Month: August 2003

  • Deep Thinking


    I'd like to be thinking deep thoughts, writing provocative blogs.  This time a year ago I was happily wallowing in questions of Ultimate Reality, epistemology, freedom, responsibility, feminism, and faith.  Today, I can barely conceive a topic more substantial than cotton candy.  I feel like I've been sprinkled with pixie dust.  When I read my daily dose of Kierkegaard, I found myself thinking, what a cute, funny, silly guy this is ...  o_0


    Over the past six months I have reached a level of acceptance and appreciation of myself that I have never felt before in my life.  I'm downright integrated!  Whole, complete, perfect!  How did this happen?  How did it happen when I least expected it? 


  • Labor Day Weekend


    The official (if not astronomical) end of summer is upon us.  My friends in Minnesota are packing away their grills, knowing that it will be cold before September has ended.  We have a three day weekend ahead.  My friends in Florida don't get it.  But at this juncture of time, I'd like to wish you a wonderful weekend, and give you this image.  From the time of day when the sun strokes the water ~


  • Euphoric


    Do you ever have a day when you want to dance like snoopy?  Do ever have a day when the rhythm of your heart sounds like a happy Paul Simon track?  How about a day when you add up all the points of all the food you've eaten all week and realize you COULD eat that entire pint of Godiva Belgian Dark Chocolate ice cream and STILL be under for the week?


    I'm wishing a day just like that to all of you today.  (And if you don't have that kind of day come on over to my place for pizza tonight, I've just had a 50 gallon drum of pixie dust delivered and I can make everything all better for everybody.)



  • More Joy


    I think it's no secret that I've been working on a book - several books in fact.  One of them recently came back from an initial editorial review.  Being typical, my eye skimmed right over the compliments looking for the criticism, where's the thing I can think about that will make my writing better.  I know that I have at least one friend reading this who's grinding teeth right now, and I'll admit right up front that there is much to be said for Steven King's idea that criticism is never a good thing.  You know what you want to write, just write it.  Besides, if you show your work to three different people, you'll get three different opinions about where the strengths and weaknesses lie.  It's almost impossible to make criticism work for you, you wind up doubting and worrying and in the end the criticism has the potential to make your writing a lot worse instead of better as you try to please a wide audience instead of remaining true to yourself and your vision.


    Now I'll go on to say that this particular editor was very complimentary.  I got lots of nice pats on the back for my ability to express my thoughts clearly and with an engaging style.  Then tucked away in the botton of the remarks - the two word phrase - More Joy.


    I was taken aback for a moment.  I am a joyful person.  I see much to smile about in the world around me.  I find hilarity everywhere I turn.  My favorite moments are when I meet the eye of someone who is smiling at the same thing I am - we have for a moment the sensation that we share an inside joke, that we get the absurdity of it all.  When I posted the photo of my brother last Spring, lovingmy40s said that she would know immediately that he and I were related because we have the same wide grin.


    Now, I'm stepping back and thinking about what might be underneath my perception of being a joyful person.  Because you see, I also believe that I write what I am.  The thoughts, ideas, and values that make up me, all come through in the words I choose to express myself.  Whether I'm writing a poem, an essay, or a short story, ultimately, I'm writing me.  Thinking back over the words I've written here, I wonder how accurate my perception of myself really is.  Am I truly joyful?  Or is all that laughter a cover for something serious and sad?


    I don't have an answer, just the question.  And this admission, every time I walk past the mirror I peek quickly out the corner of my eye to see what expression I'm wearing, wondering if the mirror of silver and glass will reflect more truly than the mirror of paper and ink. 


     


    **** the necklace I'm wearing in the photo above was designed and made for me by craktpot.  She does beautiful work.  I have several of her pieces, and I'm always ready to see her post that she has made more.  (hint, hint, Teri!)



  • Slow Down
    Take a Deep Breath
    Focus
    Prioritize
    There are NO Emergencies
    Speed Kills
    Easy Gets it Done


    Speed creates an illusion of invincibility.  After all, it takes real POWER to propel our selves, our families, our ideas, our projects at the speed of sound.  Surely, travelling at such a high velocity, I'm unstoppable.  I'm SUPER-woman.


