really be wearing that?!" And yet...and yet, when I look in my own mirror I see my stretchmarked belly that still looks like I have a nine month old baby inside. I see my chubby thighs through which no daylight can be seen. I see all my scars and my Relief Society arms. I see my zits and bad skin, my stretchmarked breasts with enormous (too big in my opinion) aureoles. I see my rosy cheeks that are always too big, regardless of my weight. I can't see my neck because it's short to begin with and is currently hidden by at least two chins. I see my sloping shoulders and my burns from the beach yesterday, my swollen hands that have too many lines and look too short and stubby when I wear rings or nail polish. I see my thin lips and my squinty eyes. I see my cellulite dimpled butt.
And I sigh.
I'm too fat, too short, not pretty enough, not this enough, too much that.
Why is it that I can look at the varied masses of humanity and see their individual beauty and then I look at myself and see nothing but flaws?
I think too that this applies to more than my body image; it applies as well to my vision of my inner self. I see all the strengths in others and nothing but my weakness.
I am determined to change this (not that I think I'm losing weight anytime soon). But I'm beautiful. I'm important. I'm loved.
And I will wear my swimsuit on the beach without a cover-up, damnit!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The Arm of God
It's odd to me, surely one of those God things, how when I'm really struggling with something, everything in my life seems to start coalescing around that issue.
Lately, shocking I know, I've been struggling with God and trials and this move to Alaska (though I am dearly grateful not to be in 100+ degree weather). The last two weeks our Gospel Doctrine lessons have been about trials and the comfort/chastisement God gives during these times.
I have been trying to "Let go and let God," for some time; usually, I snatch it back as soon as I can pray, "Dear Father...." While I've learned over the years that trusting in the arm of flesh, even my own (perhaps especially my own), leads to nothing but disappointment, I still want a fleshy arm of comfort. I know that God offers comfort and I do receive that when I pray but there is still, at times, the hollow emptiness of no flesh nearby. While I frequently imagine Him rocking me and holding me, it is often hard to receive the comfort from Him that I am used to receiving from my friends. However, it seems that the older I get, the less I am able to get the comfort I need from my friends. I know that this needs to come from God Himself but I am unsure as to how to bridge that gap....
Does this make any sense?
Lately, shocking I know, I've been struggling with God and trials and this move to Alaska (though I am dearly grateful not to be in 100+ degree weather). The last two weeks our Gospel Doctrine lessons have been about trials and the comfort/chastisement God gives during these times.
I have been trying to "Let go and let God," for some time; usually, I snatch it back as soon as I can pray, "Dear Father...." While I've learned over the years that trusting in the arm of flesh, even my own (perhaps especially my own), leads to nothing but disappointment, I still want a fleshy arm of comfort. I know that God offers comfort and I do receive that when I pray but there is still, at times, the hollow emptiness of no flesh nearby. While I frequently imagine Him rocking me and holding me, it is often hard to receive the comfort from Him that I am used to receiving from my friends. However, it seems that the older I get, the less I am able to get the comfort I need from my friends. I know that this needs to come from God Himself but I am unsure as to how to bridge that gap....
Does this make any sense?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The Move and Our Current Situation
I woke up at 4:30am on the morning of the 6th to pack out last few items (those minor things like sleeping bags, my bed -you didn't think I would sleep on the floor did you?! - and our telephone). Of course, I'm not good at getting up at 4:30am so I woke up again at 4:40am. And 4:50am. And 5:00am. At which point I actually managed to get out of bed.
The boys left at 7am in a 26' U-haul truck with a 6'x12' trailer attached. I tried to go back to sleep but all I had was carpeted flooring, Lulu's pillow and her baby blanket. I wasn't tired enough for the set to work. Yet.
The drive went well but Robert had problems connecting with the movers at the dock in Seattle. Turns out they were sitting a few yards away from each other not knowing with whom they were supposed connect with. I had to call the movers' main office to figure everything out, meanwhile, all that time got wasted (about 1/2 hour) and we discovered that not only did we have to pay for the 4 hours worth of work but we have to pay for their drive time - another hour. Oh well, at this point, thousands of dollars spent on this *&#@$ move, what's another $100?
The boys barely got everything loaded in our containers on time - the place closed at 5pm and Robert put the last lock on at 5:05pm. Quinn worked his little tushy off hefting boxes that weighed as much as him. Rhys helped out too, just a bit less enthusiastically.
Meanwhile, Lulu and I cleaned house with the help of some dear friends, went to lunch with Pam who then took Lulu back to her house for one last play date with Becky while I ran around doing some errands and saying two last good byes and then it was time to go; the day had passed much more quickly than expected (particularly since I was cleaning and packing for most of the day).
My SIL Julie drove me to the airport. Would you believe that I managed all of this without crying? (I know. I am impressed too. Perhaps I should add this to my "Year of Miracles" list?)
I got to the ticket counter to discover that both our bags (one suitcase with clothes and a cooler with meat) were slightly overweight; the agent let it slide. However, we did have a third bag to check - some raspberry and rhubarb starts Robert picked for our Alaskan neighbor which were all packed in a styrofoam box. Turns out that styrofoam is not an acceptable container for checking goods on the airlines, something about being packed inappropriately. I totally felt like a hobo traveler:
"Do you have a knife or some scissors so I can open the container?" (It was sealed with hot pink duct tape because that's the only duct tape Safeway had, believe it or not. And of course, I didn't have any such items on my person as I would then be labeled, "DANGEROUS!!!")
"Oh, yeah, sure."
"Umm....do you have a bag that I can put the plants in?" (Rob had placed them in wet dirt and there was muddy water every where inside the styrofoam box.)
"Well, we only have really big bags..."
"Oh, that's okay."
She got me one of those really thick, really big plastic bags they use to wrap around car seats and other oddly shaped items.
I rolled the bag down do about half size, threw the starts in the back, repacked Lulu's and my carry-ons (which were by now HEAVY - it's a wonder the poor girl didn't fall over backwards when loaded up) and was left with an empty styrofoam container.
"Umm....can you throw this away for me?"
"Sure."
She took the container and another ticket agent looked at her with wide eyes, "You're not accepting that for loading are you?" Apparently she was quite concerned.
On the upside, the cat, due to a glitch in the computer, was only $86.73 instead of the $100 fee for taking her on the plane.
By the way, in order to get a cat through security, you have to take them out of her container, place the container on the belt to go throw the x-ray scanner and carry the cat through the metal detector. It's a good thing she doesn't have a metal plate or something in her skull. Between our carry-ons, the cat, my laptop and our shoes and coats we used about 6-7 of those plastic bins....I'm very grateful that there wasn't anyone in line behind us at the time as I'm sure that internally, they would have been calling us a lot of names.
The plane ride to Seattle went very smoothly. Jenny did not meow at all. In fact, as long as we ignored her, she would just lie there. It was rather surprising. (She's the chattiest cat I've ever met. She even caused me to google "de-meowing a cat.") Lulu was extraordinarily talkative. Can't imagine where she gets that from.... And I was tired. Where's the carpeted patch, pillow and baby blanket when you need them?
We hooked up with the boys at Sea-Tac. I was really hoping they would meet us at our arrival gate and help us lug everything to the next gate. No dice. I ended up hauling everything across the terminal (we arrived in the C concourse and had to walk to the D concourse) because Lulu was done hauling anything except her blanky and pillow. Picture it: backpack with raspberry plants poking out the top on my back; a laptop bag packed to the gills with computer and paper work on one shoulder; a live cat in her carrier on my other shoulder; a pink-plaid back pack with heavy items such as my camera, cat food and Lulu's precious items in my hand or on my forearm; and my coat dangling from my backpack straps. Not. fun. But I'm sure we drew a few stares.
We arrived at the next gate and, as I couldn't see Robert, I assumed he wasn't there yet and collapsed in the nearest chairs. Once I was sitting down and had unloaded all my baggage, Quinn comes running over, "Mom! We're over here."
"Dear Lord," I prayed....
The ride to Juneau went well. I was sitting by myself in an aisle, the boys were behind me in the aisle and middle seat sitting next to a woman whose shoes Lulu just adored and Robert and Lulu were sitting in a row of three to themselves as the third person had gotten up and moved to give them more space.
Lulu fell asleep, hard, in-flight and, of course, peed the seat. This time we cleaned up the mess ourselves and didn't say anything to the flight attendants. Coincidentally, there were no 30 min. "mechanical delays" for the next flight.
The cat didn't start meowing until we were standing ready to get off and which point all my fellow passengers began wondering, "Is there a cat?" "That sounds like a cat?" "Where's that noise coming from?" Turns out the gentleman in the seat in front of us whom Jenny was sitting under is terribly allergic to cats. Of course, he complained. Of course, I'm thought, "Dude, you weathered the flight without complaint and had no idea the cat was there, why start griping now?" And of course, all I said was, "Mmmm..." with a polite smile.
The short story: we arrived safe and sound with everyone and all limbs accounted for.
Our current situation:
Our Oregon house has not sold and we extended our contract with the realtor for two extra months, meaning that we can't rent it out until October. As we're still paying the mortgage on that house and the cost of living is so much higher (seriously! I can't look at prices when I grocery shop because I wouldn't buy ANYTHING!), we will be living with my dad indefinitely. I'm hoping we'll have our own place by next spring or fall at the latest but who knows?
