On a misty Spring day in March, I was just 15. Riding home from a church service along backroads with my parents. It was a misty grey day, cold, and lonely in the way that only Spring can be lonely. The green leaves on the branches of trees, tiny and barely there, so tenderly green that I ached inside with the very delicate beauty of them. And what was I doing? Gazing out of the car window wondering what it was like to really be loved and to really love...
So let's skip ahead a good 34 years later. On a sunny Spring day in my 49th March and the leaves, the tiny green leaves, so tiny and barely there, glimmering on the trees in the sunlight, so lovely they make me ache inside. And what am I thinking?
That we know nothing at 15 when we think life will be over when we've reached 30. That love is far more than anyone ever dared try to explain to me. That loving is more complicated than the sciences of nature and man put together. That sex can be far better and far more disappointing than you'd ever imagined when hormones were raging and emotions tumbling about like puppies in your soul. That spring comes again and again and is always a most welcome wondrous thing. That love does too.
And that this too shall go on and on...
Friday, March 21, 2008
Faux You or God Bless You!
Do you realize, on a day to day basis, how very many 'faux' things we come across? Plastic made to look like patent leather, fake fur to resemble the less politically correct real thing, fake smiles when a heart is damned near breaking, Tofu-rkey, faux taters, faux leather, faux friends....Oh the list goes on and on and on.
Why all the need to have faux anything? Why not just have the real thing and be done with it? Why do vegetarians, folks who claim that meat makes them sick want a fake piece of veggie meat? I mean, wasn't the point of vegetarianism (or is it veganism, forgive me for not being up on the correct terminology, being a carnivore myself I can't keep it straight) to not eat meat? Like the lo-carbers (and I have been one of these so no arrows being slung) desire to have faux potatoes or rice made from cooked cauliflower. Actually both are rather tasty, but it's the term 'faux taters' and 'faux rice' that bothered me no end. I couldn't have the real thing and in the case of rice at least didn't even want the real thing, so why go for faux?
And while we're at it, showing our age and unpolitical correctness, what is the deal with calling the inserts 'falsies' when faux breast might be more appropriate and certainly more up to date? Or is that just getting too freaky for everyone?
Faux you!
Why all the need to have faux anything? Why not just have the real thing and be done with it? Why do vegetarians, folks who claim that meat makes them sick want a fake piece of veggie meat? I mean, wasn't the point of vegetarianism (or is it veganism, forgive me for not being up on the correct terminology, being a carnivore myself I can't keep it straight) to not eat meat? Like the lo-carbers (and I have been one of these so no arrows being slung) desire to have faux potatoes or rice made from cooked cauliflower. Actually both are rather tasty, but it's the term 'faux taters' and 'faux rice' that bothered me no end. I couldn't have the real thing and in the case of rice at least didn't even want the real thing, so why go for faux?
And while we're at it, showing our age and unpolitical correctness, what is the deal with calling the inserts 'falsies' when faux breast might be more appropriate and certainly more up to date? Or is that just getting too freaky for everyone?
Faux you!
Friday, February 29, 2008
Blast from the Past
Mama called the other day, asking a question she has asked me often of late. "I need your uncle's date of birth. Have you asked your brother to look it up for me, yet?" I answered "No" as I've answered her a dozen times already. But since I was on the computer and stranger things have occurred when I was playing on the computer, I thought I'd just look up my uncle by name. I was a little leery. He wasn't the most pleasant person in the world and had an unsavory reputation. Heaven knew what I might find!
But to my surprise what I found was information related to his birthdate, the very information my mom wanted. And I found it on my dad's old geocities account. It was still there. After all this time, though he died two years ago, hadn't posted in years due to his illness. Just hanging out in cyberworld waiting for me to stumble upon it once more.
It felt eerie and creepy and bittersweet all at once, as I read the family history he'd outlined on the page. Then I clicked on the link for family photos and found myself staring down history. What fun! There were photos there I'd never seen before and faces of relatives I'd had the joy of knowing, but who were long gone.
And towards the bottom of the page were the three of us: myself and my two brothers. My dad, who'd disappeared from our lives for 7 years before reappearing, my dad who rarely spoke to us, never called and never wrote the last 7 years he lived next door, had kept those photos in his wallet for years.
Every single person in the photos is no longer living except myself (obviously), my youngest brother, our cousin Diane and possibly cousin Leonard. I'm not sure about him... But there was my dad, who for so many years had seemed to withdraw and avoid contact showing off these photos on his blog with pride and a real feeling for family. How sad that he'd rather live with the memories of what had been than to keep building memories to store away, to cherish.
