Happy Lent....and I mean it. ~~~Revised~~~

I revise this Blog Post nearly every year.  Of all the things I've written it is probably one of my favorite pieces.  It seems doubly appropriate this year since Ash Wednesday will be falling in the same week that has been scheduled to celebrate Random Acts of Kindness (one of my pet causes).  I ask those of you who do not believe as I do to refrain from discounting my beliefs in this post and instead take my message as it stands.  Religion or no... Lent the way I envision it is still a wonderful practice.

I’m not Catholic, most of my family is though, so every year I find myself pondering and practicing Lent in some form or another. As a teen and younger adult I found the whole idea stupid. I have never been big into self-denial and most of the things that people seem to be giving up *for Lent* appear to me to be self serving and usually things they ought to give up anyway.

Swearing. Now there’s one I’ve done. Picked it right back up too. Smoking....oh the failures I’ve seen here.....the last several years I gave up fast-food. Not because I thought Micky D’s made me less spiritual but because I gain a few pounds in my Winter hibernation and Lent is as good a reason as any to go on a diet. Two birds with one stone.  I'm practical that way.  I’ll do that again this year, but I’m not even going to try to convince anyone it is for Lent. It is to better serve my vanity and ego. It’s a diet.

Most Catholics give up meat on Friday and only eat fish (which I still consider meat....it is, after all, animal flesh). I’ll do that too, but not because its Lent or because its Friday....how about because I LIKE fish and its healthy and low in calories...and its going to be on sale everywhere. Once again, its self-serving.

I also started practicing "niceness" during Lent several years ago. Not everyday kind of niceness, but the go-out-of-your-way-to-be-nice kind of thing together with the fish and fast-food diet. I felt better. In an older blog I once asked this question of my readers and I’m asking it again today:

Can't we practice Lent

in joyful giving instead

of in meaningless sacrifice?

I think we can.

Don’t give up biting your nails. Give up an hour to read to a child.

Don’t give up chocolate. Make a daily visit to a lonely person and share the chocolate.

 Don’t stop swearing.  You can do more good cussing a blue streak while you fix something on your older neighbor lady's house.


Don’t give up yelling. Start smiling at strangers.

Don’t try to make yourself less bad, try to make yourself more good.

If we really look at the reason why we give up something for Lent it is because God gave up his only son for our salvation.

Maybe the point is not in the sacrifice but in the result. Salvation. Saving. Rescuing. God made the great sacrifice. Incidently, and I am sorry for those I will most certainly offend, God’s son is there with him now. Jesus sits at the right hand of the Father even now by the beliefs of most Christians.

What really happened is that God gave. It was the gift.... not the sacrifice that was the point of it all. God gave us the gift of a second chance at life everlasting. God gave us an instructor to show us the way. God left the Word to inspire us and to give us hope. God made our lives better.

Wouldn’t it be better to practice Lent by making the effort to improve the life of someone else? Isn’t that more fitting than giving up stuff we think is going to impress God? Isn’t a quiet act of kindness more pleasing to Him than our bragging about the stupid minor little self-serving sacrifices we make year after year?

 
Maybe...just maybe.... God created cocoa so we could enjoy a chocolate shake.... We don’t know that God wants us to give that up. Nowhere in the Bible does it say "thou shalt eschew chocolate". We do know that God wants us to be good to each other....

 

9 Don’t just pretend to love others. Really love them. Hate what is wrong. Hold tightly to what is good. 10 Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other. 11 Never be lazy, but work hard and serve the Lord enthusiastically. 12 Rejoice in our confident hope. Be patient in trouble, and keep on praying. 13 When God’s people are in need, be ready to help them. Always be eager to practice hospitality.

Romans 12:9-13 New Living Translation Bible

Maybe the real way to make ourselves better people is not to concentrate so much on the things we think make us less appealing and find a way to appeal to others in ways that really mean something.

That’s how I am going to practice Lent. I’d rather give back than give up. Its easier, and I feel better about it. Yep....its still self-serving.

 

I H8 TXTNG

I really hate this texting stuff going on now between men and women.  Seriously.  I have friends that actually feel *love* for persons that are 95% wishful thinking put into text messages.  These same friends come to me crying.

Yeah real tears for the fake emotions and psuedo touches they get via sms.  Not even a smile or a voice to go along with them.

8-3-1  is short hand for *I love you* as in 8 letters, 3 words, and one meaning.  First thing ladies....no he freaking did NOT just make that up for you.  He didn't make up the other code 1-4-3 either.  He's an idiot and you are a bigger idiot.  If he loved you he would, at the very least, whisper those words in your ear....preferably before or after kissing your lips and in a perfect world....after giving you several hours on a Friday or Saturday night.  He doesn't love you....I don't care how many times he sends you the saved message GM 1-4-3 CU Soon.


If he only says he loves you in ways that other people can't witness it.  He doesn't.  In fact he doesn't call you because he doesn't want anyone to notice him talking to you.  Those other women just might ask questions.  Those baby-mama's are not big on sharing.  This is a way of  keeping things quiet.

If he texts you that he wishes he were with you when he could be with you if he wished.....he's pretty much lieing.

If he texts you that he misses you and yet he's never makes an effort to see you....well those actions are not just speaking louder than words they are trying to slap your face.