Living with my dad has been pretty easy. He's mellow and lovely and easy to get along with. The kids have been fairly well behaved and I'm trying to whip them back into shape after 6 months of my tired single parenting (I SUCK as a single parent; if they whined long enough and hard enough, I would give them almost anything they wanted!).
The kids are almost daily at their cousin Ian's house (he lives less than a mile away and they can walk up by themselves). The shop is busy, busy, busy and I've already had lots of salmon (which for me is a good thing). So, overall it's good. I miss everyone from Oregon and I miss having a place of my own, but I'm trying to be patient (read: trying not to cry on a daily or hourly basis) and to look for the good here. It's all surreal for me and I feel like I'm just on summer vacation and not living here yet, but I'm sure that will change as I get to know people here and settle in.
So until then, I will keep my rose colored glasses firmly in place and believe that I am on a lovely cruise ship ride as opposed to my perspective which is that we are on the garbage barge headed to Staten Island.
The boys left at 7am in a 26' U-haul truck with a 6'x12' trailer attached. I tried to go back to sleep but all I had was carpeted flooring, Lulu's pillow and her baby blanket. I wasn't tired enough for the set to work. Yet.
The drive went well but Robert had problems connecting with the movers at the dock in Seattle. Turns out they were sitting a few yards away from each other not knowing with whom they were supposed connect with. I had to call the movers' main office to figure everything out, meanwhile, all that time got wasted (about 1/2 hour) and we discovered that not only did we have to pay for the 4 hours worth of work but we have to pay for their drive time - another hour. Oh well, at this point, thousands of dollars spent on this *&#@$ move, what's another $100?
The boys barely got everything loaded in our containers on time - the place closed at 5pm and Robert put the last lock on at 5:05pm. Quinn worked his little tushy off hefting boxes that weighed as much as him. Rhys helped out too, just a bit less enthusiastically.
Meanwhile, Lulu and I cleaned house with the help of some dear friends, went to lunch with Pam who then took Lulu back to her house for one last play date with Becky while I ran around doing some errands and saying two last good byes and then it was time to go; the day had passed much more quickly than expected (particularly since I was cleaning and packing for most of the day).
My SIL Julie drove me to the airport. Would you believe that I managed all of this without crying? (I know. I am impressed too. Perhaps I should add this to my "Year of Miracles" list?)
I got to the ticket counter to discover that both our bags (one suitcase with clothes and a cooler with meat) were slightly overweight; the agent let it slide. However, we did have a third bag to check - some raspberry and rhubarb starts Robert picked for our Alaskan neighbor which were all packed in a styrofoam box. Turns out that styrofoam is not an acceptable container for checking goods on the airlines, something about being packed inappropriately. I totally felt like a hobo traveler:
"Do you have a knife or some scissors so I can open the container?" (It was sealed with hot pink duct tape because that's the only duct tape Safeway had, believe it or not. And of course, I didn't have any such items on my person as I would then be labeled, "DANGEROUS!!!")
"Oh, yeah, sure."
"Umm....do you have a bag that I can put the plants in?" (Rob had placed them in wet dirt and there was muddy water every where inside the styrofoam box.)
"Well, we only have really big bags..."
"Oh, that's okay."
She got me one of those really thick, really big plastic bags they use to wrap around car seats and other oddly shaped items.
I rolled the bag down do about half size, threw the starts in the back, repacked Lulu's and my carry-ons (which were by now HEAVY - it's a wonder the poor girl didn't fall over backwards when loaded up) and was left with an empty styrofoam container.
"Umm....can you throw this away for me?"
"Sure."
She took the container and another ticket agent looked at her with wide eyes, "You're not accepting that for loading are you?" Apparently she was quite concerned.
On the upside, the cat, due to a glitch in the computer, was only $86.73 instead of the $100 fee for taking her on the plane.
By the way, in order to get a cat through security, you have to take them out of her container, place the container on the belt to go throw the x-ray scanner and carry the cat through the metal detector. It's a good thing she doesn't have a metal plate or something in her skull. Between our carry-ons, the cat, my laptop and our shoes and coats we used about 6-7 of those plastic bins....I'm very grateful that there wasn't anyone in line behind us at the time as I'm sure that internally, they would have been calling us a lot of names.
The plane ride to Seattle went very smoothly. Jenny did not meow at all. In fact, as long as we ignored her, she would just lie there. It was rather surprising. (She's the chattiest cat I've ever met. She even caused me to google "de-meowing a cat.") Lulu was extraordinarily talkative. Can't imagine where she gets that from.... And I was tired. Where's the carpeted patch, pillow and baby blanket when you need them?
We hooked up with the boys at Sea-Tac. I was really hoping they would meet us at our arrival gate and help us lug everything to the next gate. No dice. I ended up hauling everything across the terminal (we arrived in the C concourse and had to walk to the D concourse) because Lulu was done hauling anything except her blanky and pillow. Picture it: backpack with raspberry plants poking out the top on my back; a laptop bag packed to the gills with computer and paper work on one shoulder; a live cat in her carrier on my other shoulder; a pink-plaid back pack with heavy items such as my camera, cat food and Lulu's precious items in my hand or on my forearm; and my coat dangling from my backpack straps. Not. fun. But I'm sure we drew a few stares.
We arrived at the next gate and, as I couldn't see Robert, I assumed he wasn't there yet and collapsed in the nearest chairs. Once I was sitting down and had unloaded all my baggage, Quinn comes running over, "Mom! We're over here."
"Dear Lord," I prayed....
The ride to Juneau went well. I was sitting by myself in an aisle, the boys were behind me in the aisle and middle seat sitting next to a woman whose shoes Lulu just adored and Robert and Lulu were sitting in a row of three to themselves as the third person had gotten up and moved to give them more space.
Lulu fell asleep, hard, in-flight and, of course, peed the seat. This time we cleaned up the mess ourselves and didn't say anything to the flight attendants. Coincidentally, there were no 30 min. "mechanical delays" for the next flight.
The cat didn't start meowing until we were standing ready to get off and which point all my fellow passengers began wondering, "Is there a cat?" "That sounds like a cat?" "Where's that noise coming from?" Turns out the gentleman in the seat in front of us whom Jenny was sitting under is terribly allergic to cats. Of course, he complained. Of course, I'm thought, "Dude, you weathered the flight without complaint and had no idea the cat was there, why start griping now?" And of course, all I said was, "Mmmm..." with a polite smile.
The short story: we arrived safe and sound with everyone and all limbs accounted for.
Our current situation:
Our Oregon house has not sold and we extended our contract with the realtor for two extra months, meaning that we can't rent it out until October. As we're still paying the mortgage on that house and the cost of living is so much higher (seriously! I can't look at prices when I grocery shop because I wouldn't buy ANYTHING!), we will be living with my dad indefinitely. I'm hoping we'll have our own place by next spring or fall at the latest but who knows?
Living with my dad has been pretty easy. He's mellow and lovely and easy to get along with. The kids have been fairly well behaved and I'm trying to whip them back into shape after 6 months of my tired single parenting (I SUCK as a single parent; if they whined long enough and hard enough, I would give them almost anything they wanted!).
The kids are almost daily at their cousin Ian's house (he lives less than a mile away and they can walk up by themselves). The shop is busy, busy, busy and I've already had lots of salmon (which for me is a good thing). So, overall it's good. I miss everyone from Oregon and I miss having a place of my own, but I'm trying to be patient (read: trying not to cry on a daily or hourly basis) and to look for the good here. It's all surreal for me and I feel like I'm just on summer vacation and not living here yet, but I'm sure that will change as I get to know people here and settle in.
So until then, I will keep my rose colored glasses firmly in place and believe that I am on a lovely cruise ship ride as opposed to my perspective which is that we are on the garbage barge headed to Staten Island.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Business Cards
The shop has not had new business cards since I was a wee child. The card is pure white with black lettering and the name is written in cursive, not quite appropriate, in my mind, for a business based in boat, outboards and repair work. It also bear the name of my parents, which could pose a problem for someone calling and looking for Janet.
This morning I began to look online for some business card designs.
I'm thinking that for a business with a predominately male clientele that this business card would be a sure success; they may not quite know what it is we do, but they'd probably pop in just to find out.
P.S. Don't forget to click on the link for the "back side" view.
P.P.S. Who would actually use these cards? I didn't think people in that kind of profession would need business cards....
This morning I began to look online for some business card designs.
I'm thinking that for a business with a predominately male clientele that this business card would be a sure success; they may not quite know what it is we do, but they'd probably pop in just to find out.
P.S. Don't forget to click on the link for the "back side" view.
P.P.S. Who would actually use these cards? I didn't think people in that kind of profession would need business cards....
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Forbidden Fruit
Since I poured out my agony online, I have been feeling a bit better. But I'm still crying all the time. In fact tonight, as I lie down to sleep - my daughter curled up on the other end of my king bed, I started sobbing. I can't pray and not cry. It's the mixture of despair and "Why God?" and acceptance, however grudgingly rendered.
At the same time, I can't get rid of the thought, "What is the point to this life?" I believe that a huge reason for our human existence is to love other people with our whole hearts, selflessly, as God loves us. But that love is inextricably interwoven with pain and hurt and sorrow and grief. To which my glass-half-empty state of mind then reads, "The point of life is to be sad."
