Well, not really. I just spent the last two hours battling writer's dyslexia, pouring out the chaos of the last couple weeks, detailing my hopes and fears, metaphoring my case in as much eloquence as I could muster. When it was finally honed, I pressed post. Blip. All gone. Not posted. The back button swallowed my mental spewed cookies, and nothing is left except the uncluttered mind. Thank you, God. And thank you to the friend that continues to nudge me along my path without judgment or bias.
Tomorrow's blog will be more engaging. Title: Datstravaganza. Time to enjoy six good hours of sleep.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Early to bed
I am so glad I got up early enough to edit out the obsenities in last night's posting. Boy, it was rough, the kind of rough that makes you shake your head with a chuckle all day and think, "I said THAT." Very uncharacteristic. There are half a dozen little things that I let play through my mind too much last night.
However, today was a new brighter day.
I am going to go see Jon Stewart in DC, or at least the microdot of him in the distance. Does anyone have any binoculars I can borrow? It sort of sucks that I'm going alone, but remembering what it was like to be half of a couple and jump through four times as many hoops to drag the poor sap along makes it suck a lot less. Want to go? Leaving Friday, coming back Sunday--Halloween. Bwhahaha. Hope my daddy understands me missing his birthday....or goes hunting.
Also, I put in a solid day at work, mowed the lawn, pushed out 4 1/2 miles on the elliptical, got some new library books, cooked, cleaned, read a couple good emails, and shopped for Cassie's birthday. That's a solid sixteen hours, so I'd better go to bed now before I ruin it.
However, today was a new brighter day.
I am going to go see Jon Stewart in DC, or at least the microdot of him in the distance. Does anyone have any binoculars I can borrow? It sort of sucks that I'm going alone, but remembering what it was like to be half of a couple and jump through four times as many hoops to drag the poor sap along makes it suck a lot less. Want to go? Leaving Friday, coming back Sunday--Halloween. Bwhahaha. Hope my daddy understands me missing his birthday....or goes hunting.
Also, I put in a solid day at work, mowed the lawn, pushed out 4 1/2 miles on the elliptical, got some new library books, cooked, cleaned, read a couple good emails, and shopped for Cassie's birthday. That's a solid sixteen hours, so I'd better go to bed now before I ruin it.
Talk to me
I'm in love with Jon Stewart. He's married, and he isn't truly an actual human being in my mind. Neverthless, that is the epitome of hotness. If I could get to D.C. for under $3,000, I would. Not only to be a part of the "Rally to Support Sanity," but also to meet like-minded folk. Though, it would be so depressing to return to EO after talking to people who thought outside of the duck blind.
Nevertheless, nevertheless, we are all in this together. What about you? Who is your hero?
Edited.
Nevertheless, nevertheless, we are all in this together. What about you? Who is your hero?
Edited.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Brush strokes
Good feelings are easy to find; you don't even need a GPS...though sometimes it helps. I'd love to take credit for consciously deciding that everything in my life this weekend was a gift to be appreciated, but really it was just brimming my favorite things: people, new experiences, and God.
Someone asked me what my dreams and fantasies were. I gave some vague answers, but after thinking about it, I'm living my dreams. It takes a little focus to realize it sometimes though. This weekend was full of exchanges and experiences that added details to the work of art called life, becoming ever more clearer as I love and work and play and pray a little every day.
Outstanding brush strokes:
I reconnected with two good friends and a load of family that I'd sort of lost contact with. These are people that I love deeply and periodically mourn because I haven't seen them in a while. The connections hadn't grown stale or awkward in the least. I love people and want to hold on to all of them. Just because direct contact may fade, doesn't mean that the connection is lost. It's just dormant while a different season plays across the canvas.
I also met some new people who unknowingly gave me a more distinct vision of the self being shaped. They were funny, warm, adventurous, and unassumingly poised. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time, but I know that I want to.
The context of adventure is more about opening one's self to positive possibilities than paring down what I want to build the walls of my rut out of. I like singing karaoke, bbqing, and watching movies, but that doesn't mean I don't have room to enjoy geocaching, running from "Big Jim" the barber, or taking a moment just to nap on the swing in the backyard. Good stuff.
Failing is okay as long as I'm failing forward. When I lie, justify, or ignore my tresspasses, the hurt, resentment, anger, fear, and guilt obscure humility, growth, and grace. If there is a part of my life that I haven't surrendered to God, then sooner or later that part spirals downward into suffering. Affording myself the same grace God offers me allows me to learn and grow from my mistakes. Only when the seed dies can the sprout be born. I am thankful for this gradual cycle that brings me more fully into God's light and love.
What a beautiful life I've been given. Yay.
Someone asked me what my dreams and fantasies were. I gave some vague answers, but after thinking about it, I'm living my dreams. It takes a little focus to realize it sometimes though. This weekend was full of exchanges and experiences that added details to the work of art called life, becoming ever more clearer as I love and work and play and pray a little every day.
Outstanding brush strokes:
I reconnected with two good friends and a load of family that I'd sort of lost contact with. These are people that I love deeply and periodically mourn because I haven't seen them in a while. The connections hadn't grown stale or awkward in the least. I love people and want to hold on to all of them. Just because direct contact may fade, doesn't mean that the connection is lost. It's just dormant while a different season plays across the canvas.
