I'm going to head out to the airport in an hour or so. I'm pretty much packed, and I should be able to take care of the "pretty much" part in the next 30 minutes. Beatrice the rat is crawling around the room, which is not the same as the rat experience Josh recently had.
I should have internet access every day of my trip - I'll be in New York at an IBM Conference, for goodness' sake! So I should be able to blog about the whole experience. I suspect nights will be fine and mornings will be very, very hard. The 7-8am registration time they have at the conference will feel like 4-5am - even earlier than I normally get up. Yikes!
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Packing for NY
It's 3am in New York. Or at least, nearly 3am. And even though it's "only" 11:48 here, I'm still up. Usually when I blog late it's after I've already slept an hour or two. Tonight, I've been up the whole time.
After S's very successful (and amazingly quiet and calm) birthday party at the Gymnastics facility, we had a couple of little girls hang out here at home until around 10 while their parents were at a work event. It was perfect - the four friends kept each other very well entertained while I did chores around the house in preparation for the business trip to New York.
I leave tomorrow morning, and I may even get to sleep tonight first! I've gone from being blase to being very excited about this trip. I mean, New York! I've been to big, famous cities all over the world, and New York is one place I never thought I'd visit. I don't know why
I was telling a coworker the other day that it's like how I never thought I'd learn French. Or touch type. Even though I love languages and love to write. Go figure. You never can tell what life will throw your way.
However, I'm trying to avoid the "you never can tell what life will throw your way" philosophy while packing. I'm trying to pack *so* light. Which means packing clever. And it's hard to be clever when it's 3am in the place you'll be within 20 hours.
*yawn*
Maybe I should go to bed now and wake up at 4am, which will be 7am EDT. And then I can sleep on the plane and just snore and drool on the people sitting next to me. Yeah, that should be very attractive.
After S's very successful (and amazingly quiet and calm) birthday party at the Gymnastics facility, we had a couple of little girls hang out here at home until around 10 while their parents were at a work event. It was perfect - the four friends kept each other very well entertained while I did chores around the house in preparation for the business trip to New York.
I leave tomorrow morning, and I may even get to sleep tonight first! I've gone from being blase to being very excited about this trip. I mean, New York! I've been to big, famous cities all over the world, and New York is one place I never thought I'd visit. I don't know why
I was telling a coworker the other day that it's like how I never thought I'd learn French. Or touch type. Even though I love languages and love to write. Go figure. You never can tell what life will throw your way.
However, I'm trying to avoid the "you never can tell what life will throw your way" philosophy while packing. I'm trying to pack *so* light. Which means packing clever. And it's hard to be clever when it's 3am in the place you'll be within 20 hours.
*yawn*
Maybe I should go to bed now and wake up at 4am, which will be 7am EDT. And then I can sleep on the plane and just snore and drool on the people sitting next to me. Yeah, that should be very attractive.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Spiderman & Maribou
S loves to shop. We bought party favors today, then a bike for her birthday, then went clothes shopping for me (black pants for the NY trip), and then - even though it was so far past dinner time, it was almost bed time - she was very sad that we couldn't shop more.
S is having a Spider Man theme party tomorrow. Well, semi-Spidy, anyway. The invitations were Spiderman. The plates and tablecloth are Spiderman. The cake and decoration on top of the cake are Spiderman. But the party favors are little sheer pink drawstring purses with pink maribou trim, and pink maribou ponytail holders. All her choice.
I love that my kids know what they want and don't care whether it matches any social norm. I might hate that later, but for now, it's mostly harmless.
Tomorrow we pick up R from camp, and the sounds of S talking to herself and singing to herself and otherwise bouncing off the walls will be complimented again by the sounds of R turning the pages of whatever book she is devouring. It'll be nice to have her back.
S is having a Spider Man theme party tomorrow. Well, semi-Spidy, anyway. The invitations were Spiderman. The plates and tablecloth are Spiderman. The cake and decoration on top of the cake are Spiderman. But the party favors are little sheer pink drawstring purses with pink maribou trim, and pink maribou ponytail holders. All her choice.
I love that my kids know what they want and don't care whether it matches any social norm. I might hate that later, but for now, it's mostly harmless.
Tomorrow we pick up R from camp, and the sounds of S talking to herself and singing to herself and otherwise bouncing off the walls will be complimented again by the sounds of R turning the pages of whatever book she is devouring. It'll be nice to have her back.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Here's a Thought
For her birthday dinner, S asked that we go to Applebee's. At the table kitty-corner to us, in my direct line of sight, there was a family of three - mother, father, and son. The son was probably between two and a half and three years old, and very charming. He had a big round face and a very short hair cut, and a squat little body that still had just the right amount of baby fat. Even his slight squirminess was somehow endearing - maybe because he seemed happy, and his parents seemed happy - both with one another and with him. He reminded me of a healthy little English tyke from some other era. His dad was a round-faced man who wore a baseball cap, and his mom was a tidy brunette with a spring green sweater and short nails neatly painted dark pink. While the three of us waited for our food, and then ate, and chatted amiably or teased each other (more gently in a restaurant than we usually do at home, where the dinner-table silliness can be loud), this other little family waited, and then ate and chatted with one another.
Sometimes the cute little boy gave S significant looks, and obviously, I did my share of glancing their way, since they were right in front of me, as it were. But for the most part, we were just two random families having a random meal at the same time in the same restaurant.
Except I thought about how this little boy is only about three years younger than S, and for all I know, sixteen or seventeen years from now, he and she might randomly meet, fall in love, introduce each other to each other's families, marry, and live happily ever after. Or, just as likely, break one another's hearts. And would I remember that I'd seen them somewhere, once? Would the way his mother tilts her head when she laughs ring a distant bell in my memory? Would his father put on a baseball cap at a family barbecue and suddenly transport my mind back to tonight's dinner?
No. Almost certainly, I'd never recognize then this "first sighting," would have absolutely no idea that we'd ever seen one another before. And how often does this happen to all of us? Life is full of this synchronicity, connectivity in the guise of coincidence. And is it happenstance? Or random but not without meaning, as the movie The Happenstance suggests?
I've written this because it will give me a link where memory would not, should we meet these folks again. They were from out of town, staying in a hotel - I know because they saw other folks, also from out of town, at the table behind ours. Here, from what I could gather, for drag racing at the Infineon. The woman introduced herself to someone as "Tara." So I have a name, something besides the other characteristics to go on, if, for example, we see one another again half a lifetime from now. I have a name, and I have this blog entry. And now, you do too.
Sometimes the cute little boy gave S significant looks, and obviously, I did my share of glancing their way, since they were right in front of me, as it were. But for the most part, we were just two random families having a random meal at the same time in the same restaurant.