If he answers your txts at ungodly hours in the morning...he probably has to sneak his phone into the bathroom to text you so the wife or girlfriend doesn't notice.

yeah...I do think you are stupid.  I don't want to, but anyone who thinks they can have a phone-in relationship and there be an actual future in it is not the brightest bulb in the pack.

I have a standard no texting except in an emergency policy.  My reasons are really good.  I figure if a man really wants to talk to me he will find his voice somehow ----and if he loved me....I'd like to think he could come up with a more original way to get the message across than 8-3-1.....

Besides....i'm NOT Stupid.

Conjugating Time

I'm a forward thinker. I've always been the one who wondered what things meant in future tense. I don't think that's a bad thing so long as it isn't taken to extremes.

It is bad though, when it prevents one from learning from the past or enjoying the present.

Today matters and yesterday mattered too. I think it is good to remain as balanced as you can. To appreciate the moment rather than to wonder about what a moment means.

This all goes along with my focus on clarity.

To have a clear vision of what is true, we must not just look ahead, but look around and behind to see the whole picture.

I've concentrated so much on the fore and aft at times, I am blind to what is all around me.

I am surrounded by friends and family who love me and I need to appreciate them now. Not at a future time because future times may not occur, and not just to rehash past fun times when we could be creating new memories.

Life is good right now. I plan to enjoy each moment.

What's it all mean?

I found this so fascinating that I am posting it on all my blogs. Seriously. Answer the question at the end if you want....I'm interested on your take on this. What's it all mean?

I am exceptional....but not the exception

  I am exceptional.  At least I was. I should be still. I could be still.  I am exceptional but not the exception.


It happens a lot with a lot of people who break up after long term relationships and marriages, we forget who we could be without the anger and pain.

We all compensate a little differently. . I started looking for why a relationship wouldn't work instead of looking at what was right about them. Then I would analyse why it was really my fault and think of ways to hide my shame, including shifting the blame. I began to believe that fairy tales were for children and that I didn’t need anyone.

 Publicly I blamed them, internally I blamed me. Truthfully there is enough blame for everyone. What made me ever think so high of myself...that I should be the perfect one?  I am exceptional, truly we all are.....but even I don't believe it most of the time.


My dating problems are not even about “He’s just NOT that into you” . The kind of man I want isn’t *into me* because I haven’t been living out who I am…. I write in her voice sometimes and visit her life occasionally….but I sure haven’t been living that life recently. I remember who I am but I’ve forgotten how to be her.

That’s not true either….I’ve become too bored and lazy to be her. Sometimes, when success comes too easy, people become complacent.


That’s what I did. To paraphrase Greg Behrendt, I wasted my *pretty*.

I let other people take over my life, I tried to make them happy instead of doing what I needed to do for my kids and myself.


Where is this all coming from? Didn’t I seem fine the last time I wrote something here? Not to worry, I was and am.

 Its just I have had an epiphany.

This week I have read “He’s just NOT that into you no less than 6 times”. I have watched the movie 4 times over the last 2 days.

I’ve realized the truth.

I am exceptional. I am not the exception though. I don’t even want to be. I am the rule.

Clarity. The word of the year. This is what it means.

It means that I have to focus on me in order to be a better mother….daughter…..sister……friend….even employee.

It means that I will not allow the mere remote possibility of romance or even friendship to color my days or affect the way I live them. When I love myself, the way I deserve, I will be better able to love the people in my life the way they deserve to be loved.

It is impossible to give away what you don’t already have.   

The truth about my love life is that it isn’t just that he (take your pick which he) was not that into me…its been that I was NOT that into me. This doesn’t mean that I am going to be all self centered and me me me….. It means I realize that is what I have been doing. Wallowing in my misery. Comfortable in it. Too stubborn to be who I once was…..who I should be.

Its so much easier to pretend everything is some guy’s fault instead of looking at where I am screwing up. Its so much easier to pretend I am satisfied with life as it is than to do the actual work it takes to change it back to what I want it to be.

I was too embarrassed to ask for help or support before. Need was just another word for failure. I lied when I say I don’t need anyone. I can’t make things work on my own.

I am not superhuman after all.....

I'm never going to be even close to perfect.....

 I’m not the exception…. I am the rule.

Clarity. Epiphany. Oh I like those words.

Its time I stop living up and living down to other’s expectations of me. Its time I live up to my own.

Belief vs. Behavior

I lost a friend today or at least someone I thought was a friend.

It was stupid really. He was goading me about my beliefs because he is a die-hard atheist. Obviously I am not. I tried very hard to be diplomatic and even agree with him on several points with reference to organized religion. It was supposed to be one of those "Free thought" conversations.

I should have known better. Instead of diplomacy he returned what I can only describe as rabid scorn.

He insulted my intelligence, my beliefs and insisted he could do a better job with humanity than God himself. "Loser" was the term he used to describe him.

I don't pretend to know all there is..... Who could? I don't know why bad things happen to good people. Bad things have happened to me too.... I don't blame God though. I blame the people who do these things.

He seems to think that men have done all good by themselves as well. As if we are responsible for our own creation.

I don't see it that way. The more I understand science the more I understand that there is more to it than that. I've personally experienced what even doctors considered miracles. Doctors are still scientists right? I should not have lived the day I was born and so many miracles since then. No scientific reason....it could be just dumb luck but the laws of probability say no. That is science too.

My point is I have very good reasons to believe the way I do.

Maybe he does too but I couldn't find it in the hatred and the blame he was vomitting at me.