Another robbery, another bit of thievery by the the old deceiver, Satan.
http://www.geocities.com/chasga310/photos.htm
But to my surprise what I found was information related to his birthdate, the very information my mom wanted. And I found it on my dad's old geocities account. It was still there. After all this time, though he died two years ago, hadn't posted in years due to his illness. Just hanging out in cyberworld waiting for me to stumble upon it once more.
It felt eerie and creepy and bittersweet all at once, as I read the family history he'd outlined on the page. Then I clicked on the link for family photos and found myself staring down history. What fun! There were photos there I'd never seen before and faces of relatives I'd had the joy of knowing, but who were long gone.
And towards the bottom of the page were the three of us: myself and my two brothers. My dad, who'd disappeared from our lives for 7 years before reappearing, my dad who rarely spoke to us, never called and never wrote the last 7 years he lived next door, had kept those photos in his wallet for years.
Every single person in the photos is no longer living except myself (obviously), my youngest brother, our cousin Diane and possibly cousin Leonard. I'm not sure about him... But there was my dad, who for so many years had seemed to withdraw and avoid contact showing off these photos on his blog with pride and a real feeling for family. How sad that he'd rather live with the memories of what had been than to keep building memories to store away, to cherish.
Another robbery, another bit of thievery by the the old deceiver, Satan.
http://www.geocities.com/chasga310/photos.htm
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Moods and Madness
I had a terrible time of it Sunday night. I went to bed about my usual time and had soon read myself to sleep...Nothing unusual in that. But then I awoke in the most whiney, foul mood. Husband wasn't abed as he should have been and I lay awake worrying that he'd fallen asleep on the couch, which always makes his back ache horribly next day. Finally I got up and discovered he was on the computer. Now mind you, he seldom gets a chance at the computer. He leaves it mostly to dd and myself and he might get it for 10 or 15 minutes.
Occasionally he has trouble sleeping. We'd had a storm Sunday evening, with lots of bad weather reports and a tornado touching down in our county...good enough reason for him to not be able to sleep. And he does like to write, has two blogs where he shares his own thoughts and does it very well. But finding him on the computer didn't set well with me. I knew I was being unreasonable and didn't say a word, just peeked into the room, saw he was typing and went off back to bed. But not to sleep. Not to sleep.
I sulked. I felt hurt and angry and upset. I knew I was being unreasonable and willed myself to go back to sleep but to no avail. I felt much as a two-year-old does, throwing a tantrum. You can plainly see the toddler is thoroughly disgusted with himself but can't seem to find the 'off' switch,lol. I was just that way. I prayed. I rocked. I reasoned. Finally, I turned on the light and read. Still no sleep. Four chapters later, I tossed the book, got up and stood in the kitchen doorway. "Come to bed."
Rightfully my husband pointed out he was typing, that he was in the middle of something, that he'd been careful to be quiet. I didn't care. "Come to bed." Oh, how I hate to feel as I did! Oh, how I wanted to just go to sleep and rest and let it go. I had no desire to argue but I did have the unreasonable desire to make him do as I wanted him to do. I wanted him to come to bed to soothe me back to sleepiness. I wanted him to put his arms around me and rock me a little until I felt warm and drowsy and peaceful once more. But I didn't tell him these things. Instead, I commanded.
Thankfully, we agreed long long ago that nighttime is no time for arguments. I went back to bed, he finished his posting, and all should have been well. But it wasn't. I continued to be irrationally hurt and moody. He was feeling less than happy, as well. We did cuddle but sleep was elusive. I watched the clock tick away 2 am before going off to sleep once more. There's nothing worse for a bad mood than knowing you've been petty and unreasonable. That low mood sinks you right into the depths of self-loathing.
Early yesterday morning we arose. My bad night lingered, not at all dispelled by the incredibly blue sky or bright sunshine. I slipped away with my cup of coffee to a quiet spot, in an attempt to improve my outlook. My late father-in-law used to say, "Everything looks better in the morning." Certainly, the sky was clear and bright. Why not my mood? What crack had the darkness found in my armor?
The day before as we sang an old hymn, one line stood out "He made all the darkness depart." As my partner sang the line, she made a 'poof' motion. Suddenly I felt shivery. I'd never before thought of God dispelling the darkness in a 'poof'. I'd always thought of it as a slowly decreasing darkness, much as a sunrise. I liked the imagery of a sudden disappearance of darkness. I wanted the same kind of lightened outlook, a 'poof' moment to dispel my ill mood.