    Except, I'm not.  I'm not made to move that way through the world, or through my life.  When I take a deep breath and give myself permission to just DO it and not pay any attention to the clock, two things happen.  First of all - I get it done.  And secondly, I get it done faster than when I stress myself and push myself and fly right past the mark.


    That's the thing about traveling fast.  It takes a longer time to correct the course than traveling slow.  By the time I see the exit - I'm past it.  And then I have to turn around and waste all that time I saved going so fast getting back to the destination I missed. 


    Worse, travelling fast, my vehicle vibrates to an unnatural rhythm and without frequent expensive maintenance it flies apart at the seams.  So much better to sit on my beach and blow bubbles on purpose, than sit in the psych unit and finger paint because I had a breakdown. 


    ** The photo above is of a plaque that hangs with my calendar in the kitchen. 

  • Celebration


    Today is my little brother's birthday and he's celebrating it here with me in Indiana.  Whooo Dave!  Since he's in town for the next couple of days, we are planning to totally be kids again - we're taking my boys and running off to do Six Flags the way we always dreamed when we were kids.  Without our parents. 


    Dinner tonight is going to be at Dave's favorite Louisville spot (Mongolian Grill) unless Tucker manages to talk him into Tucker's favorite Asian Pearl.  LOL - Oh, yeah, it's fun to see the two "babies" negotiating. 


    I know I haven't been around much lately, I'll do my best to make it up to everyone when things settle down with nice LONG comments and mucho eprops. 


           

  • I Won


    For some reason this summer we've had a hard time getting a good family day.  Either the lawn needs to be mowed, or someone doesn't feel well, or maybe even there's a bit of emotional tension around the edges of paradise.  And so we wind up spending that obligatory hour together, but then we break apart to our individual interests with some relief and the happy thought that we've done our part. 


    But, this weekend we finally had a day that clicked for everyone.  We spent some time shopping with the kids.  While we were in one store, a huge thunderstorm blew up and for a time the power was off.  Thanks to good building design and skylights, there was still plenty of light to see so instead of heading out in a panic, we browsed with the kids.  We tried out things we would have walked quickly past under other circumstances.  We had fun.


    After the shopping, we watched a video with the kids - popcorn all around.  Michael, ever the sceptic, was pretty sure that he wouldn't like the film "Agent Cody Banks".  Then he laughed all the way through, at one point he was laughing so hard, he missed a part and asked us to replay it.  Then he got laughing so hard he missed it again.  When the movie was over he gave it a "3" so he wouldn't have to admit that he'd liked it. 


    Finally, it was time for the big event.  The moment Tucker had been waiting for all day long.  We got out the Mousetrap game.  He gets so excited he can't sit in his chair.  He has to "test" the trap at ever stage.  And finally we get down to the part where the mice get in "danger."  We played a couple rounds through the danger zone and then he and Michael both landed under the trap at the same time.  That was too much for Tucker.  He sprang the trap on himself just for the fun of "catching" two mice at once.   So I won. 


    I won the game by default, and I won the day by grace.  It was great. 

  • Still Wanna be a Cocoa Goddess

     

    A couple days ago I was as Walmart and I couldn't help it.  I bought Bringin Down the House.  We missed it last Spring when it was in the theater, so I was looking forward to curling up on the sofa with my husband and some hot-buttered popcorn to remedy that sad situation.  Oh, it was funny.  Steve Martin just gets better and better at the kind of comedy that enables us all to laugh at the ways that we try to be cool.  That's his genius, he preaches the message over and over again that the harder we try to be cool, the less cool we are. 

     

    I've been thinking of blogs to post ever since we watched it.  There are obvious trains of thought about what we find funny and what we find offensive in the way that people respond to clashes of culture.  (One of the critiques I'd offer is that they used a lot of stale stereotypes of white bigots.  In this day and age, bigotry has become much more subtle than to assume that all black people are waiters and servants.  I thought the film wound have been stronger if they had chosen to portray the type of bogotry that we are more likely to encounter.  They also stereotyped black culture by equating all black culture with hip-hop.  And finally there is a difference between racial bigotry and cultural bigotry that I'd love to address.)  I could probably write a book about the music, or the compare the rich beauty of Queen Latifah to the ephemeral appeal of the woman who spends two hours a day doing tai-bo and indulging herself with the most expensive spa treatments.