Except I thought about how this little boy is only about three years younger than S, and for all I know, sixteen or seventeen years from now, he and she might randomly meet, fall in love, introduce each other to each other's families, marry, and live happily ever after. Or, just as likely, break one another's hearts. And would I remember that I'd seen them somewhere, once? Would the way his mother tilts her head when she laughs ring a distant bell in my memory? Would his father put on a baseball cap at a family barbecue and suddenly transport my mind back to tonight's dinner?
No. Almost certainly, I'd never recognize then this "first sighting," would have absolutely no idea that we'd ever seen one another before. And how often does this happen to all of us? Life is full of this synchronicity, connectivity in the guise of coincidence. And is it happenstance? Or random but not without meaning, as the movie The Happenstance suggests?
I've written this because it will give me a link where memory would not, should we meet these folks again. They were from out of town, staying in a hotel - I know because they saw other folks, also from out of town, at the table behind ours. Here, from what I could gather, for drag racing at the Infineon. The woman introduced herself to someone as "Tara." So I have a name, something besides the other characteristics to go on, if, for example, we see one another again half a lifetime from now. I have a name, and I have this blog entry. And now, you do too.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Private party
Suzanne makes an interesting point about her blogging expectations and about blog rules. I can't say I'm always vague about work, and I can't say that I don't hurt anyone's feelings in my blog. Is that why I don't make this site available to the general public?
No, I actually keep it private for two reasons: one, I don't think anything I have to say is all that interesting to total strangers. And two, I don't know that I want to open up my life and angst and petty or personal triumphs and defeats for the whole world even if some people did find it interesting. Does this make me less of a writer? Or just a more private writer?
For now, I am happy to be linked to by some very fine blogs and leave it at that.
I do have short-term goals for improving the blog. (Blogging daily doesn't necessarily mean blogging well, so I don't consider that an improvement.) I'd like to expand the blog by adding more links to more sites and blogs that are important or interesting to me and possibly to my few readers. And I'd like incorporate some kind of "currently reading" and "just finished reading" column like Suzanne and others have.
And I'd like to post more pictures. It makes a blog more interesting, I think. Beyond that, who knows? There's plenty of room for improvement, though, and that's a good problem to have.
No, I actually keep it private for two reasons: one, I don't think anything I have to say is all that interesting to total strangers. And two, I don't know that I want to open up my life and angst and petty or personal triumphs and defeats for the whole world even if some people did find it interesting. Does this make me less of a writer? Or just a more private writer?
For now, I am happy to be linked to by some very fine blogs and leave it at that.
I do have short-term goals for improving the blog. (Blogging daily doesn't necessarily mean blogging well, so I don't consider that an improvement.) I'd like to expand the blog by adding more links to more sites and blogs that are important or interesting to me and possibly to my few readers. And I'd like incorporate some kind of "currently reading" and "just finished reading" column like Suzanne and others have.
And I'd like to post more pictures. It makes a blog more interesting, I think. Beyond that, who knows? There's plenty of room for improvement, though, and that's a good problem to have.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Be Still and Know
I just finished The Five People You Meet in Heaven - a quick read, even for me. It's all about how seemingly insignificant events in our lives have a greater meaning than we can imagine. It is sometimes too preachy for my taste, but it makes you consider the effect of your actions on earth in the same way a good production of A Christmas Carol might.
It isn't necessarily a Christian heaven that Albom describes. There is no mention of Jesus, and apart from a single word, no voice of God clearly spelled out that I recall.
I believe those who say that God can best be heard in silence. And I have not yet started to practice listening to the silence between sounds - a listening that is so crucial to meditation and prayer. ("Crucial," itself, being a word related to that for the "Cross.") But S, who hasn't been to church in almost nine months, told me Sunday that she has heard God speak to her.
She always seems to reveal these big things while I am driving somewhere and she's sitting behind me in her carseat. I'm then forced to pay attention to the road while wondering what it means when she says, "Once, I heard a voice say 'I am God.'"
In this case, after I'd gotten clarification (I'd briefly thought she'd meant the voice was saying she was God), I told my daughter how great it was that she could hear that voice, and that she must have heard it when she was being very quiet. "Oh no," she said. "I hear God talk to me all the time, even when I'm being noisy."
Depending on your point of view, this is either just a kid being a kid, or the coolest thing imaginable, or I should start saving now for one of the better hospitals - something with nicely mown lawns and new card tables in the Day Room.
"What else does God say to you?" I asked.
"Well, once he said, 'You are the beloved child of me.'"
"I agree."
"And another time, he said, 'You are my daughter.'"
"Also true."
The fact that the conversation did not deteriorate into her reporting that God had said, "You parents should get you lots of Spiderman toys for your birthday." gives me hope in the sacred nature of her experience.
Coincidently, after finishing the Albom book, I opened the below poem in my in box. It's by Ellen Bass, who led the retreat I'd attended.
ASKING DIRECTIONS IN PARIS
Où est le Boulevard Saint Michel?
You pronounce the question carefully.
And when the native stops,
shifting her small sack of groceries,
lifting her manicured hand,
you feel a flicker of accomplishment.
But beyond that, all clarity
dissolves, for the woman
in the expensive shoes
and suit exactly the soft gray
of clouds above the cathedral, does not say
to the right, to the left, straight ahead,
phrases you memorized from tapes
as you drove around your home town
or mumbled into a pocket Berlitz on the plane,
but relays something wholly unintelligible,
some version of: On the corner
he is a shop of jewels in a fountain
and the hotel arrives on short feet.
You listen hard, nodding,
as though your pleasant
disposition, your willingness
to go wherever she tells you,
will make her next words pop up
from this ocean of sound, somewhat
the way a dog hears its name
and the coveted syllable walk.
If you’re brave enough, or very nervous,
you may even admit you don’t understand.
And though evening's coming on and
her family’s waiting, her husband lighting
another Gaulois, the children setting the table,
she repeats it all again, with another
gesture of her lovely hand, from which you glean
no more than you did the first time.
And as you thank her profusely
and set off full of doubt and groundless hope,
you think this must be how it is
with destiny—God explaining
and explaining what you must do,
even willing to hold up dinner for it,
and all you can make out is a few
unconnected phrases, a word or two, a wave
in what you pray is the right direction.
It isn't necessarily a Christian heaven that Albom describes. There is no mention of Jesus, and apart from a single word, no voice of God clearly spelled out that I recall.
I believe those who say that God can best be heard in silence. And I have not yet started to practice listening to the silence between sounds - a listening that is so crucial to meditation and prayer. ("Crucial," itself, being a word related to that for the "Cross.") But S, who hasn't been to church in almost nine months, told me Sunday that she has heard God speak to her.
She always seems to reveal these big things while I am driving somewhere and she's sitting behind me in her carseat. I'm then forced to pay attention to the road while wondering what it means when she says, "Once, I heard a voice say 'I am God.'"