It wasn't that easy. It was a gradual lightening that came as we pushed through the housework. It's not woman's work alone in our household, though I am a stay-at-home wife. I watched as this man of mine, the same one whom I felt had mis-used me the night before, vacuumed, and washed clothes and hung laundry to dry and made the beds, while I swept and polished and straightened. I looked around with real satisfaction an hour later. I thanked him sincerely and prettily. And then my dark mood was gone.
I realized my mood had less to do with what I was being given and more to do with what I was willing to give. I'd been ungrateful, looking at what I didn't have for a moment instead of what I have for a lifetime. All I needed was a new perspective.
Occasionally he has trouble sleeping. We'd had a storm Sunday evening, with lots of bad weather reports and a tornado touching down in our county...good enough reason for him to not be able to sleep. And he does like to write, has two blogs where he shares his own thoughts and does it very well. But finding him on the computer didn't set well with me. I knew I was being unreasonable and didn't say a word, just peeked into the room, saw he was typing and went off back to bed. But not to sleep. Not to sleep.
I sulked. I felt hurt and angry and upset. I knew I was being unreasonable and willed myself to go back to sleep but to no avail. I felt much as a two-year-old does, throwing a tantrum. You can plainly see the toddler is thoroughly disgusted with himself but can't seem to find the 'off' switch,lol. I was just that way. I prayed. I rocked. I reasoned. Finally, I turned on the light and read. Still no sleep. Four chapters later, I tossed the book, got up and stood in the kitchen doorway. "Come to bed."
Rightfully my husband pointed out he was typing, that he was in the middle of something, that he'd been careful to be quiet. I didn't care. "Come to bed." Oh, how I hate to feel as I did! Oh, how I wanted to just go to sleep and rest and let it go. I had no desire to argue but I did have the unreasonable desire to make him do as I wanted him to do. I wanted him to come to bed to soothe me back to sleepiness. I wanted him to put his arms around me and rock me a little until I felt warm and drowsy and peaceful once more. But I didn't tell him these things. Instead, I commanded.
Thankfully, we agreed long long ago that nighttime is no time for arguments. I went back to bed, he finished his posting, and all should have been well. But it wasn't. I continued to be irrationally hurt and moody. He was feeling less than happy, as well. We did cuddle but sleep was elusive. I watched the clock tick away 2 am before going off to sleep once more. There's nothing worse for a bad mood than knowing you've been petty and unreasonable. That low mood sinks you right into the depths of self-loathing.
Early yesterday morning we arose. My bad night lingered, not at all dispelled by the incredibly blue sky or bright sunshine. I slipped away with my cup of coffee to a quiet spot, in an attempt to improve my outlook. My late father-in-law used to say, "Everything looks better in the morning." Certainly, the sky was clear and bright. Why not my mood? What crack had the darkness found in my armor?
The day before as we sang an old hymn, one line stood out "He made all the darkness depart." As my partner sang the line, she made a 'poof' motion. Suddenly I felt shivery. I'd never before thought of God dispelling the darkness in a 'poof'. I'd always thought of it as a slowly decreasing darkness, much as a sunrise. I liked the imagery of a sudden disappearance of darkness. I wanted the same kind of lightened outlook, a 'poof' moment to dispel my ill mood.
It wasn't that easy. It was a gradual lightening that came as we pushed through the housework. It's not woman's work alone in our household, though I am a stay-at-home wife. I watched as this man of mine, the same one whom I felt had mis-used me the night before, vacuumed, and washed clothes and hung laundry to dry and made the beds, while I swept and polished and straightened. I looked around with real satisfaction an hour later. I thanked him sincerely and prettily. And then my dark mood was gone.
I realized my mood had less to do with what I was being given and more to do with what I was willing to give. I'd been ungrateful, looking at what I didn't have for a moment instead of what I have for a lifetime. All I needed was a new perspective.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Bitten off more than I can chew?
I started this blog to get a bit of relief from the persona I was inspired to create. To reveal who I am...but the fact is that by the end of a morning of housework and writing, I am too tired to be who I am. I want only to go to my comfy chair, put up my feet and take a ten minute nap instead of watching the coveted 'design and rearrange' portion of a favorite decorating tv program. I am too tired to be me. What does that say about me?
So this morning, I've taken a break. I've slipped into 'me' mode and I can tell you that I am weary. Too many very early morning risings. Too many nights of waking two or three times in the night to lie awake, not in panic or worry or for any good reason except to lie there, experiencing the loveliness of being in bed and in the dark, in my own home, knowing the alarm isn't going off for hours yet and that the man next to me is so loved and so loving it takes my breath away. I don't think of what I don't have, nor what I wish I had. I just am. Perhaps I am closer to the real me at that time of night when all is still around me. What comes across is this: I am content. I am happy with the life I have, with the person I've become, with the circumstances I've got.