He is entitled in these United States to be be free "from" religion just as I am entitled to be free to choose my own faith. I respect that.

What he is not free to do is insult me and try to engage me in a battle of wits....on this or any other planet.

I've chosen not to have this person in my life. Not because he is atheist. I have several atheist friends.

I've stopped being his friend because he is an asshole.

Have any of you been put in that kind of position?

My Mother's Mother

A week ago today my family and I celebrated the life of my Grandmother. I think I've finally come to terms with everything....

I was asked to speak there and I did. In dreams I was overcome by the spirits of first my grandmother and then my grandfather. In fact, I wrote it quickly after the first dream....but the dream I had the next night made it clear that it wasn't quite finished. Grandpa always said if you are going to do a thing....do it right. He loved my Grandma too much to allow me to neglect certain aspects of her personality...most notably her damnable determination. Both frustrating and admirable while she lived, I completely left it out until the second dream.

Below is the memorial speech I gave in honor of my Grandma...I'm not really sure if I wrote it. It is pretty much exactly as I recited it with one small exception...the minister who spoke before me also stated he felt touched by my (very very determined) Grandmother and felt that she wanted him to include the same poem she directed me to say...so I didn't repeat in my speech it but I left it in the version below. LOL....guess I should have tried to go first....

Grandma always said I had a habit of using $20.00 words for a $5.00 message. I'll try to keep this on the cheap side. There aren't enough days in the year to share all the stories I would like to share or for you to share back anyway. I just want to give your memories a nudge and your heart a smile. I think that is all Grandma wants me to do anyway.

Some would say she had her ups and downs and no doubt she would say that too. I'm not here to talk so much about that. We've all had them. She handled them better than most.

As far as I've ever been concerned, she and Grandpa were the greatest influences in my life and the people that I want most to be like. They may not have been rich in dollars, but their lives were more valuable than all the gold in the world. They were plain people who could have had more for themselves if they had been willing to do less for others. They chose to enrich others instead. In the end, thier legacies to us are far more valuable than any money they could have left us. They were good people. We were truly blessed.

We are here to remember Grandma today and I guess what I'd like for us all to remember most is not that she died but that she really live, not quietly, not sorrowfully but loudly and boldly. Some would even say she was a bit of an eccentric. She'd like to hear them saying it too!.

She lived life on her terms and to her own satisfaction as much as I think any of us really can. In that way I like to think I'm a little bit like her. I think most of you are a bit like that too. As a matter of fact, I'd go so far as to say we are kind of known as that kind of family around these parts.

Waneta Rogers was an amazing woman. She was not much bigger than the leprachauns she tried to convince me still lived in Ireland. She dyed her hair bright red to give the world warning that she was a firebrand. She worked and played harder than men 4 times (not just twice) her size. Even so, she was completely feminine. She kept up her appearances and never let the world see her down. Grandma even dressed up and put make-up on before she went to the Salvation Army store (which she called the Sally-Shop). She mended and restyled her purchases so well that people would often comment on her fashion style and try to get her to reveal where she found such lovely pieces. She told the truth, but was seldom believed about it.

Grandma was a capable woman. There wasn't any person or any situation that she couldn't handle effectively. She could manage my siblings, my cousins and me all at the same time with a single look and she could make everything right in the world with one sweet smile. Heaven help the poor soul that would try to harm one of us. She could handle them too!

Let us remember, with a glad heart, the woman who defied convention and married an Indian when that just wasn't done. Let us remember the woman who tamed that wild giant of a man too. She never judged people on something so minor as the color of their skin, she made friends based on the content of their hearts. She was a supportive wife, a loving mother, a thoughtful sister, a wonderful friend, and the kind of grandmother that all children wish for. She was known as quite the character too! You never knew for sure what she would say or do next but it was pretty hard to be bored around her. She was interesting all the time. I don't think I ever heard her use the word *bored*. I don't think she knew it. I'm pretty sure she never was.

I'm also sure she wouldn't be pleased if she were to look down on us and see us crying or whining about our loss today. You all know that she didn't like cry babies or complainers much. I should know, when I was a child I was one. She had a few colorful sayings for that type of behavior. *Youknowwhat or get off the pot!*. If you don't like it then change it. Seriously, Grandma could have written Nike ads. Just do it! It was impossible to be wishy-washy around her. She simply would not stand for it.

Lord help you if you ever said the word *can't* in her presence. Actually to this, I can almost hear her reminding me that *the Lord helps them that helps themselves!*

I can honestly say that without this not-so-gentle wisdom from Grandma, I would not be who I am today. Chances are neither would any of you.

So lets not cry today. If you must shed a tear let it be a tear of joy for being so lucky to have been a part of her life. Lets celebrate her! Lets be grateful we have such a wonderful legacy in her memory. Grandma was a fireball! She was an oddity! She was freakin hilarious most of the time! She was also courageous and kind. She was smart, especially in politics and current events and plain spoken. She never pretended to be anyone she wasn't. Of all the people I've ever known, she was the most comfortable in her own skin. She was true to herself. We should all aspire to be more like her in that way. She was a practical woman. She never wasted a thing and was recycling items long before it became the *thing to do*. Waste not. Want not. She had her priorities and she lived by them. Family came first, then friends, then strangers. She never cared about any material thing. She only cared about people. Especially her people. Especially us.