I also met some new people who unknowingly gave me a more distinct vision of the self being shaped. They were funny, warm, adventurous, and unassumingly poised. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time, but I know that I want to.
The context of adventure is more about opening one's self to positive possibilities than paring down what I want to build the walls of my rut out of. I like singing karaoke, bbqing, and watching movies, but that doesn't mean I don't have room to enjoy geocaching, running from "Big Jim" the barber, or taking a moment just to nap on the swing in the backyard. Good stuff.
Failing is okay as long as I'm failing forward. When I lie, justify, or ignore my tresspasses, the hurt, resentment, anger, fear, and guilt obscure humility, growth, and grace. If there is a part of my life that I haven't surrendered to God, then sooner or later that part spirals downward into suffering. Affording myself the same grace God offers me allows me to learn and grow from my mistakes. Only when the seed dies can the sprout be born. I am thankful for this gradual cycle that brings me more fully into God's light and love.
What a beautiful life I've been given. Yay.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
"If you don't have something nice to say...
...shut the fuck up." At least, that's what my dad used to say. Somehow I have found a third foot to put in my mouth. Not enough sleep? Miserable from my aching arm? Repressed aggression? Perhaps, by blogging I'm gradually uncapping a voice I've buried for the sake of being a "good" mommy, friend, sister, teacher,etc. I don't know, but I'm feeling a bit guilty for things said and some mercifully unsaid today.
Though I'd much rather be sunshine, rainbows, hope, and happiness all the time, the darkside is never a stone's throw away. She is so much funnier, too. That onery part adds ballast to an imbalanced personality. It's not my intention to be mean, but Pollyanna needs a break sometimes.
I think I need some more regular outlets for being a little nasty. Just a little nasty. None of my old behaviors really appeal though. Drinking my face off leads to hangovers, embarrasment, and/or regret. Besides, moderation is so much more enjoyable. That one night in Vegas doesn't count. Smoking is gross, expensive, and not all that rewarding. At one time, recreational sex might have been a good stress reliever, but promiscuity impedes the process of entering into a loving, long-term relationship, which would be on my to-do list if I had a clue what one of those looked like. Drugs have never interested me; I'm too old and guilt-prone for fighting; and spending gobs of money on toys, clothes, or shoes just seems pointless.
Ok, I know turning things over to God solves everything, but in this case I don't see anything specific to turn over. Life is great...on paper anyway. Hmm, perhaps there is a long meditation in my future to open this up to the only entitiy that can fix me...Chris Martin. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jBEYyHGbwto&feature=related <---- In my top 10 of all-time favorites. I can't listen to it with out imagining what it would be like. This one is good, too, but for opposite reasons: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FdD6RMICpfg
Any suggestions or advice, readers? Or should I say Princess, Deanne, and Mitchell. I'm not saying I'll take it, but I really like input.
Though I'd much rather be sunshine, rainbows, hope, and happiness all the time, the darkside is never a stone's throw away. She is so much funnier, too. That onery part adds ballast to an imbalanced personality. It's not my intention to be mean, but Pollyanna needs a break sometimes.
I think I need some more regular outlets for being a little nasty. Just a little nasty. None of my old behaviors really appeal though. Drinking my face off leads to hangovers, embarrasment, and/or regret. Besides, moderation is so much more enjoyable. That one night in Vegas doesn't count. Smoking is gross, expensive, and not all that rewarding. At one time, recreational sex might have been a good stress reliever, but promiscuity impedes the process of entering into a loving, long-term relationship, which would be on my to-do list if I had a clue what one of those looked like. Drugs have never interested me; I'm too old and guilt-prone for fighting; and spending gobs of money on toys, clothes, or shoes just seems pointless.
Ok, I know turning things over to God solves everything, but in this case I don't see anything specific to turn over. Life is great...on paper anyway. Hmm, perhaps there is a long meditation in my future to open this up to the only entitiy that can fix me...Chris Martin. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jBEYyHGbwto&feature=related <---- In my top 10 of all-time favorites. I can't listen to it with out imagining what it would be like. This one is good, too, but for opposite reasons: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FdD6RMICpfg
Any suggestions or advice, readers? Or should I say Princess, Deanne, and Mitchell. I'm not saying I'll take it, but I really like input.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Both hands on the keyboard
I should have started blogging earlier. It would have helped me keep from wringing Cassie's neck. I'm having a hard time believing we share genetic code. What happened?
After dropping Sonja off at play practice, Cass and I went grocery shopping, mostly for stuff for her to take hunting tomorrow. Things were going well, she'd only ran into me with the cart two or three times and hadn't thrown too big of a fit when I said no to the six hundredth thing she asked for. With arms full off chili and soup cans, I turned around to discover she and the cart were gone. "Cassie? Caaaaassie? Cassandra, dear? CASSIE!!!" After extensive looking, I find her in the greeting card isle looking at birthday cards.
"What are you doing? Where's the cart? My purse was in there."