     

    After the film I watched all the interviews with the actors and so forth.  (Oh, yeah, surely I'm not the ONLY person in America addicted to the behind-the-scenes stuff on DVD's.  Actually, it was the behind-the-scene extras that pushed me to make the jump from VHS to DVD format.) One clip featured the woman who played the gold-digger ex-sister-in-law, Kristen.  She said something to the effect that as she was preparing for her character, she thought back on all the people who had hurt her, used her, manipulated and abused her.  And she wanted to bring those people to life in the character she portrayed. 

     

    It was a throw-away comment, but it's stuck in my mind as a wonderful illumination of how we become hurt-full persons.  We internalize and carry along with us the people who've wounded and abused us.  Then, without meaning to, we bring those people to life in our own character.  Say I've been disappointed by someone who made a promise that wasn't kept.  I swear that I'll never be hurt by that kind of thing again.  So I meet another person, who makes a different (or maybe even similar) promise to me.  But, that brings up all kinds of red flags, it feels like it felt right before the rug was pulled from beneath my feet.  If I'm not very careful, I react not to the person who's present with me, but to the person who hurt me and is long gone. 

     

    Without becoming too convoluted, I can easily work my way from the initial hurt to the point where I can see that my behavior, rather than being the protection for myself that I've intended, mimics the behavior I despise.  Instead of moving on, I've brought that hurt with me into the present and inflicted in on another person.

     

    While I've been mulling this over, I've had an encounter that underscored the need to be aware of these pitfalls.  I did something that is a routine type action for me.  Nothing that 99% of the people I know would think about twice.  But in this particular case, my behavior brought to mind an unpleasant association for a friend of mine.  Now, the thing that impressed me to no end is that my friend told me what was happening.  The conversation was handled in such a way that I didn't feel at all defensive.  My friend didn't suggest that there was anything wrong with what I'd done.  Just acknowledged to me that there were some negative feelings and told me why.  That's a person who won't be caught in the quicksand of a destructive pattern through unconscious repetition. 

     

    If the point of growing-up is to become the kind of person who can interact with other people in a way that affirms both, then I would have to say that my friend is way high up on that ladder.  And I'm a lucky person to have someone like that in my life.

     

    OH, and I'd still like to be a cocoa goddess. 

  • While Xanga Was Down -


    I got into trouble.  In spite of having been given strict orders to take it easy, I spent yesterday morning cleaning the house, and then after the kids and I finished school, I went out to mow the yard.  Come on, it had to be done.  First there was rain, then I was sick, the the neighbor kid who was trying to mow it for me broke a blade and the litle wheel that keeps the mower deck level fell off.  (Do you get the impression I'm rough on my equipment?)  So Michael ratted me out to his Dad.  "You have to come home Dad.  Mom is outside sweating and she's gonna get sick if you don't come home and stop her."  So he did, he came home - at 4:00 in the afternoon on a Thursday.  Weird.


    So today I took the boys to the lake.  I mean how much trouble can I get in at the lake?  Maybe you'd like a peek into my afternoon ...


    Bob Seger’s running against the wind, again.  I wonder about the woman lying on the mesh chair a few feet away from me as she pushes the button on her CD player and the notes roll out across the sand. I think she looks at least 5 and maybe as much as ten years older than I am. I speculate, she first bought this album on vinyl, then got the eight track for her first car stereo. Now she has the CD. And she’s here at the lake. Alone. Wearing a suit that exposes the rolls of her flesh to the sun and to the gaze of the other people.  She's listening to a song that's brought a faraway look to her eye as she lies there baking in the late August sunshine. 


    Mama, Michael splashed me again, well Tucker pinched me first and second Mama, will you bring me a juice?  It’s too hot for me to walk across the sand my feet just won’t do it, but I’m really, really, really, really, really hot and thirsty.  I refuse to be distracted, "You don’t have to walk up here for a juice, but since you’re coming for a time out, you can get one for yourself."