Following that thought, I stretch out to eternity and the next life....perhaps it will be better? But one of my deepest, darkest fears (and I've wondered about this since I was a teenager) is that the next life won't be any better. According to my beliefs, part of the next life is living life as my Father does and having spirit children who I will love, deeply. And they in turn, while rendering wonderful men and women as Daniel and Mary, will also yield Lucifer, Cain, Judas and Adolph Hitler. My fear, then, is that we never hear about Heavenly Mother because she spends eternity in her solar, sobbing. My fear, then, is that this is the destiny of my soul.
And I hate crying. Especially over things I can't change.
At the same time, I can't get rid of the thought, "What is the point to this life?" I believe that a huge reason for our human existence is to love other people with our whole hearts, selflessly, as God loves us. But that love is inextricably interwoven with pain and hurt and sorrow and grief. To which my glass-half-empty state of mind then reads, "The point of life is to be sad."
Following that thought, I stretch out to eternity and the next life....perhaps it will be better? But one of my deepest, darkest fears (and I've wondered about this since I was a teenager) is that the next life won't be any better. According to my beliefs, part of the next life is living life as my Father does and having spirit children who I will love, deeply. And they in turn, while rendering wonderful men and women as Daniel and Mary, will also yield Lucifer, Cain, Judas and Adolph Hitler. My fear, then, is that we never hear about Heavenly Mother because she spends eternity in her solar, sobbing. My fear, then, is that this is the destiny of my soul.
And I hate crying. Especially over things I can't change.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Overwhelmed
I wish, at times, that I could just plug a USB cable into my head and let all the posts I've written mentally pour out onto the screen.
We spent last week on the Oregon coast with my mother-in-law. It was an adventure, to say the least. I was following my sister-in-law on our way to the coast Monday afternoon when my car began to make a HORRIBLE noise coming directly from the engine block. I pulled over at the next gas station and began making calls (I finally have my very own cell phone - amazing what happens when your husband can't get a hold of you in an emergency). When Robert heard the noise (he's an automotive mechanic in case I never mentioned that), he said the van was T.O.A.S.T. I called a wrecking yard and they were willing to take the van in exchange for towing it to their yard for free. Good news: no large towing bill (did you know it costs $65-85 just to hook up?). Bad news: no vehicle.
We played at the coast and Robert and I began to figure out what to do. Sometimes I really hate being an adult.
The short story: I am still carless (I have some friends who have lent me vehicles as needed so I do have transportation, I just don't happen to actually have a vehicle of my very own) and so there was no need to take the ferry north (plus, how would I get to the ferry terminal?). The kids and I will now be flying to Alaska with Robert on July 6th (which is when we dump all of our household goods with the barge lines), which puts me leaving Oregon two weeks early than planned and getting into Alaska three weeks earlier than planned.
And this is the whole point of this post: I am so hopelessly overwhelmed. This week is my week to work on the shop's books so I can get everything together for our fiscal year end (June 30) and get the paperwork to the accountant. Next week Rob will be here to help pack up the house. Then I was to have a week at cub camp with the boys and a week to play and say good bye and another week to visit friends on my way up to Alaska before catching the ferry. Now that timetable has been collapsed into just two weeks. I'm stressed about work. I'm stressed about packing. I'm stressed about saying good bye.
This has been my home for the last 9 years. (And no, the house has not sold or even had an offer on it.) Rhys has lived here since he was less than one year old. Their friends are here, the places they know and love. My friends are here. I had finally relaxed and let go and decided that I would live in this town, in this home, forever. It was, seriously, about two months later when we decided (thanks, God) to move to my hometown.
I don't want to go.
I'm scared.
For me. For my kids.
I talked with a dear friend about all this this morning. She gave me much of the same ol' rhetoric about God's ways being better and higher than our own and how He has a plan for us.
I hear that. I can logically agree to that.
But I feel like He just keeps telling me no.
I believe that He is omnipotent and I know that He can't always say "yes" but can't He do so on occastion? He allowed my mom to die instead of healing her. And now we're leaving when I so desperately want to stay. I can't lose weight to save my life nor end my addiction to chocolate and food. It seems everytime something is big, I get told, "No." So what is the point of even asking?
I then I feel guilt on top of that for whining at these small things when there are so many others around the world who struggle with far greater problems than I will ever have to.
So I'm trying to work and trying not to cry all day (and yes, I am still taking my meds). And I'm trying not to think about everything we will be leaving behind. And I'm trying not to assume the worst about everything we are moving to. (No, we still don't have a home there.) And I'm trying not to freak out.
And in reality all I can think about is how much mortality sucks. I hate goodbyes. I hate loving people only to lose them. I hate how ephemeral everything is. I hate always feeling alone and lost.
My undergrad thesis was on Pascal's wager. I couldn't, at the time, see why someone would not accept the risk and wager that there is indeed a God, as they had nothing to lose. I later understood that even risking nothing, we are still risking ourselves, our hearts, our beliefs, our choices, everything that makes us US; our "ousia," if you will. That's how I feel about this move. And instead of jumping in and trusting my all to His tender care, I'm sticking out my arms and claws and digging in and howling at the moon about having to leave. I don't want to surrender everything. It hurts too much. And bad things always seem to follow. People get baptized and then hardships inevitably follow. Moms die instead of being healed. Homes get broken up. It hurts. Mortality sucks.
We spent last week on the Oregon coast with my mother-in-law. It was an adventure, to say the least. I was following my sister-in-law on our way to the coast Monday afternoon when my car began to make a HORRIBLE noise coming directly from the engine block. I pulled over at the next gas station and began making calls (I finally have my very own cell phone - amazing what happens when your husband can't get a hold of you in an emergency). When Robert heard the noise (he's an automotive mechanic in case I never mentioned that), he said the van was T.O.A.S.T. I called a wrecking yard and they were willing to take the van in exchange for towing it to their yard for free. Good news: no large towing bill (did you know it costs $65-85 just to hook up?). Bad news: no vehicle.
We played at the coast and Robert and I began to figure out what to do. Sometimes I really hate being an adult.
The short story: I am still carless (I have some friends who have lent me vehicles as needed so I do have transportation, I just don't happen to actually have a vehicle of my very own) and so there was no need to take the ferry north (plus, how would I get to the ferry terminal?). The kids and I will now be flying to Alaska with Robert on July 6th (which is when we dump all of our household goods with the barge lines), which puts me leaving Oregon two weeks early than planned and getting into Alaska three weeks earlier than planned.
And this is the whole point of this post: I am so hopelessly overwhelmed. This week is my week to work on the shop's books so I can get everything together for our fiscal year end (June 30) and get the paperwork to the accountant. Next week Rob will be here to help pack up the house. Then I was to have a week at cub camp with the boys and a week to play and say good bye and another week to visit friends on my way up to Alaska before catching the ferry. Now that timetable has been collapsed into just two weeks. I'm stressed about work. I'm stressed about packing. I'm stressed about saying good bye.
This has been my home for the last 9 years. (And no, the house has not sold or even had an offer on it.) Rhys has lived here since he was less than one year old. Their friends are here, the places they know and love. My friends are here. I had finally relaxed and let go and decided that I would live in this town, in this home, forever. It was, seriously, about two months later when we decided (thanks, God) to move to my hometown.
I don't want to go.
I'm scared.
For me. For my kids.
I talked with a dear friend about all this this morning. She gave me much of the same ol' rhetoric about God's ways being better and higher than our own and how He has a plan for us.
I hear that. I can logically agree to that.
But I feel like He just keeps telling me no.
I believe that He is omnipotent and I know that He can't always say "yes" but can't He do so on occastion? He allowed my mom to die instead of healing her. And now we're leaving when I so desperately want to stay. I can't lose weight to save my life nor end my addiction to chocolate and food. It seems everytime something is big, I get told, "No." So what is the point of even asking?
I then I feel guilt on top of that for whining at these small things when there are so many others around the world who struggle with far greater problems than I will ever have to.
So I'm trying to work and trying not to cry all day (and yes, I am still taking my meds). And I'm trying not to think about everything we will be leaving behind. And I'm trying not to assume the worst about everything we are moving to. (No, we still don't have a home there.) And I'm trying not to freak out.
And in reality all I can think about is how much mortality sucks. I hate goodbyes. I hate loving people only to lose them. I hate how ephemeral everything is. I hate always feeling alone and lost.
My undergrad thesis was on Pascal's wager. I couldn't, at the time, see why someone would not accept the risk and wager that there is indeed a God, as they had nothing to lose. I later understood that even risking nothing, we are still risking ourselves, our hearts, our beliefs, our choices, everything that makes us US; our "ousia," if you will. That's how I feel about this move. And instead of jumping in and trusting my all to His tender care, I'm sticking out my arms and claws and digging in and howling at the moon about having to leave. I don't want to surrender everything. It hurts too much. And bad things always seem to follow. People get baptized and then hardships inevitably follow. Moms die instead of being healed. Homes get broken up. It hurts. Mortality sucks.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Isms
(Yes, I know that this is less than stellar - again with cleaning the drafty folder.)
