Momma Always Said ...

There's something about mothers, right?  We don't mean to do it, but our mouths open up and the strangest things come out.  I was reading over on Dagonflies' site the tribute to her Mom for Mother's Day, and one of the things she included was a sampling of the "Sayings" her Mom repeated regularly. 

My Mom isn't just any old run-of-the-mill garden-variety mom who says things like "always make sure you're wearing clean underwear in case you're in a wreck ..."  Actually, I don't know any Mom who actually says that, did yours?  No, My Mom says things like:

"If you fly too high, you'll land in a cowpile."  I've never understood what it was about height that caused a magnetic attraction to cowpoop - but I'm careful ...

"Poop on your bald head."  Come to think of it, poop seems to figure prominently in my Mom's wit.

And my personal favorite, "Happy as a dead pig in the sunshine."  You might have to say that one out loud a couple times to really be able to appreciate it.  Try it with a heavy Southern accent ... yeah!  Like that!

Now that I've typed that last one, I'm drawing a blank which is a shame because Mom is a true bonafide character of the first sort and I'm sure there a dozen more examples that deserve inclusion here.  How about I offer you this, if I hear any more of her sayin's run through my mind, I'll amend this blog. 

Tucker jsut came through wearing plastic bags on his feet - "What are you doing with the plastic bags?"  I asked. 

He raised his eyebrow (I don't know where he gets that ... o_0) and said, "Wearing them."

Earlier I heard him calling his brother, "Michael, come here, the cat wants to play with us... quick, shut the door before she gets out."

And just after school, I found him standing on the kitchen counter, "Tucker, please get down before you fall and break your arm!"

"Don't worry, Mom, I'm a good bouncer."

Another Day Another List

I know that I'm getting closer to the end, I must be!  But why, oh, why is it that when I wake up in the morning I see more things to do than I realized the day before?  My list for today involves the kind of stuff that requires being away from the house so I know it will not be a super-productive day in terms of getting quantities of stuff moved to it's final resting place.  But I've been at work already this morning, and I'll start up again after I pick up the kids from school.  So I suppose it's all good.

I added a module to the sidebar this morning.  I can't ever remember who I've mentioned my schedule to and who I haven't.  Now everyone can see where I'll be and when I'll be there.  Please note that my son and I have a birthday in the midst of this madness.  He'll be 10 and I'll be 41.  I think that puts me officially "in my 40's".  I mean just plain old 40 was more like wading where the water laps around your ankles.  But cross that threshold to 41 and it just feels more like I'm solidly there.  Okay, I know I'm not there yet.  But I usually start trying on the coming year a little ahead of time in case there's going to be an emotional response that I've overlooked until I hear myself say it outloud - I'm 41. 

Let me try that again.  "I'm 41."

Hmmmmmm.  No big emotion rising.  Anyone wanna tell me what year I can expect to say my age and feel like a grown-up?

Oh Well, better get these kids to school so I can start checking things off the list.

Summertime And the Living is Easy ....

There's a slight chance that I'm rushing my seasons over here, but it's feeling a lot like summer around my place.  The air is warm, the birds are loud, the flowers are swaying beneath the weight of busy bees.  Yep - it's summer.  There are aspects of every season that I enjoy.  I love the mellow cool, damp leaves falling, bright fire colors of autumn.  I love the crisp alive, early twilight, smell of winter baking in the kitchen that warms us through January.  I love the waking up, temperamental yes/no/maybeso/whatofit patterns of storm and sweet through April.

Even though spring takes the prize for drama on the weather front, summer is where its at for out of the house, over the top, party on the beach and indulgent excesses.  Summer is the season of love and weddings, vacation, fat puppies, and the ferris wheel at Six Flags on a hot June night.  U pick 'em berries and peaches with cream.  It's a humid morning in the garden picking beans and squash.  It's fighting with the insects who crowd around hoping that you'll drop a crumb or abandon a rind when you finish your picnic.  Summer is above all else ripe dripping watermelon.  Who can work with watermelon on their mind?

My lovely friend Tina helped me to redesign my website.  And as usual, I brought my idea to her, and she made it enormously more and better than what I had in mind.  I humbly admire her ability to create the look that exactly fits the mood I want to convey.  She's an artist in every sense of the word.  To show you what I mean - I'll tell you what I told her. 