She was the first one I ever heard say *Dynamite comes in small packages*. Truer words were never spoken.

We don't want to forget her people watchers because it was a really warped sense of humor that came up with that one. I swear I was afraid to misbehave because I just knew that Grandma could see us through all those magical (as she told me) eyes.

Remember the unusual knick-knacks and collectors items she called dust catchers, but couldn't part with. That's because we kept giving them to her. It was never the decorations she liked, it was having little pieces of us around that she couldn't give up.

We don't want to forget that she would help out her neighbors and welcome strangers either. She defended her family against any danger that came and never backed down from evil. She was something special. When she had a word or two to say, EF Hutton listened.

Let us remember those gentle hands that could give us a man size whoopin or an angel's hug depending upon our needs at the time. Let us remember her eyes crinkled in laughter or touching our soul in the few tears she shed. Don't you forget that stubborn chin either! When she was right she was right.

I won't forget her determination. When she couldn't drive any longer, she took up riding that adult size tricycle, despite the fact that it really was way too big for her. She was something else! If one solution didn't work, she always found another. Long before people ever said the words *failure is not an option* she was living them.

Some would say our life is less now that she is gone....not me. My life is *more* because she lived. My life is more because every lesson she ever taught me comes up again and again. She made sure I had the right answers. How can I cry about her death when I still feel her life in me? I still see evidence of her in my children. I can look around and see evidence of her existence in each of us here. When I look at my daughter, Grandma's eyes smile back at me. I still see her. I still feel the love she gave us. Its that voice in my head that tells me in very colorful ways to not give up when things get tough. When I fall I can hear Grandma snickering and telling me that my backside isn't going to do me much good sitting on the ground like that. Her invisible arms still comfort me in my sadness. Her wisdom keeps me from being too hypocritical. I hear her laughter everytime I see some really bizarre knick knack. I think of her and she lives. Actually I don't even need to think of her first, not when I can see her so plainly in your faces.

I know she lives for you too..

So I don't want to see any of you shedding too many tears.

You know Grandma didn't like crybabies.
　
Someone once wrote these words, I'm not sure who.....but I think Grandma felt this way....
　
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free


Miss me a little - but not too long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that we once shared
Miss me - but let me go


For this is a journey that we must all take
And each must go alone
It's all a part of the Master's plan
A step on the road to home


When you are lonely, and sick of heart
Go to the friends we know
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds
Miss me - but let me go

　

Thank you.

Reflections about Grandma

I can't write about my Grandma and not write about myself and the other women in my family. Somehow we are one and the same. I have often written about the women in my family. We outnumber the men, I think its probably about 3 to 1 normally in our genetic history, though sometimes it seems closer to 4 to 1, my siblings are 4 to 1. I have a saying, *We don't have an x gene, we have a capital X gene.*

We women absolutely adore the men, they are a jovial bunch! They kind of have to be, a sense of humor is a must when you are surrounded by wildly passionate females. The women are all strong. At risk of insulting the men, we are the strongest gender in our family. We never give up and we are the ones who inspire or force the men to become the leaders that they usually are. Even my mildest female relative, my baby sister Rhonda, who I've often mentioned, is a handful. No one else but me would dare call her mild. We all avoid confronting each other. We know that we are formidable. Nothing is more hair raising than to watch two women in our family disagree. Personally I'd rather fight a thug from the streets.

This sisterhood is passed, it seems, down the maternal line as well. My sisters and I, despite the differences we note from time to time, are really quite alike. We have the soul and the passion of our mother and our maternal aunt. Our mother and our aunt had the soul of our grandmother, who from what I understand inherited her spirit from her mother, whom I never knew. We all may have bits and pieces of our fathers in us, they pass on beliefs and kindness to us. But the truth of it all is that without this *never say die, never give up, never give in* spirit in our female lineage, I think our family would have died out during the potato famine in Ireland. That is when another woman, down the female line, raised her numerous siblings and made it to America, her siblings in tow. The next generation of females, which include my spirited daughter Celia, are even stronger.

On the outside and to outsiders we may appear to be socially acceptable and appear to be ladies most of the time. Appearances can be deceiving and so can we. The women of our family never needed the women's liberation movement. We never needed a law to tell us that we are as good or as capable as a man or to demand and receive justice in a man's world. All we ever needed was recent family history. We usually outwardly conformed to the social rules of history while breaking numerous conventions privately. Unless we didn't care a flying uknowwhat, then we would break the rules and damn the consequences. History repeats itself alot in my family.

My Grandma skipped school one day and married a Cherokee boy. When she married him interacial marriage was illegal in some states and unacceptable everywhere, especially in her father's house. Native Americans were in the same boat that all other dark races were then. To say that my Grandpa was a wild one would be an understatement. He was huge too. He was a golden gloves boxer who stood over 6'. My Grandma was about 4'11" and small framed to boot. To say she tamed him would be a misstatement. She directed his energy though. Because of who she was, he became who he was. There was more power and intelligence in her small form than in any man he ever met, I'm sure. He was wise enough to note that. He never treated her as *the little woman*. My Grandpa was the bravest man I ever met, but he knew better. The things I remember most about their relationship are that passion and love were ever present. I don't remember ever seeing any indifference there, like I see in most couples after a time. I remember, even while I was just a young girl barely curious about sexuality, that they were very romantic towards each other. Very touchy-feely. They argued from time to time too, but even that was passionate and full of love. When they did argue, it seemed as if two sides of the same person were reflecting on the wrong that the feet had done to the hand when the body fell down. I used to love to watch them make thier morning coffee when ever I stayed there. It was like the whole thing was a choreographed dance. Grandma would take the pot apart and Grandpa would reach for the coffee. She would fill the pot with water and he would lift it out of the sink.... It was a beautiful sight. Always, when I think of what I wanted life to be like for me, that was it. To make coffee together like we were one person.