In this case, after I'd gotten clarification (I'd briefly thought she'd meant the voice was saying she was God), I told my daughter how great it was that she could hear that voice, and that she must have heard it when she was being very quiet. "Oh no," she said. "I hear God talk to me all the time, even when I'm being noisy."
Depending on your point of view, this is either just a kid being a kid, or the coolest thing imaginable, or I should start saving now for one of the better hospitals - something with nicely mown lawns and new card tables in the Day Room.
"What else does God say to you?" I asked.
"Well, once he said, 'You are the beloved child of me.'"
"I agree."
"And another time, he said, 'You are my daughter.'"
"Also true."
The fact that the conversation did not deteriorate into her reporting that God had said, "You parents should get you lots of Spiderman toys for your birthday." gives me hope in the sacred nature of her experience.
Coincidently, after finishing the Albom book, I opened the below poem in my in box. It's by Ellen Bass, who led the retreat I'd attended.
ASKING DIRECTIONS IN PARIS
Où est le Boulevard Saint Michel?
You pronounce the question carefully.
And when the native stops,
shifting her small sack of groceries,
lifting her manicured hand,
you feel a flicker of accomplishment.
But beyond that, all clarity
dissolves, for the woman
in the expensive shoes
and suit exactly the soft gray
of clouds above the cathedral, does not say
to the right, to the left, straight ahead,
phrases you memorized from tapes
as you drove around your home town
or mumbled into a pocket Berlitz on the plane,
but relays something wholly unintelligible,
some version of: On the corner
he is a shop of jewels in a fountain
and the hotel arrives on short feet.
You listen hard, nodding,
as though your pleasant
disposition, your willingness
to go wherever she tells you,
will make her next words pop up
from this ocean of sound, somewhat
the way a dog hears its name
and the coveted syllable walk.
If you’re brave enough, or very nervous,
you may even admit you don’t understand.
And though evening's coming on and
her family’s waiting, her husband lighting
another Gaulois, the children setting the table,
she repeats it all again, with another
gesture of her lovely hand, from which you glean
no more than you did the first time.
And as you thank her profusely
and set off full of doubt and groundless hope,
you think this must be how it is
with destiny—God explaining
and explaining what you must do,
even willing to hold up dinner for it,
and all you can make out is a few
unconnected phrases, a word or two, a wave
in what you pray is the right direction.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Parenting the only child
Since S is without her sister this week, and it's her birthday this week, she's reveling in the attention. And she's so full of energy, I don't know if I can make it until Friday. She is literally bouncing off the wall. (I swear I have not fed her crack, though. Honest.) I've contained her in the tub for a little while, but she's alternately singing to herself, having conversations with rubber duckies and a naked Ariel doll, and shouting, "MOM-MEEEE! When are you going to come PLAY with me?!"
I did just speak to a Kaiser advice nurse, encouraged (but not quite dared) by Josh & Julia to do so. Of course, my throat is finally better today, so I'm left to think it really was viral, and I'm over it -- or it was strep, and I think I've beaten it but really it can and will come back any minute now and wreak havoc on my organs, or it was strep and I really have beaten it without antibiotics, if that's possible. The advice nurse must have thought I was crazy because I had half the symptoms of a cold or allergies and half the symptoms of something worse I'd made up in my spare time. I threw in Fifth's Disease, pink eye, and the half marathon just to confuse her. But then again, she probably couldn't fully concentrate on what I was saying anyway because she was too busy reading the section of my file that's flagged "hypochondriac" She eventually used a clever ploy to get me off the phone and stop my "But I don't know if I'm really sick" whining : she made me an appointment for Dr. I-Will-Shame-You-If-You-Are-Late for tomorrow at noon. If I wake up feeling better (please please) then I'll cancel the appointment. If I wake up still with a sore throat, I'll at least go in for a culture. We could all use a little culture now and then.
I did just speak to a Kaiser advice nurse, encouraged (but not quite dared) by Josh & Julia to do so. Of course, my throat is finally better today, so I'm left to think it really was viral, and I'm over it -- or it was strep, and I think I've beaten it but really it can and will come back any minute now and wreak havoc on my organs, or it was strep and I really have beaten it without antibiotics, if that's possible. The advice nurse must have thought I was crazy because I had half the symptoms of a cold or allergies and half the symptoms of something worse I'd made up in my spare time. I threw in Fifth's Disease, pink eye, and the half marathon just to confuse her. But then again, she probably couldn't fully concentrate on what I was saying anyway because she was too busy reading the section of my file that's flagged "hypochondriac" She eventually used a clever ploy to get me off the phone and stop my "But I don't know if I'm really sick" whining : she made me an appointment for Dr. I-Will-Shame-You-If-You-Are-Late for tomorrow at noon. If I wake up feeling better (please please) then I'll cancel the appointment. If I wake up still with a sore throat, I'll at least go in for a culture. We could all use a little culture now and then.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Summer Camp
Today R went off to camp for the week. This place isn't the same without her and her energy, but I know she'll have a great time. It's a Christian Camp, full of Presbyterian kids and counselors. The two counselors for her cabin seem nice - one has a rainbow dyed in her hair and many piercings in her ears.
This week, while R is gone, S will turn 6, and I'll have a particularly challenging week at work, with a visit from a drive manufacturer examining our facilities, and preparation for an upcoming trip to NY for a trade show and an upcoming move to sit in another room in the building.
The neighbor that lives behind us has three pit bulls, one of which has been barking non-stop for hours: the same 4-beat bark pattern over and over again. We've opted to wait and call Animal Control in the morning instead of the Police tonight. D is teasing me for blogging this. He says, "Are you going to blog the event number, too?" No.
But I did want to say that the more exposure I have to other people's dogs and other people's marriages, the better mine look by comparison. That sounds petty, but I don't mean it to. I'm just saying that I'm grateful for what I have.
This week, while R is gone, S will turn 6, and I'll have a particularly challenging week at work, with a visit from a drive manufacturer examining our facilities, and preparation for an upcoming trip to NY for a trade show and an upcoming move to sit in another room in the building.
The neighbor that lives behind us has three pit bulls, one of which has been barking non-stop for hours: the same 4-beat bark pattern over and over again. We've opted to wait and call Animal Control in the morning instead of the Police tonight. D is teasing me for blogging this. He says, "Are you going to blog the event number, too?" No.
But I did want to say that the more exposure I have to other people's dogs and other people's marriages, the better mine look by comparison. That sounds petty, but I don't mean it to. I'm just saying that I'm grateful for what I have.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Hot hot hot
I don't know whether it's the heat or the sore throat or both, but I feel like I've been in a stupor all day. D worked hard on the landscaping in the 200 degree weather, and I took S to dance, took R to riding, then napped for a couple of hours while they had play dates in the afternoon. I woke feeling no better for the sleep, picked up the girls, managed dinner, then went to bed early - only to get up and watch some of Obelix and Asterix in French with D. It's a very silly movie, and I just wish my French were good enough that I could catch the quickly-delivered lines.