Rob and I have been married for the last 11.5 years, longer than some, far shorter than others. Over that time, I have acquired from him a lovely group of pithy sayings: "I'm off like a prom dress at midnight;" "Ain't nothin' but a g-string....and there ain't much to one of those;" "Don't sweat the petty, pet the sweaty."
There's a common theme, wouldn't you say?
And yet I do use them, quite often, without even thinking (much to the shock of some of my more upright Mormon friends).
His favorite (and, coincidentally, my least) is to quote Andrew Dice Clay (that great example of manhood) and say, "Hickory Dickory Dock...." That's all he usually has to say to ensure he gets a good dope slap or "ROBERT!!" Occasionally he'll get as far as "A mouse ran up..." after which I remind him of small children in the area.
He has a particular Robert-ism that he shares with my dear sister-in-law Mia, "Son of a biscuit eater."
Now I'm sure, since the two of them use it with great frequency, that this must be a much used phrase of the South (by which I mean Lower 48), although I've never heard anyone else use it.
Which brings me to the real point of this post (as much as I love my husband): Mia-isms.
My SIL is an amazing cook, home school mother and woman. But best of all, she can turn a phrase. Our conversations are quite entertaining.
When stumbling upon something shocking, "What the hey-diddley-do wop?" I'm sure you can see the Simpsons influence upon her vocab.
When she's frustrated: "I swear to Buddha," (I keep telling her that she's going to offend a devout Buddhist someday) or "Poop on my head," (which I remind her would be rather thoroughly unpleasant).
When she's angry at my brother (which, surprisingly, is not daily), "I don't care what you do, think or say."
When she's pleased with something, "Hot dog!" (Mickey Mouse's first words ever) or "Praise the bum!" (Yeah, I've got nothing for that one.)
When something is disappointing, "Dude bomber."
But when she has to pee, she reminds me that she is no ordinary girl, "I've got to pee like a banshee." Do banshees actually pee? One has to wonder if the supernatural must condescend to bodily functions like us mere mortals. In Mia's world, though, they do and apparently it's more than a racehorse.
So in a cheeky homage to these two dear people in my life, enjoy their frequently used isms and I encourage you to go out and use one today.
Double points if you can meld them together.....
Perhaps you'll have to "Be off like a prom dress at midnight," because you've got to "pee like a banshee."
The possibilities are simply endless.
Rob and I have been married for the last 11.5 years, longer than some, far shorter than others. Over that time, I have acquired from him a lovely group of pithy sayings: "I'm off like a prom dress at midnight;" "Ain't nothin' but a g-string....and there ain't much to one of those;" "Don't sweat the petty, pet the sweaty."
There's a common theme, wouldn't you say?
And yet I do use them, quite often, without even thinking (much to the shock of some of my more upright Mormon friends).
His favorite (and, coincidentally, my least) is to quote Andrew Dice Clay (that great example of manhood) and say, "Hickory Dickory Dock...." That's all he usually has to say to ensure he gets a good dope slap or "ROBERT!!" Occasionally he'll get as far as "A mouse ran up..." after which I remind him of small children in the area.
He has a particular Robert-ism that he shares with my dear sister-in-law Mia, "Son of a biscuit eater."
Now I'm sure, since the two of them use it with great frequency, that this must be a much used phrase of the South (by which I mean Lower 48), although I've never heard anyone else use it.
Which brings me to the real point of this post (as much as I love my husband): Mia-isms.
My SIL is an amazing cook, home school mother and woman. But best of all, she can turn a phrase. Our conversations are quite entertaining.
When stumbling upon something shocking, "What the hey-diddley-do wop?" I'm sure you can see the Simpsons influence upon her vocab.
When she's frustrated: "I swear to Buddha," (I keep telling her that she's going to offend a devout Buddhist someday) or "Poop on my head," (which I remind her would be rather thoroughly unpleasant).
When she's angry at my brother (which, surprisingly, is not daily), "I don't care what you do, think or say."
When she's pleased with something, "Hot dog!" (Mickey Mouse's first words ever) or "Praise the bum!" (Yeah, I've got nothing for that one.)
When something is disappointing, "Dude bomber."
But when she has to pee, she reminds me that she is no ordinary girl, "I've got to pee like a banshee." Do banshees actually pee? One has to wonder if the supernatural must condescend to bodily functions like us mere mortals. In Mia's world, though, they do and apparently it's more than a racehorse.
So in a cheeky homage to these two dear people in my life, enjoy their frequently used isms and I encourage you to go out and use one today.
Double points if you can meld them together.....
Perhaps you'll have to "Be off like a prom dress at midnight," because you've got to "pee like a banshee."
The possibilities are simply endless.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
In Memoriam
A blog has passed. It was a great blog, full of pithy Latin phrases, angst and comments on Zillah's easy way of scratching items of her to-do lists filled me with envy as my own to-do lists stared at me with haunting eyes, reminding me of all I was ignoring.
Her beautiful house, the entries on man-sized bugs, brilliant essays on women and drinking gin....all will be missed.
So while I appreciate that it was just time for this blog to go, Z, you will be missed greatly.
Then again....it could just be all those spanking pictures.
Perhaps I'll just have to come out of the closet and start looking for my own.
If I Had A Million Dollars....
...which is really code for, "If I had so much money I could never spend it all," because we all know that million dollars, particularly after taxes, ain't going to get you very far in this day and age.It's also one of my favorite Barenaked Ladies songs but I digress.
I'm not really sure I'd be all that inventive with the money actually. (Hence why I've never posted this entry.)
I would do boring things:
- Pay off debts
- Own at least two houses outright - one here and one in Alaska. Another house in Seattle with a car for Mia and the kids when they visit Children's.
- Give money to family members.
- Set up trusts for my children.
- Sock money away for Rob and I.
Seriously.
Okay, I'd go a little shopping happy and buy books - so many books - and maybe have some built-in book shelves (because I love those too) installed so that I could store all those books. Or maybe build a library like the one in Beauty and the Beast because I've been in love with that room since I saw the movie.
I'd give lots of money away too. Maybe set up my own charitable organization. (Because we're talking about more than a million dollars otherwise I'd have been broke after #2.)
Hmmmm....I'd travel. Forget really cool indoor playgrounds and all that, I'd get passports for us all and see the world. I would really love to live for months or a year in different countries to learn more about the people and their culture. Oh, I would so love that.
Can you buy your way on to MoTab? Cause I'd love to sing in the choir. And maybe they'd wave the "living in Utah" requirement and just let me commute from another state, seeing as I'd have my own plane and all.
What about sleeping in the Lincoln bedroom? Would Obama go for that? Maybe I'll have to vote for Hilary in a few years so that can happen....
Seriously, I think that's it.
Maybe I'd take a class on expanding my creativity, apparently I need some help.
What would you do? (I figure I can get some great ideas or be comforted by the fact that everyone else is just as dull as I am.)
Monday, May 25, 2009
The Birds and The Bees
(returning back to my quest to clear out my drafts folder)I've been telling myself for quite some time that I need to have "the talk" with Rhys. He'll be ten in, oh, just a few more days and at some point this year, his class will be discussing same sex development. Next year, supposing that Alaskan schools keep to the same time table as Oregon ones, they will be discussing opposite sex development in class. I have always publicly stated that I would much rather teach my children about this stuff at home or, at the very least, introduce the subject at home. I would very much like for all of my children to be comfortable discussing sex and relationships with me rather than constantly turning to their peers for information, as savvy as teenagers can be.
So, time to bite the bullet.
Yeah. Right. I've been saying that since last spring! This is definitely one moment where I'm stronger in theory than in reality.
Robert and I decided that we would be talking with Rhys before summer was over. We would even mention it to him and ask him questions every now in then. He would just give us an enigmatic smile.
The talk never happened this summer.
I talked with Mia about our need to have the conversation and how it kept not happening. She told me she had some fabulous books that she would send me to help me with the discussion.
We waited, but nothing came. (Not that I minded. I'm a procrastinator anyway and this particular event didn't encourage me to be other.)
Finally, we decided that Rhys and we needed to have the talk. Happily the books arrived to help. (No, there were no copies of "You Were Smaller Than a Dot.")
Rhys was so NOT excited to be sitting next to me in my bedroom with a book stretched out before us. He hemmed and hawed and wanted to avoid this at all costs. "Can't we just work on cub scouts?" I asked him what he knew and he professed complete. (Yeah. Right.)
So, we plunged in.
I had glanced over the book previously and it seemed to cover all the subjects necessary (puberty - male and female as well as human reproduction - intercourse and baby development) and had two characters: a bird who was pleased as punch to learn all about this and a bee who didn't want to know anything.
I thought I'd have some sort of funny punch line to end with but, yeah, I've got nothing.
The talk went well. There was one little snag. As we were reading, we came to a section that was talking about all different kinds of love: parent/child, friends, parents for each other, etc. I began to get that knot in my stomach and wondered what the page turn would bring. (Yes, in hindsight I should have thoroughly read the whole book.) And the page turn brought what I was afraid it would bring, a discussion on homosexuality.
Now, I do think I need to start having these conversations with Rhys, but being so uncertain myself it's hard to know what to teach my children. I must admit that I went the safe route; I didn't condemn homosexuality (in all reality I didn't say a whole lot about it other than to define it) and I stressed, as emphatically as I could, that regardless of orientation we needed to treat everyone the same. I told Rhys is he didn't like someone, he didn't have to like them just because they were gay. But I told him that if he had a friend who said he was gay, it was no reason to stop being his/her friend. (I confess that I stopped short of introducing the option that he could be gay; I just couldn't go there.)