    The beach at Deam Lake is small. And I’ve thought that the quirkiest people in the area all gather here. That’s part of the reason I like it. Whenever we come here, there are migrant workers speaking Spanish and cooking fragrant spicy things on the grill. I’ve seen people who speak only Hindi, and there’s one family that sounds Eastern European. I can’t imagine how they all came to find this lake in Southern Indiana where we are surrounded by hay and cornfields for several counties in any direction.


    It’s a game I play, who’s the oddest duck on the beach. Some days it’s obvious even to my kids and I have to caution them to "be polite," and "don’t stare." Last week I set up my chair next to a woman who told me about her seven husbands. "Not all at the same time you understand, no I got so good at divorcing them that I did all the paperwork for the last two myself. What is your stand on legalizing Marijuana? Oh, then you probably won’t turn me in when I light this joint And before I forget to ask, do you know Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior?"


    Today there are several contenders vying for the honor. In addition to the woman addicted to Bob Seger, there is a man who is fishing off a raft. Not the wooden raft that graces the deep end of the swimming area. He has a lime green blow-up mattress. Lying back in the sun, drifting around in circles he casts and reels, casts and reels. I wonder what he would do if he accidentally caught something. I know it would be an accident because I can see from here that he’s not using bait.  I also have the wicked desire to see him catch his mattress and I giggle to myself imagining the result.


    On a cotton blanket about 30 feet away there’s a man who seems to my eye to be about the same age as the woman. He has shoulder length golden hair and is tanned to an even brown all over. He looks like someone who takes tanning seriously. I don’t want to look at him, but when he stands and walks into the water I watch from the corner of my eye. The leopard print speedo looks like it might have fit when he bought it. But now, his belly hangs low over the front and the elastic digs into his hips.  He catches my eye and I’m embarrassed.


    I watch my son playing in the water and don’t pay any more attention to the man until I’m releasing Tucker from his time-out. "Mama, that man’s penis is really big." I didn’t mean to look, I really didn’t. But, I thought, "Oh my God, is he a flasher? Do the kids and I need to leave." No, he’s lying on his back. The faint smile on his face tells me that he heard Tucker’s remark.  He opens his eyes when I look at him, and I see that he has an erection. I’m glad that I’m at least 30 feet away.


    I tell Tucker I’ll race him into the water. And I stay in the water until the man zips himself into a pair of denim shorts and folds his blanket. As he strolls away, I hear the line again – "I’m older now, but still running against the wind."

  • Holy Hannah!  This has been rough!


    I don't know who these DDOS people are, but I'm all for being vindictive and unkind to them.  There have been good things over the past three days.  I've added several more people to my IM Buddy list.  And I've had lovely email chats with people who's email address I was smart enough to SAVE in my address book.  But, I am feeling totally deprived after not being able to log on and read your blogs.


    I was tempted to go up to total strangers yesterday and ask them if they kept a journal and could I PLEASE read it.  Now, I can read posts, but can't access comments.  That's okay.  Well, not really, but at least I can READ!!!! 


    ***************


    So on the assumption that if you are reading this, you are feeling similarly anxious to know the intimate details of the lives of the people you have in your SIR - - -


    We are up to our ears in homeschool and I'm finding that the new materials, the new books, the new ideas I'm implementing this year have given me a renewed enthusaism for the process.  I had been really discouraged over the past few months, wondering if maybe it was time to enroll the kids in a "regular" school.  Throw in the towel.  I'm glad I didn't do that. 


    I'm feeling better.  Saw my doctor yesterday and got a good report.  My infection is gone and the symptoms seem to be abating.  He says that because of the type and degree of my infection I could have some residual effects for a couple more weeks but it's looking really good now.  


    I noticed yesterday that the boys need a haircut.  In the past I have attempted to cut their hair myself, but I think I'd have had more consistent results if I'd been trying to cut Tucker's hair while he was bouncing on a pogo stick.  At least then he would primarily be limited to an up and down motion as opposed the the random up - side - turn - round - down - twist thing that he does.  So I'm going to pay someone ELSE to cut his hair, and I'll probably tip her as much as the cost of the basic haircut. 


    How about a happy thought?


    I will be the gladdest thing under the sun
    I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.     


    Edna St. Vincent Millay