I think I'll have to give in and call the dr tomorrow about my throat. I have to brace myself to swallow by the end of each day, and this has been going on for a week. My current home remedies haven't done the trick, and frankly, it's very demoralizing not feeling well. How do people with chronic pain or illness do it? I'm amazed by the courage required.
I think I'll have to give in and call the dr tomorrow about my throat. I have to brace myself to swallow by the end of each day, and this has been going on for a week. My current home remedies haven't done the trick, and frankly, it's very demoralizing not feeling well. How do people with chronic pain or illness do it? I'm amazed by the courage required.
Friday, July 22, 2005
TGIF
It is nice to reach a Friday and be home and know that I don't have to get up and drive for six hours or run 13 miles. The girls have a friend staying overnight and they're just in that giggly pre-sleep stage now (up late!) while I wind down for the day.
No exciting news to report here, apart from the fact that I now suspect I might have strep again, perhaps as a secondary crud after the pink eye. But still! hope springs eternal that I can beat the bug with a good night's sleep instead of anitbiotics. A girl can hope, right?
Gotta check on the kids, now. Good night, all. Or for those of you reading this in the a.m. - good morning!
No exciting news to report here, apart from the fact that I now suspect I might have strep again, perhaps as a secondary crud after the pink eye. But still! hope springs eternal that I can beat the bug with a good night's sleep instead of anitbiotics. A girl can hope, right?
Gotta check on the kids, now. Good night, all. Or for those of you reading this in the a.m. - good morning!
Thursday, July 21, 2005
In the "Could Be Worse" category
Clare has a funny story about how tricky life can be when you're single-parenting a two year old (or, in her case, two) while your husband is in El Salvador with a group of teenagers on an immersion trip.
Why should I complain if my car is dirty? At least I have a car, and a new one at that. Think of all those people who don't!
Sure, I don't agree with the current administration's US Foreign Policy (to put it mildly), but at least I live in a country where I'm allowed to vote. Not every country has elections, and of those that do, women don't always have a voice.
Maybe I grumble about having to clean house, but at least my family has a roof over its head. We could be homeless!
And who am I to gripe about my weight? I have my health. True, my throat has been sore for 5 days straight, but hey! at least I have a throat. Think of all those people who have to make do without.
Uh.
Going back to bed, now....
Why should I complain if my car is dirty? At least I have a car, and a new one at that. Think of all those people who don't!
Sure, I don't agree with the current administration's US Foreign Policy (to put it mildly), but at least I live in a country where I'm allowed to vote. Not every country has elections, and of those that do, women don't always have a voice.
Maybe I grumble about having to clean house, but at least my family has a roof over its head. We could be homeless!
And who am I to gripe about my weight? I have my health. True, my throat has been sore for 5 days straight, but hey! at least I have a throat. Think of all those people who have to make do without.
Uh.
Going back to bed, now....
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
The importance of finding the right man & mailbox
Around the household, there are some sniffles tonight because R has finished reading the Half-Blood Prince. "It's a good book, but it's so sad," she says. If you've read it, you'll know what I mean.
Earlier today, S told me, "When it's time for me to get married, I'm going to go down the line of boys and I'm going ask each one, 'What do you do for your work?' and if any of them say he kills things for his work, then I'm not going to marry him." I thought this showed a remarkable ability to discriminate for one so young.
Later, at dinner, R said, "As for me, when it comes to getting married, I'm going to draw the line at...at..."
While she searched for the right words, I suggested, "Involuntary manslaughter?"
But it turns out her sticking point was that she would not want to marry anyone who, say, leaves every Saturday for work in Los Angeles and doesn't come back until the next Thursday or something.
Picky, picky, picky.
Below are a couple of shots of the little Shinto temple D built while we were gone last week. I guess the trick now is to wait for the spirits to come live there. I'm woefully behind in my Shinto studies, however, so I could be wrong. But having written that, another thought occurs to me. It's possible that one of our mailmen might mistake the temple for a new mail box and put our "Last Chance!" credit card offers and Discover Magazines there. Then no spirit worth his/her ethereal salt will want to inhabit the little place.
I only worry about this because I bet that a very unusual mailbox at our address wouldn't surprise the postmen. After all, our current mail box is a BRASS SADDLE BAG that says "The Patrascu" on it. Not "The Patrascu's" or just "Patrascu," but "The Patrascu" as though the One and Only Patrascu lives here. This odd naming convention is thanks either to my French mother-in-law's incomplete grasp of English grammar, or a typo at the BRASS SADDLE BAG company that she didn't catch or didn't think mattered. We may never resolve that mystery, nor the mystery of why it is that D's mom insists on giving us the kind of gifts (like blinds or flatware or mailboxes) that are a part of everyday life in a home, and are therefore best left to the very specific tastes of the people who will have to live with them every day.
I am an ungrateful wretch, but not so bad that I can do what someone once suggested, which was to "lose" the saddle bag and then say to my mother-in-law, "Can you believe it? Somebody stole our mailbox!" Admittedly, I did practice the phrase several times, "Somebody stole our mailbox!" but where there should have been a note of incredulity in my voice, even I detected only glee.
Earlier today, S told me, "When it's time for me to get married, I'm going to go down the line of boys and I'm going ask each one, 'What do you do for your work?' and if any of them say he kills things for his work, then I'm not going to marry him." I thought this showed a remarkable ability to discriminate for one so young.
Later, at dinner, R said, "As for me, when it comes to getting married, I'm going to draw the line at...at..."
While she searched for the right words, I suggested, "Involuntary manslaughter?"
But it turns out her sticking point was that she would not want to marry anyone who, say, leaves every Saturday for work in Los Angeles and doesn't come back until the next Thursday or something.
Picky, picky, picky.
Below are a couple of shots of the little Shinto temple D built while we were gone last week. I guess the trick now is to wait for the spirits to come live there. I'm woefully behind in my Shinto studies, however, so I could be wrong. But having written that, another thought occurs to me. It's possible that one of our mailmen might mistake the temple for a new mail box and put our "Last Chance!" credit card offers and Discover Magazines there. Then no spirit worth his/her ethereal salt will want to inhabit the little place.
I only worry about this because I bet that a very unusual mailbox at our address wouldn't surprise the postmen. After all, our current mail box is a BRASS SADDLE BAG that says "The Patrascu" on it. Not "The Patrascu's" or just "Patrascu," but "The Patrascu" as though the One and Only Patrascu lives here. This odd naming convention is thanks either to my French mother-in-law's incomplete grasp of English grammar, or a typo at the BRASS SADDLE BAG company that she didn't catch or didn't think mattered. We may never resolve that mystery, nor the mystery of why it is that D's mom insists on giving us the kind of gifts (like blinds or flatware or mailboxes) that are a part of everyday life in a home, and are therefore best left to the very specific tastes of the people who will have to live with them every day.