He seemed completely unperturbed.
I love kids.
Here I was, tied in knots, unsure what to say, and he had the attitude of, "Cool."
Overall, I must say it was anticlimatic.
I'm thinking of taking on Quinn next (I waited far too long with Rhys and Quinn keeps wanting to read those cool books Aunt Mia bought).
I'm also thinking about talking to Lulu about it. Yes, I know she's only 5 but the girl's been obsessed with nipples since she was two; she wants to know why I put pads in my underwear and why I have hair in certain places. In fact, just yesterday, she came running up to me, "Mom! I'm getting hair on my vulva!"
Not likely.
But I'm thinking she would want some further information and clarification.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Je Suis Madame Mystérieuse....
Now that the morbidity is out of the way, on to the good news!
Robert is pretty amazing; he has supernatural powers of deduction. For Christmas a few years ago, I walked up to him and said, "I know what your parents are getting you for Christmas." He glanced up and said, "A gun safe." Not too impressive, he had guns, Rhys was almost 1, time to make sure everything is locked up.
I, however, did not want to be outdone. "Well I know what else they're getting you for Christmas...."
Seriously. He looked at me, thought for a moment and said, "Sweatpants."
He was dead on.
Seriously.
I mean, are the two even related? Do people normally buy sweatpants and a gun safe? Do stores have promotions, "Buy a gun safe, get a free set of sweats!" Is it a guy thing - guns and sweats?
I. don't. know.
I just know he nailed it and he's been doing the same thing for the last 9 years.
This year, however, I decided to surprise him. In a big way.
Robert visited at the beginning of May (he had a conference in Seattle and extended the trip south a few miles). It was fabulous and short and we talked about me flying up in June, by myself, to visit, see all the work being done and just be with him.
I decided that I should go, but I had an extra trick up my sleeve.
Rob's birthday was May 18th (and, coincidentally, so is my father's and yes, I do know what Freud would say about that). Robert puts a lot in store by birthdays and by our being together on said days. And I love to plot surprises (imagine my disappointment over the last several years).
So, I bought tickets to fly north for the weekend but told him (and everyone else in Alaska - sorry Mia) that I was coming in June. A friend picked me up from the airport and at 10:30 ADT, I was blessed to see my husband, slack jawed, wide-eyed saying something along the lines of "What.....?"
Seriously.
It was amazing. All that I could of dreamed of. (The weekend was really fun too.)
In hindsight, Robert realized he should have seen it coming a mile away from all the clues and hints I dropped but he's been so distracted by work and a ruptured ear drum that he didn't.
Me, I don't care what the cause or how it happened, I'm just glad that no only did I get to spend time with him,but that I surprised him. I'll be surprised if I can ever do that again, as long as we both shall live.
Robert is pretty amazing; he has supernatural powers of deduction. For Christmas a few years ago, I walked up to him and said, "I know what your parents are getting you for Christmas." He glanced up and said, "A gun safe." Not too impressive, he had guns, Rhys was almost 1, time to make sure everything is locked up.
I, however, did not want to be outdone. "Well I know what else they're getting you for Christmas...."
Seriously. He looked at me, thought for a moment and said, "Sweatpants."
He was dead on.
Seriously.
I mean, are the two even related? Do people normally buy sweatpants and a gun safe? Do stores have promotions, "Buy a gun safe, get a free set of sweats!" Is it a guy thing - guns and sweats?
I. don't. know.
I just know he nailed it and he's been doing the same thing for the last 9 years.
This year, however, I decided to surprise him. In a big way.
Robert visited at the beginning of May (he had a conference in Seattle and extended the trip south a few miles). It was fabulous and short and we talked about me flying up in June, by myself, to visit, see all the work being done and just be with him.
I decided that I should go, but I had an extra trick up my sleeve.
Rob's birthday was May 18th (and, coincidentally, so is my father's and yes, I do know what Freud would say about that). Robert puts a lot in store by birthdays and by our being together on said days. And I love to plot surprises (imagine my disappointment over the last several years).
So, I bought tickets to fly north for the weekend but told him (and everyone else in Alaska - sorry Mia) that I was coming in June. A friend picked me up from the airport and at 10:30 ADT, I was blessed to see my husband, slack jawed, wide-eyed saying something along the lines of "What.....?"
Seriously.
It was amazing. All that I could of dreamed of. (The weekend was really fun too.)
In hindsight, Robert realized he should have seen it coming a mile away from all the clues and hints I dropped but he's been so distracted by work and a ruptured ear drum that he didn't.
Me, I don't care what the cause or how it happened, I'm just glad that no only did I get to spend time with him,but that I surprised him. I'll be surprised if I can ever do that again, as long as we both shall live.
On Death and Dying
You'd think after all these episodes with Grey's Anatomy, the nights sobbing over deaths of imagined people, that I would give up watching the show, but I seem to be addicted, addicted to the characters, my "friends," their lives and choices and the certainty that we are all going to die.
Perhaps it's the impending anniversary of my mom's death, or really just the fact that she died at all, that gives these episodes extra import (then again, I am a drama queen), but I can't help but cry over every death and ponder, with every death, the meaning of life.
I have my faith, but there are moments when I wonder if all of this is worth it; if the moments of joy and happiness and love are really worth all the moments of tears and pain and anguish. Moments like now, as I watch Izzie sign a DNR and convince her husband that it's necessary and I remember the moment my mom told me she had signed a DNR and the moment I understood that that was the reason the ambulance didn't race her to the hospital with lights flashing and sirens blaring. Death is inevitable, as certain as birth, perhaps even more so. And while I believe, with all my heart, that eternity lies in death, that birth into "real life," I also know, with all my heart, that the goodbye of death is painful and the separation of death between the living and dead is enormous.
I just can't wrap my head around death and life and what it means to be immortal beings living mortal lives.
Perhaps it's the impending anniversary of my mom's death, or really just the fact that she died at all, that gives these episodes extra import (then again, I am a drama queen), but I can't help but cry over every death and ponder, with every death, the meaning of life.
I have my faith, but there are moments when I wonder if all of this is worth it; if the moments of joy and happiness and love are really worth all the moments of tears and pain and anguish. Moments like now, as I watch Izzie sign a DNR and convince her husband that it's necessary and I remember the moment my mom told me she had signed a DNR and the moment I understood that that was the reason the ambulance didn't race her to the hospital with lights flashing and sirens blaring. Death is inevitable, as certain as birth, perhaps even more so. And while I believe, with all my heart, that eternity lies in death, that birth into "real life," I also know, with all my heart, that the goodbye of death is painful and the separation of death between the living and dead is enormous.
I just can't wrap my head around death and life and what it means to be immortal beings living mortal lives.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Current Happenings
OK - so this is not an oldie but unshared goodie but I'm trying to get this blog active again. (Do two buts in a sentence constitute a run-on?)
Today was C.R.A.Z.Y.
I got a call last night that someone wanted to come see my house today at 9:30am. I was up until 9:30 pm cleaning and then up this morning and cleaning by 7:30. I came home for lunch, ready for a nap as this week has been exhausting only to have another realtor call me wanting to show my house at 5pm AND 6pm.
Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that people are coming to look at the house but managing 3 children of my own plus two extras for most the day AND having a clean house AND helping my kids get their work done while having to be out of the house so that they can show the house?
Yeah. No fun.
On the upside, the kids LOVE takeout but were disappointed that I refused to take them to McDonald's.
On the double upside, have I mentioned that Robert is flying in for the weekend tomorrow?
Can you see my grin?
I think the space shuttle can!
That's my day, focusing on the silver lining.
I'll let you know if any offers come my way. ****fingers crossed & prayers said****
Today was C.R.A.Z.Y.
I got a call last night that someone wanted to come see my house today at 9:30am. I was up until 9:30 pm cleaning and then up this morning and cleaning by 7:30. I came home for lunch, ready for a nap as this week has been exhausting only to have another realtor call me wanting to show my house at 5pm AND 6pm.
Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that people are coming to look at the house but managing 3 children of my own plus two extras for most the day AND having a clean house AND helping my kids get their work done while having to be out of the house so that they can show the house?
Yeah. No fun.
On the upside, the kids LOVE takeout but were disappointed that I refused to take them to McDonald's.
On the double upside, have I mentioned that Robert is flying in for the weekend tomorrow?
Can you see my grin?
I think the space shuttle can!
That's my day, focusing on the silver lining.
I'll let you know if any offers come my way. ****fingers crossed & prayers said****
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Current Postings
In an attempt to clear out all my drafts, I will be publishing them despite any imperfections. Really my CDO (OCD in alphabetical order, as it should be) can't stand all these drafts just lying about. 
I hope you enjoy them but honestly, I think you should just be happier knowing my soul is at peace.
I hope you enjoy them but honestly, I think you should just be happier knowing my soul is at peace.Why I Love Language
I love words. I love their liquiescence and how they can flow, trippingly off the tongue.I love puns and double meanings.
I love a good turn of phrase. Amnesiac exile. Duality of emotion. Verbal hemophilia.