Grandma was a beautiful woman, but she didn't really care. I remember convincing her to wear more glamorous make-up in her middle 50's once. She humored me and wore it all day, but I knew she thought it was ludicrous. I thought she looked beautiful. Most of the time she wore nothing more than a little powder and lipstick. She did like jewelry, especially earings. She used to tell me I was naked without them. Its funny....she didn't care about how she looked so much, but she did want to put on a good face and maybe a little bling bling for the world to see. She was naturally a platinum blonde. She dyed her hair red for as long as I can remember. I asked her about that once. It seems that when my handsome grandfather was at his peak as a boxer he quite naturally enjoyed the attentions (without cheating in any form) of the women who flocked to him a bit too much. Grandma would, of course, get rid of those ladies in short order but she began dying her hair red to give them (probably him too) warning. I can only assume it worked. If Grandpa was admiring the ladies, I know I never saw it. Smart guy. She wasn't really jealous though, it was more of a pride thing. Those women should never have dared to approach HER husband. It wouldn't surprise me to learn she had actually kicked a few asses to tell you the truth. I think I would have. Ok truth be told, I have.

She was always about family. She loved her man, she loved her children and she loved their offspring. We never doubted her love, though there are times we questioned why. I'm not writing about the failures though. We all have them. I am writing about the woman who loved anyway, even when some of us did not deserve it. She somehow made time for each of us. We all have wonderful stories about our one on one time with Grandma. She tried to be wise, but she never spoke as eloquently as she lived. Grandpa was the talker, she was the doer. She used to make big Sunday friend chicken dinners and she would squeeze as much of her large family as possible into her tiny house. She seemed to live for the banter that went around the dinner table. I learned just as much from watching her do what needed to be done as I did listening to Grandpa speak about social issues. Her actions reflected his words. Grandma did not let important things go undone, she never let the unimportant cloud her vision. She was the essence of practicality. She paid attention to the whole picture, she didn't get stuck on the details like the dreamers in our family. Grandma pulled us all together when we were trying to pull her in different directions. She was like a lighthouse. If we felt sad or confused, we could go to her and she would busy us with tasks and we could think uninterupted. My mother has been growing more and more like her these past years. Trying to keep the warring factions at bay, trying to spank the dreamers among us back into reality. I feel kind of sorry for Mom. For having such tiny feet, Grandma left big shoes to fill. Mom is the matriarch now and the family is bigger than Grandma's, probably even wilder now. Grandma and Aunt Shirley are watching down on her I know, and will lend guidance through dreams, but my poor mother has a passionate bunch of women to guide and prepare for the next generation. It isn't easy. Not when we all have that bloodline of strong women. There's that capital X gene again for good or ill. I hope she can keep Grandma's sense of humor amidst it all. She's going to need it now.

I didn't mention my Grandma was funny did I? OMG! She was outrageous. Grandma would take us shopping at the local department store and go around sniffing toilet paper because she wanted to find the best smelling one. She would sniff loudly and pretend not to notice the other shoppers! Must be where I get the playing pranks on strangers thing. Another thing she would do at the store is let big stinkers, sometimes big loud stinkers and then loudly blame it on my siblings and me. "Tressa ANN what did YOU do?!?!" she would say as if she were disgusted and scolding me for my behavior. I would blush and get so angry and she would just chuckle all the way home until I was laughing with her even while I was praying to God none of my friends were there. I can remember her tricking me into annoying the neighbors with my off key clarinet playing by convincing me that I was so good she wanted the neighbors to know how much better her granchild was than their children and grandchildren! She did the same thing with me reading out loud. As a little girl she built up my ego so much that by the time I went in to get my tonsils out (4 years old) I had an attitude that commanded me to steal all the toys from the hospital play room. I then locked myself into the bathroom and refused to come out because I knew I deserved all those toys more than the other kids. When the nurses were finally able to restrain me (it took massive doses of sleep meds and a net over the crib they were trying to keep me in), I fell asleep ranting about how they could not do this to me and that I would tell my Grandma and she was going to be really mad because she said I looked just like Shirley Temple and was going to be a star some day. Yeah, Grandma could convince me of just about anything and she had a lot of fun doing just that.

There are lots of things I could say about her, she had the patience of a saint. She must have listened to the "Disco Duck" 100 times in a row one day because it was my favorite song at the time. She actually tried to learn to dance *the Hustle* from me. She let my friends spend the night and we painted knick knacks all day. She never told me to shut up (she whispered to mom to tell me though I am sure). She forgave almost anything. Her heart was always open for the love of her family. She wouldn't put up with shit out of any of us though. You haven't been told off until she got a hold of you. She was brave too. A year ago she tried to take on some neighborhood thugs while spending some time at my Mom's. They backed down. I bet she made them feel guilty about their own grandmothers. They probably hung their head in shame just like I did the few times she felt the need to straighten me out. She was protective of us all. I remember when I was about 13 or so, she caught my sister and me talking to boys and first she chased them off with a switch and then she chased us home with the same one. She loved that we were all such pretty girls but she thought we shouldn't trust boys. Wise woman sometimes. When she moved back to her hometown for a while I used to write her from time to time. I remember once I thought it would be funny if I corrected her spelling and grammar. Ok I was probably showing off too. I only did that once! Trust me, I was TOLD. She used to say I used $20.00 words for a $5.00 message, I think I finally understood what she meant sometime in my early 30's and I toned it down a bit. People liked me more after that.