I am an ungrateful wretch, but not so bad that I can do what someone once suggested, which was to "lose" the saddle bag and then say to my mother-in-law, "Can you believe it? Somebody stole our mailbox!" Admittedly, I did practice the phrase several times, "Somebody stole our mailbox!" but where there should have been a note of incredulity in my voice, even I detected only glee.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
The hired help has the night off
The hired help, Responsibility and Creativity, are taking the night off.
That's right, the usual suspects who contribute to the running of the place are nowhere to be found.
(Of course, Creativity keeps herself either scarce or half-baked anyway, but even Responsibility, who is usually so loud, bossy, and uppity, is also MIA.)
The relief staff today are Lassitude for the swing shift and Entropy for the graveyard. And really, neither can be bothered to post more than this brief announcement. And that's only because HR made them do it.
That's right, the usual suspects who contribute to the running of the place are nowhere to be found.
(Of course, Creativity keeps herself either scarce or half-baked anyway, but even Responsibility, who is usually so loud, bossy, and uppity, is also MIA.)
The relief staff today are Lassitude for the swing shift and Entropy for the graveyard. And really, neither can be bothered to post more than this brief announcement. And that's only because HR made them do it.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Two by two
I love to see the Canada Geese that pass through this part of California during their migrations. I always look anxiously to see that each has its mate, and am sorry for any that don't. (If three travel together, I wonder about how well that arrangement is working out for them.)
I love the call of the geese, and the way they move once they are in the air, as though they proceed ahead just by the force of the will of their long necks.
The girls' daycare provider spent last week at a workshop about cultivating peace, and part of the curriculum was poetry, including this one. I keep re-reading the first few lines.
By Mary Oliver:
Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
I love the call of the geese, and the way they move once they are in the air, as though they proceed ahead just by the force of the will of their long necks.
The girls' daycare provider spent last week at a workshop about cultivating peace, and part of the curriculum was poetry, including this one. I keep re-reading the first few lines.
By Mary Oliver:
Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Cheat
Here's my results from an x-man quiz. Thanks to Josh for the idea. I'm posting it because I'd had it around to post for a while, and I'm plum wiped out from the drive home from Phoenix, too little sleep last night, and the race (which by the way, went well). More details tomorrow, trivial fun today:
 | You scored as Jean Grey. Jean Grey is likely the most powerful X-Man. She loves Cyclops very much but she has a soft spot for Wolverine. She's psychic so she can sense how others are feeling and tries to help them. She also has to control her amazing powers or the malevolent Phoenix entity could take control of her and wreak havoc. Powers: Telekinetic, Telepathic
Most Comprehensive X-Men Personality Quiz created with QuizFarm.com |
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Back home again
It's so good to be home again, even though Paradise has surprised me again by requiring more attention and upkeep that one would expect should be necessary.
D made an incredibly beautiful Shinto shrine out of redwood while we were out of town. I'll request a photo and post it. But I also think [hint, hint D] that he should start his own blog site and document all his cool projects and creations that way.
I'm off in search of a good late pre-race meal and then a good pre-race sleep before the half marathon tomorrow morning. I have to pick up my registration packet between 5:15-6:00 am, and it takes about 40 minutes to get there.
My focus will be on not walking at all, but just enjoying every step. It's a gorgeous route through Sonoma county vineyards with lots of company and lots of water and Cytomax stops, so I should be able to enjoy it.
And then later in the morning, I expect to be writing with the writer's group gals at the Box.
Have I mentioned that it's good to be home again?
D made an incredibly beautiful Shinto shrine out of redwood while we were out of town. I'll request a photo and post it. But I also think [hint, hint D] that he should start his own blog site and document all his cool projects and creations that way.
I'm off in search of a good late pre-race meal and then a good pre-race sleep before the half marathon tomorrow morning. I have to pick up my registration packet between 5:15-6:00 am, and it takes about 40 minutes to get there.
My focus will be on not walking at all, but just enjoying every step. It's a gorgeous route through Sonoma county vineyards with lots of company and lots of water and Cytomax stops, so I should be able to enjoy it.
And then later in the morning, I expect to be writing with the writer's group gals at the Box.
Have I mentioned that it's good to be home again?
Friday, July 15, 2005
Ready to head home
Well, we're not really ready. I could stay here for a good long time, but I guess if I wait any later, I'll be going straight from Phoenix to the Wine Country Half Marathon Sunday morning.
It's be so nice to enjoy the warm (ha!) weather, and swim, and catch up with friends and family. I may spend time on the road home thinking about resuming day-to-day life, but for now, the time away has been markedly un-meditative in that area.
It's not likely I'll find a hotel to stay in with internet access tonight, so this is the blog entry for the day.
Special thanks to Clare for having us!!
It's be so nice to enjoy the warm (ha!) weather, and swim, and catch up with friends and family. I may spend time on the road home thinking about resuming day-to-day life, but for now, the time away has been markedly un-meditative in that area.
It's not likely I'll find a hotel to stay in with internet access tonight, so this is the blog entry for the day.
Special thanks to Clare for having us!!
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Up too late, but worth it
So Clare and I will be hating life when the kids wake up at 6am and we are forced to grope our exhausted way to the coffee maker or (as C. suggested) just bonk them on the heads to make them go back to sleep.
But what would a good visit with an old friend be without staying up too late chatting about everything under the sun?
I had planned to go for a short run before 7am. That is seeming less likely every passing second. I also will be taking the car to a local shop for an oil change before our (estimated) 800 mile drive home tomorrow. Then my half-sister and the cousins are coming over for a swim. We had really nice dinner together tonight at Applebee's - 3 moms, 6 kids and 2 toddlers. The teenage boy at the front desk said to me, "Wow. You sure are brave, taking so many kids out in public."
I wasn't sure whether to say, "Hey - don't you know who you're talking about? We're super Mammas, here" or, "What? Do you think kids are raised in a box? Ya hafta go out into public with them sometimes, you know..."
Anyway, I'm fuzzy around the edges, and not just from the eye (which is better), so I'm signing out...
But what would a good visit with an old friend be without staying up too late chatting about everything under the sun?
I had planned to go for a short run before 7am. That is seeming less likely every passing second. I also will be taking the car to a local shop for an oil change before our (estimated) 800 mile drive home tomorrow. Then my half-sister and the cousins are coming over for a swim. We had really nice dinner together tonight at Applebee's - 3 moms, 6 kids and 2 toddlers. The teenage boy at the front desk said to me, "Wow. You sure are brave, taking so many kids out in public."