I love finding a good $10 word that can take the place of 15 $1 words - it's just good value.
I love what language tells us about a culture: the French with their Academie Francaise guarding over the purity of their language; the Germans with words that seem to be increasingly spliced together to describe new things; the Americans where slang is becoming a more and more a part of "speaking good English," and adverbs are disappearing almost entirely.
I love the power of language. I have been working on teaching my children to say, "I forgive you," rather than, "That's okay," when someone apologizes, even over small things. It's amazing how freeing it is, for both parties, to hear those three little words.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Easter Lessons
Easter was odd this year. Robert and I, while planning our unwanted separation, failed to consider the fact that we would be apart during a major holiday. Ironically, Rob and my dad were trying to get me to fly up for the weekend to see all the remodeling my husband has done to the shop. I was about ready to book my ticket when a dear agnostic/atheist friend said, "Don't you guys celebrate Easter?"*LIGHT BULB FLASH*
"Um, yeah, we do. Crap." I replied.
I then began to carry forth on all our family traditions and good times. I bought eggs for dying and the dye kits (that was easy - I even let the kids pick them out instead of just buying the cheapest one). The goodies were a little harder to get (what with trying to lie and propagate the myth of the Easter Bunny) but I finally managed to pawn my kids of on Lizzie and go to the store. (The Saturday morning before Easter Sunday, mind you.)
Then we went to an Easter Egg Hunt at a park. We came home (after 3 hours of waiting, hunting, bounce housing and winning raffles) and I was exhausted. I collapsed and took a nap. We had take out and then dyed eggs. It was 9pm by the time the kids were in bed. Then I had to make the basket (I only did one this year) and wrote up clues for a treasure hunt. It was well after midnight by the time I picked up the house and went to bed.
The kids were up bright and early! Egads. I surfaced at about 7am and we did the hunt. After we found the basket, I realized that not once this whole weekend (Good Friday was the Cub Scout Pinewood Derby) had we discussed Jesus. Not once. So I made a mention but then it was time to get ready for church.
I somehow made it through sacrament, went out to the comfy chairs in the lobby and slept through Sunday School and then slept in Relief Society. When we got home, it was off to Grandpa's house for the family egg hunt and lunner.
By the time we got home, 6pm, I was so exhausted I told the kids, "You know your bedtimes, get ready for bed, watch a movie and go to bed at the right time," and then I went to sleep. I slept straight through until 7am.
SO....
the point of this very long tale?
Being a single parent SUCKS! I have no idea how people do this year after year, holiday after holiday. I will say, in hindsight, I have learned that prioritizing is a must. I was so dismayed to find that my children and I had talked very little about the atonement, cruxifiction and resurrection. I know they got some of that in church but I view church lessons as supplemental not primary. (HA! Pun not intended.) I was also dismayed that I was so exhausted that Easter Sunday became more something I had to get through instead of something I could enjoy.
God willing I will never have to go this alone again. But, if I do, I think I would cut out more of the secular and let things fall by the wayside and opt for more spiritual lessons and more sleep for Mom.
My kids were happy; they got loads of candy and good stuff and at this point in their lives, that seems to be the best part of Easter. And I think that's why my lack of presenting the other side to this holiday bothers me; as a parent, I don't think I will ever stop worrying about my children's spiritual development and wanting to do all I can to help it.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Self-Delusional
Did you notice I didn't post yesterday? I didn't on purpose; I was afraid my inner devil might come out and I might do something crazy, which would then make me feel guilty and the vicious cycle would just continue.
So, I abstained. It took some doing (duct taping my hands to my butt) but I did it!
The kids and I recently had the joy (no sarcasm here) of tending a friend's farm animals while she was out of town. We loved it! There were three lambs, a llama, 3 rams, a bunch of bottomless pit, I'm always so damn hungry goats and sheep and a few large dogs disguised as cows.
And of course, we HAD to take pictures.
I don't know about you, but I have a vision of myself in my head. Said vision, does not look like this:
or this:
But when you see yourself in all your 2-D glory, it hits you, BAM!!! Maybe that darn Wii Fit was right and I really am obese with a horribly high BMI.
And maybe, just maybe, I don't really look like this:
Ok. So I'm not quite THAT delusional.
But still.
And then, to add insult to serious injury, I get this email:
What did I do to get over this terribly travesty?
Well.....
I laid down for a bit.
Ate some chocolate.
And taped this to the mirror:
so I could slip back into my nice safe delusion
AND - I vowed never to let my children use my camera again!
So, I abstained. It took some doing (duct taping my hands to my butt) but I did it!
The kids and I recently had the joy (no sarcasm here) of tending a friend's farm animals while she was out of town. We loved it! There were three lambs, a llama, 3 rams, a bunch of bottomless pit, I'm always so damn hungry goats and sheep and a few large dogs disguised as cows.
And of course, we HAD to take pictures.
I don't know about you, but I have a vision of myself in my head. Said vision, does not look like this:
or this:
But when you see yourself in all your 2-D glory, it hits you, BAM!!! Maybe that darn Wii Fit was right and I really am obese with a horribly high BMI.And maybe, just maybe, I don't really look like this:
Ok. So I'm not quite THAT delusional.But still.
And then, to add insult to serious injury, I get this email:
Hi Maraiya, cute picture! It's sure fun being back in Alaska... do you miss being here? I thought I heard a rumor that maybe your family is moving to Alaska? Is that right? I'm convinced that Alaska is our home ... and I love it!Now, I realize that my friend (who hasn't said boo to me since we hooked up on facebook) is just looking for more people on her downline. I know that! But internally? This is my dialogue:
My focus for 2009 is regaining my health! I kind of lost track of myself for a number of years ... but I've found myself again! Yeah! Check out my webiste: XXX.isagenix.com. I'd love to have you join my team! :)
Holy Hannah! I'm fat! I'm so fat that people I don't know very well are calling me and saying,"Hey Maraiya! You look like you could lose some weight and you look fat enough that you look desperate to lose weight. So desperate that you will be willing to buy my uber expensive product and sell it to all your friends, because you know, after using my uber expensive product, you will be trim and svelte!"Crikey.
What did I do to get over this terribly travesty?
Well.....
I laid down for a bit.
Ate some chocolate.
And taped this to the mirror:
so I could slip back into my nice safe delusionAND - I vowed never to let my children use my camera again!
Friday, March 27, 2009
Spring Sunshine
I have been far too gloomy.
Today the sun is shining, trees are in blossom, my generic Zyrtec is working wonderfully, my children are playing at their cousins and my house is sparkling clean and I feel like dancing! And I have. Danced. Twirled. Sang. Played my piano.
Life is good.
But as I'm sitting here, body full of endorphins, I'm reminded of all the wonderful things I've seen and experienced of late that seem to get covered up by my stress.
A week ago, I was walking to my car from Safeway and noticed a man, not a Safeway employee, just a regular Joe, pushing about 10 carts from the lot into the store. How kind is that?
Yesterday I took my children to the library. As we were entering, Rhys noticed a man exiting with a walker. Rhys thoughtfully held the door for him. I didn't even notice the guy and wouldn't have remembered my social niceties until it was too late, but my 10 year old caught it all and acted kindly. I was so pleased.
I turned on my music player today, set it on random and my favorite *favorite* songs came up right away. Love that.
This last weekend I was completely melting down under the weight of single-parenthood. Sunday afternoon, Jennifer took my kids just after church and kept them until bedtime and even sent some leftover dinner home with me. Monday night my father-in-law took the boys overnight and then took them fishing the next morning. Wednesday Kristie had both boys spend the night at her house and last night, Julie, my sister-in-law, had all three over and they've still yet to return. Yesterday I got a phone call from Lee and Sylvia wanting to take my children out to a movie. I HAD TO TURN THEM DOWN!!! because my children were already engaged elsewhere.
I still need to learn how to cope with having all three children but wow! God is good. I was at the end of my rope and offer after offer came rolling in. I am feeling overwhelmed at the care of God and my friends and family.
And really, I'm posting this for myself more than anything else; I need something to read the next time I feel myself falling apart to remind myself that goodness often springs up in the middle of a desert.
Today the sun is shining, trees are in blossom, my generic Zyrtec is working wonderfully, my children are playing at their cousins and my house is sparkling clean and I feel like dancing! And I have. Danced. Twirled. Sang. Played my piano.
Life is good.
But as I'm sitting here, body full of endorphins, I'm reminded of all the wonderful things I've seen and experienced of late that seem to get covered up by my stress.
A week ago, I was walking to my car from Safeway and noticed a man, not a Safeway employee, just a regular Joe, pushing about 10 carts from the lot into the store. How kind is that?
Yesterday I took my children to the library. As we were entering, Rhys noticed a man exiting with a walker. Rhys thoughtfully held the door for him. I didn't even notice the guy and wouldn't have remembered my social niceties until it was too late, but my 10 year old caught it all and acted kindly. I was so pleased.
I turned on my music player today, set it on random and my favorite *favorite* songs came up right away. Love that.
This last weekend I was completely melting down under the weight of single-parenthood. Sunday afternoon, Jennifer took my kids just after church and kept them until bedtime and even sent some leftover dinner home with me. Monday night my father-in-law took the boys overnight and then took them fishing the next morning. Wednesday Kristie had both boys spend the night at her house and last night, Julie, my sister-in-law, had all three over and they've still yet to return. Yesterday I got a phone call from Lee and Sylvia wanting to take my children out to a movie. I HAD TO TURN THEM DOWN!!! because my children were already engaged elsewhere.