I loved my Grandma. I wasn't good about visiting her as an adult. I will regret that forever I guess. I bet she would tell me not to worry about it though. She knew I loved her and that was enough. She was enough for me.

Nostalgia

If auld aquaintance......

I've had a migraine since Wednesday. Seriously. Bad Bad Bad. I'm left work early. I still have not received a New Years Eve Midnight Kiss in my life. (I'm thinking this is an omen) I finally started feeling better (but still kind of tired) a couple of hours ago.

I had dropped Walter off at the College Football Hall of Fame. His Winter hang out since there isn't an enclosed skatepark anymore and laid down for a nap. When he called at 4:30 for pick-up...I woke up, feeling refreshed and singing moonshadow....Seriously....*i'm being followed by a moon shadow...moon shadow moon shadow.



In the dream I was 11 again. Snuggled up against my favorite (and missing) Aunt. Wearing my Native American braids tied with leather just like hers.... As my aunt softly strummed her folk guitar she taught me the words to this song. It was a happy song to sing when I was sad or confused. She loved me and I her. For reasons I won't share I haven't seen her since around that time. It was the most awful year of my childhood for losses....that was also the year my Grandfather passed on. The thing is, she was one of the most influential people in my life. I am sure this memory has a special meaning for me now....not really hidden either as I contemplate my recent moods....

Moon Shadow
Cat Stevens

I'm being followed by a moon shadow
moon shadow-moon shadow
leaping and hopping on a moon shadow
moon shadow-moon shadow
and if I ever lose my hands
lose my plough, lose my land
oh, if I ever lose my hands
oh, if...I won’t have to work no more
and if I ever lose my eyes
If my colours all run dry
yes, if I ever lose my eyes
oh if …I won't have to cry no more.
yes, I'm being followed by a moon shadow
moon shadow - moon shadow
leaping and hopping on a moon shadow
moon shadow - moon shadow
and if I ever lose my legs
I won't moan and I won't beg
Oh if I ever lose my legs
oh if...I won't have to walk no more
And if I ever lose my mouth
all my teeth, north and south
yes, if I ever lose my mouth
oh if...I won't have to talk..............
Did it take long to find me
I ask the faithful light
Ooh did it take long to find me
And are you going to stay the night
I'm being followed by a moon shadow
moon shadow - moon shadow
leaping and hopping on a moon shadow
moon shadow - moon shadow moon shadow -
moon shadow moon shadow - moon shadow

She had moon shadows following her....and I have mine. Its all about questioning your life. About living life with joy despite the constant need for answers and worries plaguing you. I've been thinking about running away again. I'm so good at that. Worries about my youngest child, the economy here, the changes happening at work, the crime, and being in a dead-end relationship. I don't want to be alone though. Those are my moon shadows.... Blocking the light. Still as the year I concentrate on Hope comes to a close this month I find that hope is ever present. I think I've got a real grip on it now. The dream helped but I think I would have reached sanity again....As soon as Spring came.

I'm not going anywhere. I will deal with whatever I have to deal with....

Let the light shine down.

Not a nice girl

Why is it that we women feel the constant need to be *nice* all the time?

I have found recently that all being *nice* does is cause me to live according to other's standards and not my own.

Why can't it be *nice* to do what I want, believe what I want and not pay for other's screw ups. Who died and left me responsible?

While I still intend to be kind.... I'm not going to be nice about it.

It is not my job to clean up everyone else's messes. Not my obligation to pay for someone else's sins.

If someone does something that harms me or mine intentionally, I have every right to be angry.

If I am insulted I intend to stand up for myself. Heaven help the fool who lies about me or spreads another rumor.

Its no longer my position in life to be the CHIEF BRINGER-OF-HAPPINESS or to be in the COMPANY-OF-MISERY.

I am not going to feel guilty because some things come easier or at least seem to come easier to me than to others, I'm just grateful that I have been blessed. ......and when I do something really wonderfully, I'm not going to say "it's nothing" because its SOMETHING. I generally work my butt off.

I deserve the accolades!

I'm not going to apologize for being smart.

Why should I? I'm not sorry.

I'm not going to let other's steal credit for my ideas or worse, give them credit for my ideas to make their sorry egos feel better.

In short, I'm going to start acting a bit like some guys I know.

I'm not a *nice* girl.

I am a fully grown and fully capable woman.

A simpler time

I go on and on about my complexities. It's not bragging, its whining.

I would have been better born in a much earlier time.

I have morals. I hate all the pressure on women today. I hate what we are turning men into. I hate that kids are running the world.