I wasn't sure whether to say, "Hey - don't you know who you're talking about? We're super Mammas, here" or, "What? Do you think kids are raised in a box? Ya hafta go out into public with them sometimes, you know..."
Anyway, I'm fuzzy around the edges, and not just from the eye (which is better), so I'm signing out...
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Not exactly catching the red-eye out of town....
Instead, I've managed to catch Pink Eye before coming to Phoenix. I no sooner got here and got settled in at Clare's wonderful big house (one hundred thirteen degrees outside, according to my car's thermometer) then I was gone again, leaving her with 5 children between the ages of 2 and 10 so I could go to an urgent care clinic 20 minutes away to get my eye checked - in case (as the California advice nurse had suggested) I had a scratched cornea. So far, it's only one eye that's affected. I'm just hoping no one else gets this.
In the meantime, my right eye is constantly watering, as if its heard a very sad story that my left eye missed out on. And I'm washing my hand after every wipe, and using the drops I got at the clinic.
I hope to see one of my half-sisters and her family at least once while we're here - maybe tomorrow evening and again Friday morning. I mean, "hope to see" as in I-look-forward-to-visiting-with-them. Not "hope to see" as in if-I-still-have-any-vision-left.
Speaking of vision, though, it does always do me SO MUCH GOOD and gives me so much perspective when I spend time with Clare. This would be true even if she didn't have this very blog as her Home Page. (Can you imagine?!) Of course, maybe she always puts her houseguest's blog site as her Home Page, just to make the guest feel like a valued part of society.
(Good strategy, Clare.)
I wrote a pre-poem in the Pizza Hut in Blythe today. Maybe I can shape it together in the next day or so...
In the meantime, my right eye is constantly watering, as if its heard a very sad story that my left eye missed out on. And I'm washing my hand after every wipe, and using the drops I got at the clinic.
I hope to see one of my half-sisters and her family at least once while we're here - maybe tomorrow evening and again Friday morning. I mean, "hope to see" as in I-look-forward-to-visiting-with-them. Not "hope to see" as in if-I-still-have-any-vision-left.
Speaking of vision, though, it does always do me SO MUCH GOOD and gives me so much perspective when I spend time with Clare. This would be true even if she didn't have this very blog as her Home Page. (Can you imagine?!) Of course, maybe she always puts her houseguest's blog site as her Home Page, just to make the guest feel like a valued part of society.
(Good strategy, Clare.)
I wrote a pre-poem in the Pizza Hut in Blythe today. Maybe I can shape it together in the next day or so...
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Desperate times
Only faced with the prospect of either:
a: breaking my blogging streak, or
b: forcing my mother to lie to the front desk staff at the clubhouse and say that I had to show her something on the internet and therefore could go with her to use the "residents only" computer
would lead me to install a trial version of AOL on my iBook.
Blech. Pttuuueey! This is me spitting the bad taste of AOL out of my mouth. I just don't care for the service. Sorry if that offends any reader. It's just so invasive and busy with intrusive icons and cumbersome, to my thinking.
But this way, I have access via modem and the Mac using Mom's AOL account so I can blog.
The day was beautiful here. It was supposed to be up to 102 degrees, but I don't know that it reached that high. We had breakfast out, we shopped at a huge, loud mall, we came back and had "quiet time" (S and I slept, a bit), then we swam until dusk.
It's getting darker now, but the air outside is the perfect temperature.
S went from being afraid to leave the steps in the pool to throwing herself headlong into the water to swim a few strokes, over and over again. Watching her figure it out made me so proud. I felt like I was watching her learn to walk all over again. There aren't too many of those physical achievement milestones left for either daughter, I think. Learning to ride a bike, for S. Learning to drive, I suppose. But that seems not such a big effort of coordination, somehow. Maybe it's because by then, they're old enough to apply reasoning skills and other learned things to what they're doing.
I'm enjoying watching her go underwater again and again, each time more excited and pleased with herself than the last. What if we all tackled life's challenges that way?
a: breaking my blogging streak, or
b: forcing my mother to lie to the front desk staff at the clubhouse and say that I had to show her something on the internet and therefore could go with her to use the "residents only" computer
would lead me to install a trial version of AOL on my iBook.
Blech. Pttuuueey! This is me spitting the bad taste of AOL out of my mouth. I just don't care for the service. Sorry if that offends any reader. It's just so invasive and busy with intrusive icons and cumbersome, to my thinking.
But this way, I have access via modem and the Mac using Mom's AOL account so I can blog.
The day was beautiful here. It was supposed to be up to 102 degrees, but I don't know that it reached that high. We had breakfast out, we shopped at a huge, loud mall, we came back and had "quiet time" (S and I slept, a bit), then we swam until dusk.
It's getting darker now, but the air outside is the perfect temperature.
S went from being afraid to leave the steps in the pool to throwing herself headlong into the water to swim a few strokes, over and over again. Watching her figure it out made me so proud. I felt like I was watching her learn to walk all over again. There aren't too many of those physical achievement milestones left for either daughter, I think. Learning to ride a bike, for S. Learning to drive, I suppose. But that seems not such a big effort of coordination, somehow. Maybe it's because by then, they're old enough to apply reasoning skills and other learned things to what they're doing.
I'm enjoying watching her go underwater again and again, each time more excited and pleased with herself than the last. What if we all tackled life's challenges that way?
Monday, July 11, 2005
Taken advantage of the opportunities
My mother's computer is dead (corrupt OS, I think, and she doesn't have a Windows disk for me to use to boot or reload). So I'm at my sister's, trying to grab a minute or two to write while everyone is in the other room, not looking. I doubt they'd care much about this blog, but on the other hand, they might be standing over my shoulder, watching me type in a matter of seconds. And that can be intimidating.
It's hot down here, but not as hot as Phoenix will be. We've been just relaxing. Swimming from noon to two (like crazy tourists, spending the hottest part of the day outside). Lots of good food (including the Cosmopolitan I had last night which meant I had my sister's boyfriend drive the girls and me home). We're trying to decide where to eat out tonight; tomorrow, we'll probably shop. Oh yeah, life is hard.
Poetry starting to sneak in around the edges. I'm grateful.
It's hot down here, but not as hot as Phoenix will be. We've been just relaxing. Swimming from noon to two (like crazy tourists, spending the hottest part of the day outside). Lots of good food (including the Cosmopolitan I had last night which meant I had my sister's boyfriend drive the girls and me home). We're trying to decide where to eat out tonight; tomorrow, we'll probably shop. Oh yeah, life is hard.