I still need to learn how to cope with having all three children but wow! God is good. I was at the end of my rope and offer after offer came rolling in. I am feeling overwhelmed at the care of God and my friends and family.
And really, I'm posting this for myself more than anything else; I need something to read the next time I feel myself falling apart to remind myself that goodness often springs up in the middle of a desert.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
SERENITY NOW!!
I am still suffering from a lack of inspiration (in case you couldn't tell).
Seriously, I'm just trying to get by without doing anything desperate, like, oh, locking my kids in a cage.
Sunday was bad. I ended up calling a friend and she took all three children for the afternoon.
It was bliss.
Seriously, I'm just trying to get by without doing anything desperate, like, oh, locking my kids in a cage.
Sunday was bad. I ended up calling a friend and she took all three children for the afternoon.
It was bliss.
The problem is, just like when I get a massage, I was all happy and relaxed and thinking, "Bring it on!" and then they did and then I could feel myself tensing right back up, nerves escalating and then I can't see anything but red.
*sigh*
Any other single moms? Does it get any better?
*sigh*
Any other single moms? Does it get any better?
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Which Great Philosopher Are You?
A friend of mine took the above mentioned quiz on Facebook. His answer was a dismal, "Kant." Blech. But I found the whole idea so entertaining that I couldn't wait to take it myself.
I thoughtfully read through all the questions (I think someone had a great deal of fun writing this quiz) and was thoroughly pleased with the results:
I loved Kierkegaard in college. Perhaps it's the slash throught O in Soren - so sexy. Perhaps it's his anti-Hegelianism (in my mind, I burned the Phenomenology of Spirit over and over again and laughed with sadistic pleasure). Perhaps it's the fact that he talked about God as it was something intelligent to talk about and not just greater than anything which we can conceive.
This test was the bright spot in my day and I just had to share.
My favorite question and possible answer on this whole 8 - 10 question quiz? "Is there a God?" "Yes and he is probably quite brilliant and German." After reading Hegel and Nietzsche and Kant, that was my suspicion as well.
I thoughtfully read through all the questions (I think someone had a great deal of fun writing this quiz) and was thoroughly pleased with the results:
Søren Aabye Kierkegaard
Søren Aabye Kierkegaard (5 May 1813 – 11 November 1855) was a prolific 19th century Danish philosopher and theologian. Kierkegaard strongly criticized both the Hegelianism of his time, and what he saw as the empty formalities of the Danish church. Much of his work deals with religious themes such as faith in God, the institution of the Christian Church, Christian ethics and theology, and the emotions and feelings of individuals when faced with life choices. His early work was written under various pseudonyms who present their own distinctive viewpoints in a complex dialogue. Kierkegaard left the task of discovering the meaning of his works to the reader, because "the task must be made difficult, for only the difficult inspires the noble-hearted". Scholars have interpreted Kierkegaard variously as an existentialist, neo-orthodoxist, postmodernist, humanist, and as an individualist. Crossing the boundaries of philosophy, theology, psychology, and literature, he is an influential figure in contemporary thought.
I loved Kierkegaard in college. Perhaps it's the slash throught O in Soren - so sexy. Perhaps it's his anti-Hegelianism (in my mind, I burned the Phenomenology of Spirit over and over again and laughed with sadistic pleasure). Perhaps it's the fact that he talked about God as it was something intelligent to talk about and not just greater than anything which we can conceive.
This test was the bright spot in my day and I just had to share.
My favorite question and possible answer on this whole 8 - 10 question quiz? "Is there a God?" "Yes and he is probably quite brilliant and German." After reading Hegel and Nietzsche and Kant, that was my suspicion as well.
Monday, March 16, 2009
What to Say
Recently, while loading in the van to go somewhere, Lulu hit Quinn. I don't remember the reason or where she hurt him, but I know she whapped him a good one.
I spoke to her, sternly, and then told her to apologize.
"I'm sorry Quinn," she said in her sweet little girl voice.
Silence prevailed.
I looked in the rear view mirror at Quinn, "Well Quinn, aren't you going to respond?"
He looked straight ahead, not quite at me and said, "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."
"What?" I asked.
"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. It's what you say when you don't quite know what to say."
He said it with a bland face and then looked out the window.
I drove and stared straight ahead, muffling my laugh, with no idea what to say in return.
How could I fault him when he was so clearly right?
I spoke to her, sternly, and then told her to apologize.
"I'm sorry Quinn," she said in her sweet little girl voice.
Silence prevailed.
I looked in the rear view mirror at Quinn, "Well Quinn, aren't you going to respond?"
He looked straight ahead, not quite at me and said, "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."
"What?" I asked.
"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. It's what you say when you don't quite know what to say."
He said it with a bland face and then looked out the window.
I drove and stared straight ahead, muffling my laugh, with no idea what to say in return.
How could I fault him when he was so clearly right?
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Hiatus
I know.
It's been awhile.
I'd like to say that I have a valid excuse.
I'd like to blame it all on my current Facebook addition with the games Mafia and Fashion Wars. And while they have sucked up a great deal of my time (who knew it would take so much effort just to click a few buttons?), I would still have time to blog. So that's not it.
I'd like to blame it on my single-mother status with three children: school; lice checks; PTO; church; choir (not that I've made it to that even once this year!); laundry; dishes; laundry; dishes; laundry; dishes; laundry....well, you get the point. But no, clearly I have time even after all that or maybe because some of it (cough- laundry) I only do when the whining of "I have no clean socks," just gets to be too much. So that's not it.
Hmmm...could it be that I've been sick? No, I've actually finally recovered from my bronchitis and mucous overload; I can hear fairly well and have excellent bladder control. My children have even been healthy. (Please, God, that's not meant as a challenge!) So that's not it.
I'd like to blame it on the fact that my new super fast and sleek lap top got a virus and has been very sick requiring two visits to her doctor and now, she'll have to be completely redone. Having to work on our old dinosaur (a whole 6 years old) is so S.L.O.W. and tedious but still, the work does get done. So that's not it.
I'd like to say that it's because February has ended and sweeps are over and the ad dollars are accounted for (I didn't get any) and all new programming will be delayed until May when I may possibly rake in some of those big bucks. But we all know that's not going to happen and really, I didn't post all that much in February any way. So that's not it.
I'd like to say that it's because I've been in an overwhelming funk requiring more of my anti-depressant medication as the black hole of February sucked me into it's numbing depths. True, all too true, but nonetheless, I managed to mail Rob's package without a grand mal seizure so you'd think I could rattle of a blurb or two now and then. So that's not it.
I'd like to say that it's because of the trauma of doing my taxes, having them rejected because I got one digit in my son's ssn wrong and then thinking I'd refiled them (we were counting on the money to fill in the gaps while Robert builds the business up north; you know, for silly things like our mortgage payment) only to find out that I didn't really refile them and then finally getting them refiled and accepted last week. But really, I forgot all about my taxes until I suddenly remembered, "Hey - where's that money that's supposed to be helping us?" So that's not it.
Really, the reason is that I have no brilliant ideas. I'm FULL of them while I'm in the shower or otherwise unavailable to type: scathing rants; hilarious anecdotes; and insightful comments on our lives and society.
But when the time comes to type it all on the blank screen...
Yeah.
Nada.
So, I've been on a hiatus of sorts. A brain melting, non-thinking, "How the heck did it end up being March 15 already?" kind of hiatus.
Here's to getting some brain function back.
Cheers!
It's been awhile.
I'd like to say that I have a valid excuse.
I'd like to blame it all on my current Facebook addition with the games Mafia and Fashion Wars. And while they have sucked up a great deal of my time (who knew it would take so much effort just to click a few buttons?), I would still have time to blog. So that's not it.
I'd like to blame it on my single-mother status with three children: school; lice checks; PTO; church; choir (not that I've made it to that even once this year!); laundry; dishes; laundry; dishes; laundry; dishes; laundry....well, you get the point. But no, clearly I have time even after all that or maybe because some of it (cough- laundry) I only do when the whining of "I have no clean socks," just gets to be too much. So that's not it.
Hmmm...could it be that I've been sick? No, I've actually finally recovered from my bronchitis and mucous overload; I can hear fairly well and have excellent bladder control. My children have even been healthy. (Please, God, that's not meant as a challenge!) So that's not it.
I'd like to blame it on the fact that my new super fast and sleek lap top got a virus and has been very sick requiring two visits to her doctor and now, she'll have to be completely redone. Having to work on our old dinosaur (a whole 6 years old) is so S.L.O.W. and tedious but still, the work does get done. So that's not it.
I'd like to say that it's because February has ended and sweeps are over and the ad dollars are accounted for (I didn't get any) and all new programming will be delayed until May when I may possibly rake in some of those big bucks. But we all know that's not going to happen and really, I didn't post all that much in February any way. So that's not it.
I'd like to say that it's because I've been in an overwhelming funk requiring more of my anti-depressant medication as the black hole of February sucked me into it's numbing depths. True, all too true, but nonetheless, I managed to mail Rob's package without a grand mal seizure so you'd think I could rattle of a blurb or two now and then. So that's not it.