Prehaps I have bitten off more than I can chew in the light of day, but the dark of night says, "There's plenty of time to chew...Go ahead and enjoy yourself."
I can do that.
So this morning, I've taken a break. I've slipped into 'me' mode and I can tell you that I am weary. Too many very early morning risings. Too many nights of waking two or three times in the night to lie awake, not in panic or worry or for any good reason except to lie there, experiencing the loveliness of being in bed and in the dark, in my own home, knowing the alarm isn't going off for hours yet and that the man next to me is so loved and so loving it takes my breath away. I don't think of what I don't have, nor what I wish I had. I just am. Perhaps I am closer to the real me at that time of night when all is still around me. What comes across is this: I am content. I am happy with the life I have, with the person I've become, with the circumstances I've got.
Prehaps I have bitten off more than I can chew in the light of day, but the dark of night says, "There's plenty of time to chew...Go ahead and enjoy yourself."
I can do that.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Time Slipped Away While I Wasn't Having Fun
It's been a crazy and hectic time these past two weeks and I am ready for the slow down that today brought. I am home. The sun is shining. Supper is partially prepared for tonight. I need only make dear husband's lunch for tomorrow and clear dishes tonight to finish off this day of housework in my happy home.
I had a birthday this week. It wasn't one of those landmark birthdays. By my family's standards I am just over the middle aged hump and started on my journey down the other side of the hill. Age, thankfully, doesn't bother me. Given an opportunity to tell my age, I will, after quickly calculating in my head how old I am...And I do tell gladly, because thankfully, I don't look my age! I know I don't look my age because my 15yo is telling me all the time, "Mama, at least you don't look your age." My daughter is one of those frighteningly honest to the point of painful truth types. And is incredibly sensitive, a trait I've discovered a lot of these frighteningly honest people share.
It wasn't much as birthdays go. The most quiet, least celebrated birthday I've had in a long time. I hadn't bothered with the usual big buildup about it being my birthday. I had low expectations in fact, and when I'd probe a bit I found I was slightly blase about the whole deal. Until the evening of my birthday when I realized that it had been even more low key than I'd thought it might be. So the day ended with me in tears, feeling very mis-used and unloved and unappreciated and un-celebrated. When dear husband asked later why the tears, I told him. I wanted more fuss. A bit of bother. "At least we can make it up next year!" I said, which seemed to settle wrong with him, as though he were solely to blame for the low key day. He wasn't. Poor dear worked all night and all day and frankly I didn't expect much. I expected something however and he didn't deliver, but then neither did 3 out of 4 of my children, only one of my friends and my mom. I suppose it could have been worse...my mom might have forgotten as well!
We've attended two funerals since I last wrote. My ex fil died and there was the whole "I'm not a part of the family, should I or shouldn't I attend the funeral?" dilemna. Which was combined with the "Gee, I just hate to have to deal with the ex" dilemna. In the end, we did attend, as both dear husband and I liked ex fil rather well and besides there was 'the boy' as my husband refers to the 6 foot tall, 230 pound, 23yo male child. He felt we should go in support of him. And at the end, when my son was suddenly overcome and I saw my husband, whom he calls "Dad", wrap his arms around him and sob right along with him, I was glad we were there.
Then there was the funeral for my husband's boss' mom. She was a woman well loved by her family and who loved her family well. Her career was homemaking, and she did just that. She made a home and was praised high and low by all who knew her. It is the first and only funeral I've attended where a woman was praised with the words of Proverbs 31. I thought it the most loving tribute any could pay to a woman and was especially moved by it.
So this week has passed and all is well, if not all that much fun...But then there's always next week!
I had a birthday this week. It wasn't one of those landmark birthdays. By my family's standards I am just over the middle aged hump and started on my journey down the other side of the hill. Age, thankfully, doesn't bother me. Given an opportunity to tell my age, I will, after quickly calculating in my head how old I am...And I do tell gladly, because thankfully, I don't look my age! I know I don't look my age because my 15yo is telling me all the time, "Mama, at least you don't look your age." My daughter is one of those frighteningly honest to the point of painful truth types. And is incredibly sensitive, a trait I've discovered a lot of these frighteningly honest people share.