"I want a site that will look like what Marge Piercy painted with words in this poem:

Morning Love Song

I am filled with love like a melon
with seeds, I am ripe and dripping sweet juices.
If you knock gently on my belly
it will thrum, ripe.

It is high green summer with the strawberries
just ending and the blueberries coloring,
with the roses tumpbling like fat Persian
kittens, the gold horns of the squash blowing.

The day after a storm the leaves gleam.
The world is clear as a just washed picture window.
The air whips its finesilk through the hands.
Every last bird has an idea to insist on.

I am trying to work and instead
I drip love for you like a honeycomb.
I am devoid of fantasies clean as rainwater
waiting to flow all over your skin."

Now didn't Tina do a beautiful job?

I spent Friday in a frenzy of packing and yesterday made the first five trips to the storage unit with my stuff.  Tim loaned me the van (AND he fixed the fan on my air conditioner YEAH!!!!)  All the furniture from my reading corner is in storage now ... and yes, it was a tough call to put the Big Blue Chair in the first load, but on the other had, something had to be first.  Last weekend the boys lost all the toys they've been collecting from McDonald's and Wendy's and Burger King and Taco Bell and yes... it occured to me that anyone with that many toys from "happy meals" is in need of a serious dietary adjustment.  It just seemed fitting that after targeting their stuff last week, my stuff needed to be in the spotlight this weekend.  It's hard to estimate, but at this point I'm thinking that about 60% of the house is in storage.  It's my goal that I'll sort through the remainder this week, and after next weekend, we'll be living with our beds, our clothes, and my computer.  Thats as minimal as I'm willing to go. 

The boys and Tim worked it out yesterday that they are taking me to brunch and then to a movie because it's Mother's Day today.  They mentioned wanting to see me take a day to rest.  I haven't mentioned to them that while we're out, we're going on a search and rescue mission to find boxes.  I'm down to one measly Bud Light® box and that won't hold much of nuthin'. 

HappyMother's Day

Zen and the Art of Packing My House

Ooooooohm  

Ooooooohm (fidget)

"Close your eyes kids, this is cool."

Ooooooohm (fidget, fidget)

"Come on, breathe in, breathe out - let yourself relax"

Oooooooohm  ("I think she's up to something.)

"Everyone got your eyes closed?"

Oooooooohm  ("I know she's up to something.)

Crash (sound of boxes being tossed OUT the door)

Oooooooohm  ("What was THAT?")

"Nothing kids, keep your eyes closed."

My kids didn't seem to notice that 90% of the stuff in their room disappeared over the weekend.  They noticed that I found all the pieces to their marble game - it's a cool toy, you connect all these little tubes to make like a roller coaster thing for a marble to roll around and down.  The marble makes things spin, you line up little ski jump thingees to have the marble jump from on track to another.  They hadn't played with it in at least a year because they could find enough of the bits.   

Today I'm packing at random.  My trunk is full of stuff to go to Goodwill.  My laundry room is full of trash bags that hold actual trash.  So far, I've only filled four boxes.  But I've cleared out another entire closet.  It's good.  It's all good. 

On Monday the temperature here was mid 40s.  Today its mid 80s.  The fan on my airconditioner sounds like a motorcycle with a bad muffler.  Brrrrump  Brrrrump  Brrrrump  I'm not willing to pay to have it fixed when I'll only be here for another three weeks, and I don't own the house anymore anyway.  Still I'm wishing there were shade trees a little closer ...

We've changed the plan a half dozen times, but now, Tim is coming out on Friday to pick up the kids instead of me taking them to him.  While he's here, he's offering to help me load the heavier boxes, and I'm borrowing the van so I can move as much as possible into storage on Saturday while the kids are with him in Louisville.  If a great deal of stuff winds up at the landfill, well ... 

Oooooooooohm. 

Too Much Stuff  *Updated*

Okay - up until now, it's been theoretical.  But experientially, I can say that I have too much stuff.  I worked in the boys' room this weekend cleaning out the toys that were broken, missing pieces, or outgrown - eight trash bags - the 30 gallon size - of STUFF I pulled out of there.  Now, all their stuff fits neatly into a toybox sized rubbermaid container. 