I'd like to say that it's because of the trauma of doing my taxes, having them rejected because I got one digit in my son's ssn wrong and then thinking I'd refiled them (we were counting on the money to fill in the gaps while Robert builds the business up north; you know, for silly things like our mortgage payment) only to find out that I didn't really refile them and then finally getting them refiled and accepted last week. But really, I forgot all about my taxes until I suddenly remembered, "Hey - where's that money that's supposed to be helping us?" So that's not it.
Really, the reason is that I have no brilliant ideas. I'm FULL of them while I'm in the shower or otherwise unavailable to type: scathing rants; hilarious anecdotes; and insightful comments on our lives and society.
But when the time comes to type it all on the blank screen...
Yeah.
Nada.
So, I've been on a hiatus of sorts. A brain melting, non-thinking, "How the heck did it end up being March 15 already?" kind of hiatus.
Here's to getting some brain function back.
Cheers!
Monday, February 23, 2009
The Shocking Revelation
I went to my OB today...and I DIDN'T SWEAT!! I'm so excited.
Now apparently, much to my amazement, not all women out there will understand that last statement. Normally when I have to do the naked thing for my OB, I get all nervous and start sweating EVERYWHERE and blushing (which is no good because I'm terribly fair skinned and it all shows) and getting nervous that I'm going to fart while the OB is down there.
But today - none of that. I just laid there calmly, chatting about our move and my happy pills. No sweating. No odiferous bombs below. It was FABULOUS!
Well, as fabulous as those appointments can be.....
Oh...what's that?
Oh, you mean you were expecting me to tell you the cost of shipping the package to my husband?
The package that I was supposed to send priority mail but turns out,
because of the size, they wouldn't ship it priority mail and I had to send it Parcel Post which is cheaper but takes longer?
Okay, Jillybean, Lizzie and Lola (since you're the three who bothered to guess) it was......
.
.
.
drumroll please
.
.
.
$89.24.
I am so NOT kidding.
If I'm reading this receipt right, the weight alone (5lbs 10.6oz) was $10.11 but the size, THE SIZE, cost me $79.13. Seriously.
Ugh.
Anyway, I guess Lola wins (1,583 bonus points! Way to go! Only 43,097,982 left until you get your prize!) as she was the closest with her bid of $60; I was only thinking $50.
This is why we're packing everything on a barge, because at these postal rates, 30 cents per pound is butt cheap.
And for those who don't read comments (cough - Mia), the box is full of fishing rods (no reels).
Now apparently, much to my amazement, not all women out there will understand that last statement. Normally when I have to do the naked thing for my OB, I get all nervous and start sweating EVERYWHERE and blushing (which is no good because I'm terribly fair skinned and it all shows) and getting nervous that I'm going to fart while the OB is down there.
But today - none of that. I just laid there calmly, chatting about our move and my happy pills. No sweating. No odiferous bombs below. It was FABULOUS!
Well, as fabulous as those appointments can be.....
Oh...what's that?
Oh, you mean you were expecting me to tell you the cost of shipping the package to my husband?
The package that I was supposed to send priority mail but turns out,
because of the size, they wouldn't ship it priority mail and I had to send it Parcel Post which is cheaper but takes longer?Okay, Jillybean, Lizzie and Lola (since you're the three who bothered to guess) it was......
.
.
.
drumroll please
.
.
.
$89.24.
I am so NOT kidding.
If I'm reading this receipt right, the weight alone (5lbs 10.6oz) was $10.11 but the size, THE SIZE, cost me $79.13. Seriously.
Ugh.
Anyway, I guess Lola wins (1,583 bonus points! Way to go! Only 43,097,982 left until you get your prize!) as she was the closest with her bid of $60; I was only thinking $50.
This is why we're packing everything on a barge, because at these postal rates, 30 cents per pound is butt cheap.
And for those who don't read comments (cough - Mia), the box is full of fishing rods (no reels).
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Sunday Quick Takes
Because I've got a lot of little bits to share but nothing that requires a whole blog post unto itself.
I'm addicted to the ads for the new ABC show "Cupid." I generally watch my tv shows online (ideally when I'm folding laundry but that doesn't always happen). The song they play during this ad is so bouncy and fun, I just start to dance. Then again, I am a sucker for all things Italian.
*****
I think I finally get the parable of the 10 Virgins; it's only taken me 33 years but supposedly it's better late than never. I have always hated, *hated*, this parable as it seemed so horribly selfish. Yeah, yeah, I know the whole "but the oil can't be shared" stuff but it's always bothered me. Today was ward conference and our stake RS presidency chose to have the Stake President give us a talk (which I thought was incredibly clever of them - next time I'm called to teach a class, I'm just going to keep having guest speakers -- "Bro Soandso, I just felt so inspired to have you come talk to the girls. The lesson is #23, I've copied it all out for you. Have a great time; I'm heading to Hawaii.") The talk was on the importance of taking care of yourself and how this is of prime importance for each of us. Something seriously clicked (I think I even heard it). The 10 Virgins is all about the need for each of us to secure our own salvation, to experience our own life, to connect with God and fill our lamps with our relationship with Him. Yes I realize that this is along the lines of the blah blah blah I've heard before (just slightly reworded) but for some reason it suddenly clicked in my heart and not just my head.
******
And speaking of taking years to figure things out, I've been carrying around heavy bags and children's coats through all three hours of church for the last, oh, 10 years. Today, today I finally figured out that, HEY!, I could drop off the stuff in the car. Wow. And then I could just carry the stuff I need around for the next two hours. Wow! Who woulda thought?
******
You know how we are encouraged to welcome and introduce ourselves to new people in the ward whether they be investigators, people who have just moved it or one day visitors. This is very hard for me; I like to hang by in my safe place but I work on forcing myself to be more congenial. Today I walked up to a lovely couple of women and introduced myself; thy are, I thought at first, new members of the ward. Ha!
I learned their names and one of the last names rang a bell, I asked, "Oh, are you related to the other Whatserfaces in the ward?"
There was that pregnant pause and she replied, "As far as I know, the only otheWhatserface in the ward in my husband."
Oh.
Crap.
I looked at her and, of course, made matters worse. "Really? Because you don't look familiar?"
The daughter (I think - see how well this stayed in my head) tried to save me, "Maybe it's just because her hair is pulled back."
Yeah. Time to cut and run.
"Oh sorry, I'm just a flake, not a brain cell in my head. Gotta go."
I think I'm going to go back to my safe place.
******
I have discovered Mafia Wars in Facebook and for some reason, this really appeals to me. Could again just be the whole, "I'm a sucker for all things Italian" even cheesy Americanized Italian.
I'm addicted to the ads for the new ABC show "Cupid." I generally watch my tv shows online (ideally when I'm folding laundry but that doesn't always happen). The song they play during this ad is so bouncy and fun, I just start to dance. Then again, I am a sucker for all things Italian.
*****
I think I finally get the parable of the 10 Virgins; it's only taken me 33 years but supposedly it's better late than never. I have always hated, *hated*, this parable as it seemed so horribly selfish. Yeah, yeah, I know the whole "but the oil can't be shared" stuff but it's always bothered me. Today was ward conference and our stake RS presidency chose to have the Stake President give us a talk (which I thought was incredibly clever of them - next time I'm called to teach a class, I'm just going to keep having guest speakers -- "Bro Soandso, I just felt so inspired to have you come talk to the girls. The lesson is #23, I've copied it all out for you. Have a great time; I'm heading to Hawaii.") The talk was on the importance of taking care of yourself and how this is of prime importance for each of us. Something seriously clicked (I think I even heard it). The 10 Virgins is all about the need for each of us to secure our own salvation, to experience our own life, to connect with God and fill our lamps with our relationship with Him. Yes I realize that this is along the lines of the blah blah blah I've heard before (just slightly reworded) but for some reason it suddenly clicked in my heart and not just my head.
******
And speaking of taking years to figure things out, I've been carrying around heavy bags and children's coats through all three hours of church for the last, oh, 10 years. Today, today I finally figured out that, HEY!, I could drop off the stuff in the car. Wow. And then I could just carry the stuff I need around for the next two hours. Wow! Who woulda thought?
******
You know how we are encouraged to welcome and introduce ourselves to new people in the ward whether they be investigators, people who have just moved it or one day visitors. This is very hard for me; I like to hang by in my safe place but I work on forcing myself to be more congenial. Today I walked up to a lovely couple of women and introduced myself; thy are, I thought at first, new members of the ward. Ha!
I learned their names and one of the last names rang a bell, I asked, "Oh, are you related to the other Whatserfaces in the ward?"
There was that pregnant pause and she replied, "As far as I know, the only otheWhatserface in the ward in my husband."
Oh.
Crap.
I looked at her and, of course, made matters worse. "Really? Because you don't look familiar?"
The daughter (I think - see how well this stayed in my head) tried to save me, "Maybe it's just because her hair is pulled back."
Yeah. Time to cut and run.
"Oh sorry, I'm just a flake, not a brain cell in my head. Gotta go."
I think I'm going to go back to my safe place.
******
I have discovered Mafia Wars in Facebook and for some reason, this really appeals to me. Could again just be the whole, "I'm a sucker for all things Italian" even cheesy Americanized Italian.
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