Poetry starting to sneak in around the edges. I'm grateful.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Best Rest Hotel, Lebec
Greetings from the 'internet cafe' at the Best Rest Hotel, Lebec CA. The cafe consists of a keyboard and monitor in the hallway near the lobby and front desk. There is news on the tv in the "continental breakfast" dining area. Hotels always blast the news, in spite of the fact that many families with young kids may not want to watch it. Looks like hurricane Dennis will be a big one.
My mother has warned me that her computer is not working, so this may mean my only chance to post today, even though it also may mean leaving a way for anyone else at the hotel to know my blog url and even (potentially) login and password.
Let 'em have it, I say. If it's that interesting, maybe I'm doing something right.
Uh...nice hotel, guys, by the way...
My mother has warned me that her computer is not working, so this may mean my only chance to post today, even though it also may mean leaving a way for anyone else at the hotel to know my blog url and even (potentially) login and password.
Let 'em have it, I say. If it's that interesting, maybe I'm doing something right.
Uh...nice hotel, guys, by the way...
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Traveling
Ran for a couple of hours this morning (10 miles), now packing up and getting ready to hit the road. D will stay here and work, and it'll be a girls' getaway week. I expect to read a lot, write, lie in the sun, swim, and get caught up with friends and family.
I'm so grateful that I can do this--have the job, the car, and my health--to travel, take a break from routine, be with loved ones who live far away.
How is this vacation different from others? I am settling more into understanding and accepting who I am, and being okay with it. Or even better than okay. I did not push myself to get packed and get out the door. We'll go when we go, and get there when we get there. It's all fine. It's the journey.
I'm so grateful that I can do this--have the job, the car, and my health--to travel, take a break from routine, be with loved ones who live far away.
How is this vacation different from others? I am settling more into understanding and accepting who I am, and being okay with it. Or even better than okay. I did not push myself to get packed and get out the door. We'll go when we go, and get there when we get there. It's all fine. It's the journey.
Friday, July 08, 2005
Vacation!
Tomorrow, S and I are off to the southern part of the state to see my mother and sister and catch up with R, who flew down alone Tuesday. And then after that, to Phoenix to see Clare! And, if it's possible, to get together with my half-sister and her family. I'm late in contacting & confirming all this with folks, so if you're one of the aforementioned people and would like to confirm plans, please call my cell number.
I will finish getting ready and packing in the morning, after a run.
I can't promise that I'll be able to blog from the road. I'll try very hard to do so.
I will finish getting ready and packing in the morning, after a run.
I can't promise that I'll be able to blog from the road. I'll try very hard to do so.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Just finished reading
The Archivist, by Martha Cooley. (Thanks to Lisa for the loan.)
This is a book that combines an archivist (even better than a librarian,in some ways!), poets, and insanity. My kind of read. I highly recommend it to anyone who has an interest in any of these three things. I guess it was a best seller, and too. I like it in spite of that.
I went to the writer's group meeting tonight (hooray! we're back!) thinking and saying that I had nothing to write, let alone nothing important to write. At all. Like, ever again.
But I came home feeling that I do have things to say, and therefore things to write, and it doesn't even matter who reads those things. Just that I record them.
No, wait. It does of course matter to me that someone else read most of what I write, and that they like it. I'm not that far along the path of enlightenment yet.
Or, in the words of Gir from Invader Zim: "Praise me! PRAISE ME!"
Not that I have ever seen a single Invader Zim episode, mind you. I've just heard that's what he says.
This is a book that combines an archivist (even better than a librarian,in some ways!), poets, and insanity. My kind of read. I highly recommend it to anyone who has an interest in any of these three things. I guess it was a best seller, and too. I like it in spite of that.
I went to the writer's group meeting tonight (hooray! we're back!) thinking and saying that I had nothing to write, let alone nothing important to write. At all. Like, ever again.
But I came home feeling that I do have things to say, and therefore things to write, and it doesn't even matter who reads those things. Just that I record them.
No, wait. It does of course matter to me that someone else read most of what I write, and that they like it. I'm not that far along the path of enlightenment yet.
Or, in the words of Gir from Invader Zim: "Praise me! PRAISE ME!"
Not that I have ever seen a single Invader Zim episode, mind you. I've just heard that's what he says.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
The funny thing about habits
They really don't leave easily. Take this, for instance. This is me, sitting at my computer in pj's, blogging before bed. In spite of having lost my will to go on last Monday. I think I've gotten too old and tired to even have a proper emotional meltdown. So I'm back to the blog.
Besides, how many other things does one do daily that start with "bl-" and end in "og"
I mean, if you hike too much, you might get a blisterog on your foot, and if it's bad enough, it could even be bleedogging. But how often do you hike too much? If your friend sneezes, you could say "blessog you," or at night if you're cold, you can get an extra blanketog. But those are not daily occurrences. They're more once in a blueog moon things. Ok. I don't want to be blatantogly silly. You can fill in the blankogs yourself.
Last night D had one of those really good, respectful, productive 4 hour relationship evaluation/conversations that are what keep a marriage intact. This was after I'd worked a full day then driven R to the airport to fly down and see Grandma. Someone asked me today how I had the energy to have that kind of talk. I said, "I just had it. The talk had to happen." He and I both feel soooo much better for it.
Today, I saw the dentist. For a couple of hours afterwards, I could do a pretty good Elvis snarl, and the novocaine also seemed to affect my ability to open my right eye fully. My nostrils were numb, too, so picking my nose was right out. Stop saying, "Ewww." I'm just stating the facts.
In the evening, I saw my counselor. Tomorrow I'll see the eye dr. I feel like all I need now is a pap smear and I'll be living the modern woman's equivalent of Dorothy Gale in the Emerald City getting her manicure-plus-shoe polish.
"Can you even dye my eyes to match my gown? Jolly old town!"
Besides, how many other things does one do daily that start with "bl-" and end in "og"
I mean, if you hike too much, you might get a blisterog on your foot, and if it's bad enough, it could even be bleedogging. But how often do you hike too much? If your friend sneezes, you could say "blessog you," or at night if you're cold, you can get an extra blanketog. But those are not daily occurrences. They're more once in a blueog moon things. Ok. I don't want to be blatantogly silly. You can fill in the blankogs yourself.
Last night D had one of those really good, respectful, productive 4 hour relationship evaluation/conversations that are what keep a marriage intact. This was after I'd worked a full day then driven R to the airport to fly down and see Grandma. Someone asked me today how I had the energy to have that kind of talk. I said, "I just had it. The talk had to happen." He and I both feel soooo much better for it.
Today, I saw the dentist. For a couple of hours afterwards, I could do a pretty good Elvis snarl, and the novocaine also seemed to affect my ability to open my right eye fully. My nostrils were numb, too, so picking my nose was right out. Stop saying, "Ewww." I'm just stating the facts.
In the evening, I saw my counselor. Tomorrow I'll see the eye dr. I feel like all I need now is a pap smear and I'll be living the modern woman's equivalent of Dorothy Gale in the Emerald City getting her manicure-plus-shoe polish.