"Nothing. Looking at cards for me." Her birthday is next Friday, 12 years young. "You know, Mom, you can just buy me a phone or give me a couple hundred dollars." This from the girl who recently asked for an advance on her allowance to buy me a birthday present but then used the money to buy herself a book. It's the thought that counts, and at least it was a book and not heroin, but I can't believe she is completely oblivious to other people's feelings. Except when she isn't.
Miss Cheeks also loves to tell me how much fun drama is. Whenever she can, she likes to tell so and so what so and so said and then gleefully watch them fight. Cass plays the reorganization of trios into diodes game like others play World of Warcraft. "It lets me know who is popular and important." How do I not choke her????
Don't get me started on how boy crazy she is. She averages about three life-crippling crushes a week. When the object of her affections starts to pay attention to her, she switches her focus to one who isn't interested so she can pine.
"What's wrong with me, Mother?" Bod hoo hoo.
"I don't know, Honey. I really don't know." This cannot be the fruit of my womb. Sigh.
Cassie's sense of humor--she tells a confusing story which only she laughs at, then immediately she tells the story of telling the last story and laughing. To this, she laughs even harder and starts in on the third incomprehensible rendition of the same story. To her credit, by the time she is rolling on the floor with tears running out of her eyes, confused bystanders are laughing at her spastic behavior...hmmm, guess we do have a little bit in common.
Her antics wouldn't hurt so much if I didn't love her to pieces. On the one hand I want to stop her from creating situations that cause herself and others to suffer. I want to stop her rapid cycle of snotty pride and crushing self-loathing. I'd like to convince her how valuable her love, forgiveness, and generosity can be. On the other, I know it is her life to live and learn from. While I can dole out circumstances that make certain behaviors unrewarding, I can't actually stop her from doing anything. All I can do is watch and hold out my towel of unconditional love to wrap her in when life soaks her. Momming hurts.
Think about feeling this way for 6,872,245,726 people. Sorry for my own childish antics, God.
After dropping Sonja off at play practice, Cass and I went grocery shopping, mostly for stuff for her to take hunting tomorrow. Things were going well, she'd only ran into me with the cart two or three times and hadn't thrown too big of a fit when I said no to the six hundredth thing she asked for. With arms full off chili and soup cans, I turned around to discover she and the cart were gone. "Cassie? Caaaaassie? Cassandra, dear? CASSIE!!!" After extensive looking, I find her in the greeting card isle looking at birthday cards.
"What are you doing? Where's the cart? My purse was in there."
"Nothing. Looking at cards for me." Her birthday is next Friday, 12 years young. "You know, Mom, you can just buy me a phone or give me a couple hundred dollars." This from the girl who recently asked for an advance on her allowance to buy me a birthday present but then used the money to buy herself a book. It's the thought that counts, and at least it was a book and not heroin, but I can't believe she is completely oblivious to other people's feelings. Except when she isn't.
Miss Cheeks also loves to tell me how much fun drama is. Whenever she can, she likes to tell so and so what so and so said and then gleefully watch them fight. Cass plays the reorganization of trios into diodes game like others play World of Warcraft. "It lets me know who is popular and important." How do I not choke her????
Don't get me started on how boy crazy she is. She averages about three life-crippling crushes a week. When the object of her affections starts to pay attention to her, she switches her focus to one who isn't interested so she can pine.
"What's wrong with me, Mother?" Bod hoo hoo.
"I don't know, Honey. I really don't know." This cannot be the fruit of my womb. Sigh.
Cassie's sense of humor--she tells a confusing story which only she laughs at, then immediately she tells the story of telling the last story and laughing. To this, she laughs even harder and starts in on the third incomprehensible rendition of the same story. To her credit, by the time she is rolling on the floor with tears running out of her eyes, confused bystanders are laughing at her spastic behavior...hmmm, guess we do have a little bit in common.
Her antics wouldn't hurt so much if I didn't love her to pieces. On the one hand I want to stop her from creating situations that cause herself and others to suffer. I want to stop her rapid cycle of snotty pride and crushing self-loathing. I'd like to convince her how valuable her love, forgiveness, and generosity can be. On the other, I know it is her life to live and learn from. While I can dole out circumstances that make certain behaviors unrewarding, I can't actually stop her from doing anything. All I can do is watch and hold out my towel of unconditional love to wrap her in when life soaks her. Momming hurts.
Think about feeling this way for 6,872,245,726 people. Sorry for my own childish antics, God.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
People of heart
The best way to lead is by good example. Big thank you going out to Johnny Stallings for voluntarily driving from Portland to Umatilla once a week to facilitate a dialogue group at TRCI. He just directed sixteen inmates in the best rendition of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" I've seen. Also, thank you to Nancy Scharbach for designing many of the costumes and the Portland Opera house for loaning the rest. It takes a lot of talent to deck out a guy as Titania, Queen of the Fairies, or Tom Snout "The Wall." Their compassion and generosity spread like waves in a pond. The last show is this Saturday. For more information on Mr. Stallings' work on the inside go to http://www.openheartsopenminds.net/ The difference he is making in these men's lives is undeniable.
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