It wasn't much as birthdays go. The most quiet, least celebrated birthday I've had in a long time. I hadn't bothered with the usual big buildup about it being my birthday. I had low expectations in fact, and when I'd probe a bit I found I was slightly blase about the whole deal. Until the evening of my birthday when I realized that it had been even more low key than I'd thought it might be. So the day ended with me in tears, feeling very mis-used and unloved and unappreciated and un-celebrated. When dear husband asked later why the tears, I told him. I wanted more fuss. A bit of bother. "At least we can make it up next year!" I said, which seemed to settle wrong with him, as though he were solely to blame for the low key day. He wasn't. Poor dear worked all night and all day and frankly I didn't expect much. I expected something however and he didn't deliver, but then neither did 3 out of 4 of my children, only one of my friends and my mom. I suppose it could have been worse...my mom might have forgotten as well!
We've attended two funerals since I last wrote. My ex fil died and there was the whole "I'm not a part of the family, should I or shouldn't I attend the funeral?" dilemna. Which was combined with the "Gee, I just hate to have to deal with the ex" dilemna. In the end, we did attend, as both dear husband and I liked ex fil rather well and besides there was 'the boy' as my husband refers to the 6 foot tall, 230 pound, 23yo male child. He felt we should go in support of him. And at the end, when my son was suddenly overcome and I saw my husband, whom he calls "Dad", wrap his arms around him and sob right along with him, I was glad we were there.
Then there was the funeral for my husband's boss' mom. She was a woman well loved by her family and who loved her family well. Her career was homemaking, and she did just that. She made a home and was praised high and low by all who knew her. It is the first and only funeral I've attended where a woman was praised with the words of Proverbs 31. I thought it the most loving tribute any could pay to a woman and was especially moved by it.
So this week has passed and all is well, if not all that much fun...But then there's always next week!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Vote for ???? As President
I'm not fond of politics, folks. But I have a responsibility and I'll do my best to live up to it. I've been listening to the candidates and the pundits and the commentators and I'm not just sure whom I'll vote for at present. I kind of feel like I need to get to know these people a bit better. After all, the last two presidents spent 8 years each in office...That's about half the time my first marriage lasted. It's a LONG time to spend with someone you end up regretting having voted for...
I've been listening and I'm here to tell you that people can be downright disturbing in their viewpoints. Like the liberal commentator who suggested we skip what issues each candidate stood for and vote for either Hilary or Obama 'just to show the world that women and blacks can be voted into office regardless of sex and/or race..." Isn't that voting based on sex and/or race? I'll skip on voting solely based on that "logic" (serious clearing of throat).
Then there's the age factor in my opinion. I've watched young men seriously age while in office. Do I really want to vote in a man who is in his 70's and not in the best of health at that? I mean, that sort of leaves the office open for a kind of crap shoot if we end up with the vice president in office instead, doesn't it?
Do I want to vote for a man who stood by his city in a time of crisis and was on Ground Zero with his city's rescue workers? Maybe. But then again this is the same man who said, "Oh well, I ran NYC all these years, Washington is nothing!" But NYC isn't the whole nation sir, it's just a tiny portion of the USA and her territories. He isn't running for mayor of Washington. He's running for president...Maybe his perspective is a bit skewed.
Do I want to vote for a man who left the ministry and entered politics? Or one who looks as though he thought he'd just landed on GQ's cover? Or the candidate that looks like he just swallowed vinegar?
I'll vote for the one who gives the straightest answers, how's that? But that means someone will forgo the usual political fence straddling, and it remains to be seen if any can do that.
Maybe I'll just vote for Undecided.
I've been listening and I'm here to tell you that people can be downright disturbing in their viewpoints. Like the liberal commentator who suggested we skip what issues each candidate stood for and vote for either Hilary or Obama 'just to show the world that women and blacks can be voted into office regardless of sex and/or race..." Isn't that voting based on sex and/or race? I'll skip on voting solely based on that "logic" (serious clearing of throat).
Then there's the age factor in my opinion. I've watched young men seriously age while in office. Do I really want to vote in a man who is in his 70's and not in the best of health at that? I mean, that sort of leaves the office open for a kind of crap shoot if we end up with the vice president in office instead, doesn't it?
Do I want to vote for a man who stood by his city in a time of crisis and was on Ground Zero with his city's rescue workers? Maybe. But then again this is the same man who said, "Oh well, I ran NYC all these years, Washington is nothing!" But NYC isn't the whole nation sir, it's just a tiny portion of the USA and her territories. He isn't running for mayor of Washington. He's running for president...Maybe his perspective is a bit skewed.
Do I want to vote for a man who left the ministry and entered politics? Or one who looks as though he thought he'd just landed on GQ's cover? Or the candidate that looks like he just swallowed vinegar?
I'll vote for the one who gives the straightest answers, how's that? But that means someone will forgo the usual political fence straddling, and it remains to be seen if any can do that.
Maybe I'll just vote for Undecided.
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