"Can you even dye my eyes to match my gown? Jolly old town!"
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Better, thanks
Sleep helped my state of mind only very slightly.
What helped me much more was listening to a CD of Tolle on the way in to work this morning.
I mean, I had been so full of depression that when I said goodbye to my sleeping kids and husband, I was thinking that something might happen to me (besides a comet hitting earth) and I might not see them again.
And I didn't care.
About myself, mostly. But even, also, about them.
Pretty bad, huh?
Now, I'm just trying to figure out what is triggering all this. I don't think it's so much the post-party letdown as the fact that without the distractions of preparing for the party, finishing D's dad's book, and prepping for the Kenwood 10k, I'm faced with looking at other situations in my life that generate a huge level of fear and resentment and (as Tolle) would put it "awaken the pain body" - or awaken a whole ugly mess of psychological pain in me.
As Homer Simpson would say, "STOOPID psychological pain." (Or maybe he wouldn't say that. But you get my point.)
And once I can get clear on what's triggering all the nastiness, I hope to address it in the most positive, present way possible, or to let it go of it completely. If I can.
Arrrg.
Excuse a bit more of what must sound like psycho-babble mumbo jumbo jargon, but in spite of the level of depression I'm feeling, I'm now (after the drive to work) much more confident in the transformative power of being positive and doing things through love instead of fear.
Doesn't mean any of this is easy, but it means I think I can find a place, here and now, where it will *be* easy. Or where "easy/difficult" will be just two more labels my brain wants to give to situations that don't, in the great cosmic scheme of things, matter at all.
What helped me much more was listening to a CD of Tolle on the way in to work this morning.
I mean, I had been so full of depression that when I said goodbye to my sleeping kids and husband, I was thinking that something might happen to me (besides a comet hitting earth) and I might not see them again.
And I didn't care.
About myself, mostly. But even, also, about them.
Pretty bad, huh?
Now, I'm just trying to figure out what is triggering all this. I don't think it's so much the post-party letdown as the fact that without the distractions of preparing for the party, finishing D's dad's book, and prepping for the Kenwood 10k, I'm faced with looking at other situations in my life that generate a huge level of fear and resentment and (as Tolle) would put it "awaken the pain body" - or awaken a whole ugly mess of psychological pain in me.
As Homer Simpson would say, "STOOPID psychological pain." (Or maybe he wouldn't say that. But you get my point.)
And once I can get clear on what's triggering all the nastiness, I hope to address it in the most positive, present way possible, or to let it go of it completely. If I can.
Arrrg.
Excuse a bit more of what must sound like psycho-babble mumbo jumbo jargon, but in spite of the level of depression I'm feeling, I'm now (after the drive to work) much more confident in the transformative power of being positive and doing things through love instead of fear.
Doesn't mean any of this is easy, but it means I think I can find a place, here and now, where it will *be* easy. Or where "easy/difficult" will be just two more labels my brain wants to give to situations that don't, in the great cosmic scheme of things, matter at all.
Monday, July 04, 2005
If a comet were to hit the planet
So the Nasa impactor hit the Tempel 1 comet.
D and I were joking that it hit just as planned, except that now the comet is going to collide with the earth in less than 48 hours.
Right now, I feel so depressed and defeated, I don't think it would matter if the comet hit the earth.
I don't care.
I feel like giving up.
***
Ahem.
This little episode of angst and despondency was (probably) brought to you by the post-party let down, exhaustion, sunburn and the after effects of the early morning's 10k race. It might also have been brought to you by a couple other things in my life that are so not okay, I don't know where to begin to fix them.
I don't know whether I'll keep up the blogging daily. Screw the sushi.
Sleep might help much of the above stuff go away and return my usually functional coping skills. Or it may just be that I am developing (or already have?) some bipolar issues.
Whatever.
Like I said, I don't care.
D and I were joking that it hit just as planned, except that now the comet is going to collide with the earth in less than 48 hours.
Right now, I feel so depressed and defeated, I don't think it would matter if the comet hit the earth.
I don't care.
I feel like giving up.
***
Ahem.
This little episode of angst and despondency was (probably) brought to you by the post-party let down, exhaustion, sunburn and the after effects of the early morning's 10k race. It might also have been brought to you by a couple other things in my life that are so not okay, I don't know where to begin to fix them.
I don't know whether I'll keep up the blogging daily. Screw the sushi.
Sleep might help much of the above stuff go away and return my usually functional coping skills. Or it may just be that I am developing (or already have?) some bipolar issues.
Whatever.
Like I said, I don't care.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Post-party
People came. They met one another, chatted, ate, drank, chatted some more, then left. I guess that made it a successful party. No one got hurt. No one cried, except at 9pm when one 5 year old girl was sad about having to go home. Of course, maybe my expectations are too low? Maybe one judges the success of the party based on more the above criteria.
Anyway, I want to do fuller justice to the experience, but I also want to sleep more than 7 hours before tomorrow's 10k run. So I'll stop now.
For those of you who are reading this and were here today, thanks.
Anyway, I want to do fuller justice to the experience, but I also want to sleep more than 7 hours before tomorrow's 10k run. So I'll stop now.
For those of you who are reading this and were here today, thanks.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Transforming the property
Yes, there's nothing like knowing you'll have company to inspire one to work on the house and grounds.
The end result will be far from perfect, but much better than if we'd done nothing and wonderful to enjoy after the get-together.
It did add a twist to the preparations that D brought home another truckload of wood today. But we'll have a very cozy winter!
Only a few [dozen] things to do in the morning, and then we will relax and enjoy the rest of the weekend.
Not that I haven't been enjoying this, actually. Every moment, on its own, has been good.
I plan to release the edited memoir tomorrow and be free to work on MY OWN words on a page instead. I also expect the quality of the blogs to improve as a result, too.
The end result will be far from perfect, but much better than if we'd done nothing and wonderful to enjoy after the get-together.
It did add a twist to the preparations that D brought home another truckload of wood today. But we'll have a very cozy winter!
Only a few [dozen] things to do in the morning, and then we will relax and enjoy the rest of the weekend.
Not that I haven't been enjoying this, actually. Every moment, on its own, has been good.
I plan to release the edited memoir tomorrow and be free to work on MY OWN words on a page instead. I also expect the quality of the blogs to improve as a result, too.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Asleep at the wheel
Actually, just asleep at the keyboard, My productivity has plummeted.
It's taken me 5 minutes to write two sentences, waking myself up between the two.
Plus the DSL is still having problems.
So this is short but short (not even sweet).
All for now.
g'night
It's taken me 5 minutes to write two sentences, waking myself up between the two.
Plus the DSL is still having problems.
So this is short but short (not even sweet).
All for now.
g'night
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