I, believe it or not, get sick of technology. I'm scared to leave my door unlocked.Yet--- I'm always wired. I have a cell phone I need to keep on my person at all times. Its not just for my children. Its for everyone. Even my privacy is haunted with the specter of being needed immediately. Employers today may not say so, but in truth, we are *on call* 24-7. Family and friends used to drop in on each other for coffee. Now we just speak through headsets at each other and make empty promises to *get together soon*. My best friend and I were doing that yesterday. We live about 5 miles apart and we haven't seen each other for a year! (I do intend to remedy that). When we were kids and teens we couldn't see each other enough. Our phone calls were *I'll be over in 10 minutes*. I need to take ten minutes to hassle her in person one day soon.

I've been working hard on simplifying my life.

I've almost quit driving. I live downtown where I work, so that wasn't too bad. I've lowered my housekeeping standards so I can spend that time talking with my neighbors. I have quit working at a high stress job major time job for a different position that allows me a little less responsibility and time flexibility. I've ditched a lot of possessions. I've learned to love paper plates and sandwiches over 3 course meals.

Life is too short. I know this because I know why I feel this way. My cousin and one of my best friends taught me this.

My cousin died at 46, the same age I am now. My other best friend died when she was 37. Neither one was expected to die. I think my cousin just exhausted herself. She took care of everyone. When she got sick it was one thing after another, brain aneurysms, cancers....everything. One day she and I were tipping back the *slippery nipples* talking about our hyper lives and laughing like we enjoyed it. A year later she was dead. That was Susie.

Sharon D. was much the same. She was one of those working soccer moms. President of the PTA. Involved in Church and community more than anyone I've ever known. She did it all. I wanted to be like her. Practically idolized the woman except that in order to deal with it all she got into the uppers/downers habit. One morning she got up and fell down. Her young children found her in a heap next to the bed. The girl who taught me how to dance and helped me run-away from home wasn't here anymore.

I think for a while I was trying to live for them. Trying to be like them. Lately I think that if I don't simplify my life I am going to be exactly like them. Its not worth living a modern life if its killing us off.

Truth is I'm nothing like them.

I somehow fell into a career-girl mold without really trying.

I don't believe in equal rights.

                   I believe men and women are different, not equal.

To me its like apples and oranges...together we make a Hell of a fruit salad, but we are very different and offer very different virtues to life.

We can't be equal because we cannot be compared to each other in a consistent fashion.

I want to live my Grandma's life. She's still kickin' by the way, witty and smart. Nearly 100. She lived naturally. That's the word. NATURAL. She fits into her world. I want to fit into mine. She loved one man until he died. Well actually she still loves him. She never considered it subservient to do things for him, she realized all he did for her. It didn't make her feel dependent to allow him to open a door. He was bigger, it was just common courtesy. She worked and kept the home fires burning. He worked more and kept the outer world (yards, cars and social events) in line. THEY WORKED.

                     That's the ticket. Whatever works.

                                                I don't want to have it all anymore.

                                                                      I just want what works.

Raising Kids or Raising Hell?

I believe in giving kids a lot of freedom but it must be weighted at the same time with restriction. Absolute freedom will not make your children love you... It may however make your children unloveable to others. Use your own judgment... draw a line... It doesn't have to be my line... but know why you draw it, and don't let your child cross it. I had limits.. I used the word "No" when necessary while still giving my children the freedom to use temporary color (like pink) on her hair...to allow a pierced ear (on my elder son) and to grow long hair. Parents you can give your child freedom... but allowing anarchy to reign in your home is a big mistake. Remember the children you raise will one day most likely be responsible for decisions that not only affect you and their possible future families but the world in general. Please give them a lesson in restraint once in a while! EVERYBODY ELSE I fail my children everyday, just like Everybody Else's parents do. I buy them items they shouldn't have because Everybody Else's mother does. I let them go places Everybody Else's father lets Everybody go. They want to be like Everybody Else. In this society, if your child is not like Everybody Else, neither you nor your child will be accepted. Everybody is in charge here. No one is brave enough to take Everybody Else to task or to enforce the rules that would remove the little monster from power. Everybody Else has unlimited access to cable T.V., and internet connections. Everybody Else has a CD player and is allowed to listen to the profane lyrics that pass for music today. Everybody Else has his own car and stays out as late as he wants. He chooses his own friends, his parents trust his judgment better than their own. Everybody's folks seem to believe that discipline unduly stifles his creativity. Frankly, Everybody is spoiled. Everybody Else's parents let their children dress in ways that express their individuality, no skirt is too short, no shirt too revealing to be worn. Everybody Else's baby brother is wearing "colors" and his big sister wears dark gothic styles with a small silver chain running from her eyebrow piercing and other piercings all the way to her naval ring. Everybody favors pants loose enough to show his undershorts, he has a skull tattooed on his arm. Everybody's parents understand it is only a phase that the kids go through. Everybody's parents think I have a problem because "you can't judge a book by its cover". Wonder if the publishing houses know that? At school dances all music is allowed because if it isn't, Everybody's mother complains of losing freedoms or of being forced to bear discrimination (why is having discriminating tastes such a "bad" thing?) or that such language is usual and normal and should, therefore, be allowed. Everybody Else does it so that makes it ok. What ever happened to "good taste" and "being classy"? My mother used to say that she never met Everybody Else's mother but she was glad she didn't have to raise this kid because that child was headed toward unimaginable terrors, troubles and certain death. I never was able to do what Everybody Else could do, never had the things that Everybody Else had. The few times I tried to be like Everybody Else in misbehavior, my parents came down hard on me. Funny, the Everybody Elses that I used to quote have pretty much lived up to my mother's expectations. We want to give our children the freedom we never had, but instead give them chaos. We want them to have free expression and adventure, but it somehow turns into foolhardiness. We want to give them the value of a worldly education....but we're finding out that knowledge is worthless without comprehension. I plan to be a lot more like my own mother from now on and a lot less like Everybody Else's. I wish Everyone Else would do the same.