I've sorted, organized, boxed and donated for what?  two solid weeks?  And there is still more STUFF to go.  ~ sigh ~  Note to me, anyone who has more stuff than can be boxed up in two weeks, has TOO MUCH STUFF.  Once before I wrote that surrounding yourself with more stuff than you need is a type of insanity.  I've been having regular conversations with my cousin who will be hosting us in Colorado Springs while I'm searching for employment and housing.  As we've discussed her houserules and my houserules and what we'll need to adjust in order for our households to mingle harmoniously, one of the things that came up was how we view carpeting.  In my home, I have had plastic runners around the house and I ask that the kids take off their shoes just inside the door.  Eliza said that she had carpeting to serve the needs of her family not the family to serve the needs of the carpet.  Wow, that's a different attitude.   

I'm down now to the stuff that I'll keep because I can't figure out how to get rid of it.  Stuff that I will get rid of, and the stuff that I'm using for the next three weeks.  I hate this stage of it.  I suspect that everything that goes into a box from here on out is something that I probably could live without if I just had a little more strength of will to simplify and streamline my life.  How much stuff am I dragging along because somewhere over time I've become the servant of the things I have instead of the other way around?

I'm also running out of boxes.  Anyone know where I can find boxes?  I've been haunting the bookstores here with minimal success because they were saving their boxes to do returns.  Oh, well.  I have enough boxes to keep me busy today and then I'll be out hunting again.  In service to stuff that I neither need nor want.  Yes, I'm insane. 

*MUAH*

The liquor store in town had two dozen boxes waiting to be broken down.  The clerk was only too happy for me to break 'em and take 'em.  THANKS GUYS for the suggestion. 

Does etiquette demand that when asking for boxes, one must make a purchase from the donating establishment? 

Tying Loose Ends

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we'll leave it far and far away--
(Only you and I understand!)




You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and--
Just tired.
So am I.


But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And I knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart--
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.


Ah, come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steps of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.





-- E.E.Cummings





Sometimes I have an idea that just won't leave me alone.  Last week I posted a snippet of an e e cummings poem.  I've had it on my mind ever since and I wanted to post the entire poem for you.  It's very much more positive than the snippet made it sound.  Intimate with the comfort of the old friend who knows what you're really thinking when you smile at the jokes, and nod at the right places, but you have that slight tension in your temple.  It's an invitation to come away from the things that stress us and wear on us.  An invitation to trust your heart to the blossom that your friend - your lover - has plucked for its soft resting place. 




I hope you are resting tonight. 




If you haven't seen the blog just below this, please check it out and consider whether you might be able to do something to support one of our troops.  A card saying "thank you", a magazine or book of crossword puzzles, so many things we can send that would cost less than the postage to send but would be priceless to those in the field lonely for home and doing without things that we all take for granted. 




The boys and I mailed our package today.  In a couple of weeks, we'll send another.  Because we know that it isn't just SPC Truit.  We have hundreds of thousands of men and women serving in Iraq, Afghanistan, and around the world.  Anytime we can do something to make their day a little better, I'm thankful to God for that opportunity. 




You may not have noticed, but I've practically bitten my tongue until it bleeds in my effort not to make this about politics.  I won't violate that now, the point isn't the political, it's the personal.  Men and women with real faces and real names with real needs.  But I want credit for this effort to keep the focus where it belongs. 

Supporting the Troops

One of Xanga's own is now a soldier serving in Iraq until at least next March.  I know that many of you know people in service and you have made a huge effort to be supportive of them.  I'm going to ask that you also do something tangible to support SPC James Truit.  He was able to get a landline phone today and contacted Dread Pirate who has posted more information about the situation on his site.  The thing that wrenches my heart is the list of things that SPC Truit asked for.  He needs basic toiletries:  toothpaste, toothbrush, soap, shampoo, wash cloths, lotion, razors, etc ... He asked for reading material, and like many soldiers before him, he said he wouldn't mind at all if someone sent him cookies. 

I've just finished making a batch of chocolate chip cookies and a pan of peanut butter fudge.  Regular readers know that I happened to already have on hand a supply of unopened toothbrushes.  (See, that ADD thing can be handy.)  I have a few other things as well that I'm putting into a box I'll mail in the morning.  It isn't just SPC Truit.  He's a part of a company of men and women, all of whom have similar needs.  Anything we send him, he will share.  If you can't send him a care package, (I know that this can be hard especially for you college folks) he would be grateful just to get a postcard with some kind of news from the States. 

SPC James Truit
HHC STB 13th COSCOM (PAO)
APO AE 09391