Hypocritical Parenting

I’ve run into some problems with kids and young adults lately. It’s got me thinking...asking questions about why things are the way they are.... If we don't approve of society, then why do we allow it to raise our children? Why is it that every time some kid flips out at school we rush to find someone to place the blame on? I know who is to blame. I looked in the mirror and there I found the one at fault. It is me. It is also you. We hide behind chaos and call it freedom. Freedom of religion, (freedom from religion), and freedom of speech. What we have here in the United States is chaos now. I have a hard time believing that this is what our God-respecting forefathers envisioned. Freedom of religion and freedom of speech are supposed to protect the honest expression of ideals and to institute tolerance of differences. It was not intended to assist in the proliferation of hate groups and pornography. In the 70's and early 80's, when most of today's parents grew up, one of the sayings of the day was "You are what you eat". It was true, at least in part. We are the essence of everything we put into our bodies spirits and minds. Substances enter our bodies from any of the 5 senses, not just taste, substance enters our consciousness from every manner. We are allowing our children to be poisoned. Most of the time we give them the poison ourselves. We've forgotten how to be parents. I'm no better than you are. It isn't easy to tell your child no. We feel guilty because we aren't home much. Then we "fix" it by working even more hours to make more money, so we can buy our kids more gifts, gifts they don't need and probably shouldn't have, because we feel so guilty about not being home. Maybe we need to quit working overtime, and spend some time with our children. We grew up during the great "pop psyche" era. We have been told so many times how terrible "bad feelings" are that we give-in to almost everything our children request to prevent them having any "bad feelings". We don't want to damage our children. Our parents, I'm discovering, were not wrong. Guilt serves a purpose. Shame serves a purpose. Even anger serves a purpose. Those are the emotions that spur a person to do better. To not allow our children to feel them is equivalent to taking away their conscience. It's time we give our children the benefit of feeling bad. It might do us all some good. When I was a child, my mother used to tell me that my behavior was a reflection of her. She was right. Right now we parents don't look so hot in the mirror I'm looking at.

A Relationship Contract

I wish that every relationship actually was a contractual covenant...with the why's and wherefores and henceforths all spelled out in painful half-latin legalese with fine print and signatures on every page....

I understand agreements and contracts. I love rules that can’t be broken.

I’d insist that there was stuff in it like "Must audibly say "I love you" twice everyday." "Must develop real relationships with each other’s children" "He will inflate the tires and she will do the dishes regularly" "Sexual relations to occur at least once per day and to include this that and the other thing, et.al...." We could spell out Kitchen rules and that grown children should grow up. Itemize our demands for child care duties and holiday entertaining. Divide the family obligations. Define boundaries. Set out Barbecue rules. Determine whether we buy Miracle Whip or Hellman's......

I’m sure you have the gist of it.

I used to believe in fairy tales....but I grew up.

I wish I were a child again. There were rules.

Soldiers

Veteran’s Day is not just a day off from work for some people. It's not a day to complain because banks and government offices are closed. It's not a day to bitch about a war you disagree with. It's not a day to bitch about the people who complain about the war you support. It is not about war. Veteran’s Day is about sacrifice. It is about heroes. It is about Freedom. Veteran’s Day is about loving others more than yourself.

This day is about men and women who leave their families behind to protect people they mostly don't know. It is about idealistic young men and women, barely past childhood, who believe that the greater good is more important than a single life. Veteran’s Day is about parents who have lost their children and children who have lost their parents in the effort to protect the freedom we enjoy.

Veteran’s Day is about being grateful to those who make the sacrifices that the rest of us can't or won't. To say thanks to those who fight for the innocent and defend our liberty. Veteran’s Day is about the Veterans.

"Here rests in honored glory, an American soldier known but to God." --inscription on the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington National Cemetery

THE THINGS THAT MAKE A SOLDIER GREAT
written by Edgar Guest

The things that make a soldier great and send him out to die,

To face the flaming cannon's mouth nor ever question why,

Are lilacs by a little porch, the row of tulips red,

The peonies and pansies, too, the old petunia bed,

The grass plot where his children play, the roses on the wall:

'Tis these that make a soldier great. He's fighting for them all.

'Tis not the pomp and pride of kings that make a soldier brave;

'Tis not allegiance to the flag that over him may wave;

For soldiers never fight so well on land or on the foam

As when behind the cause they see the little place called home.

Endanger but that humble street whereon his children run,

You make a soldier of the man who never bore a gun.

What is it through the battle smoke the valiant soldier sees?

The little garden far away, the budding apple trees,

The little patch of ground back there, the children at their play,

Perhaps a tiny mound behind the simple church of gray.

The golden thread of courage isn't linked to castle dome

But to the spot, where'er it be — the humblest spot called home.

And now the lilacs bud again and all is lovely there

And homesick soldiers far away know spring is in the air;

The tulips come to bloom again, the grass once more is green,

And every man can see the spot where all his joys have been.

He sees his children smile at him, he hears the bugle call,

And only death can stop him now — he's fighting for them all.

Dear Veterans,

Thank You.

Love,

U.S.