I am feeling so good tonight, it is as though there might actually be a light after the storm type feeling. There are so many reasons why, I couldn't possibly list them all. But you know I am going to list some...
I spent a while lying in my son's bed with my head under the covers looking at different colored stars with my grandson today. He has a turtle that projects tiny stars and we had a lot of fun. I also spent time doing a great puzzle with him. It is really a whole set of doors, each one locking a different way. One with a hook, one with a chain, one with a latch, etc. I think by this time next month there will be no baby proof things anywhere, that he can't figure out. We built things with our blocks and hid in my bed when we heard his Daddy coming. I am getting younger every day.
That in itself is reason enough to be happy, but there is more. I made a pot roast to take upstairs for Barbie and Lennon to eat tonight and Bobby when he gets home after midnight. I gave Chauncey a bath in a dish tub and he was very good until he got back on the floor. Then he was so feisty I gave up trying to brush him until later.
I watched the last night of the Democratic Convention and found myself with teary eyes more than once. I know so many people who are in dire straits after working so hard for an entire lifetime. These are people who sometimes worked two and three jobs to give their children a decent life. These are people being milked of everything they have saved by the rise of gasoline prices and health insurance and businesses who care more for the bottom line than their employees, or farmers and small businesses who are barely staying afloat. I heard honesty and common sense tonight. I heard hope.
I have an apartment, a home life, a family, an income, a car, and reasonable health. I have a deep abiding faith and I am filled with love and these are just the highlights of my life.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
The Music Room
I have a music room, something I have wanted for a very long time. It is a room that holds instruments, my piano, flute, drums, dulcimer, bells and sheet music, or books of all sorts. My Native American flute stays in the living room right now, up near my most sacred things. It is something I tend to play more as a meditation than entertainment. Although I cannot say that all of these instruments do not fulfill that at sometime or another too.
My son has brought his guitar down and played it in the music room and Lennon has his own drums and bells there. It is my dream that we will all once more play together, here.
Lennon and I have played the piano together. He loves it when I play and he carefully uses one or two fingers on the upper register to add his part. Bobby and I have played a duet on the piano, but have yet to work out the logistics for piano and guitar. Maybe someday we will get everyone else here too.
In the meantime the room is filled with laughter and joy, perhaps the most beautiful music of all.
My son has brought his guitar down and played it in the music room and Lennon has his own drums and bells there. It is my dream that we will all once more play together, here.
Lennon and I have played the piano together. He loves it when I play and he carefully uses one or two fingers on the upper register to add his part. Bobby and I have played a duet on the piano, but have yet to work out the logistics for piano and guitar. Maybe someday we will get everyone else here too.
In the meantime the room is filled with laughter and joy, perhaps the most beautiful music of all.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
We Are Not Sheep
I am, perhaps, the last generation of women in this country, who truly had some thoughts about whether women belong in the home, or in the work force, while their children are in their young and formative years. It seems strange that this could be true since my German great great grandmother was a physician before women generally did such things and my own favorite and closest grandmother voted in the election of 1920 as a twenty one year old, very liberated woman. (And by the way, she did not vote for Harding.) Children belong in the best child centered environment that is possible. What that is depends on so many things.
I went to college in 1968 convinced that we could change the world. We were the post World War II boom babies and there were enough of us to make a real difference. We were going to do it better than anyone before us. We would bring plenty to a land that had plenty, but kept a tight fist on much of it. We would bring understanding to a country that was well educated and affluent and capable of seeing that peace comes from people who don't feel down trodden and used. We would end the ridiculous and dangerous practices of racism, bigotry, prejudice and intolerance in all its forms. We were the children of light.
We were not the first people to try this, or want it, but we had the numbers and the youth and what felt like an infinite desire to do whatever it took. Even though we were not the very first, we were still the point guard for ideas that people in all walks of life seem to find threatening. The entrenched idea that the wealthy earned their privileges and place in life through hard work, prudent choices and and a generally better type of personality than those who were not wealthy is hard to disprove. Even though many wealthy people have simply inherited their wealth from doting relatives who may, or may not, have been fine upstanding citizens. Money does speak. Unburdened by the wearing work a day life of trying to put food on the table and keep their children healthy, those with money can grease the way to bigger and better things for themselves if they choose to, or for causes they feel are worthy.
Our generation dealt with free love, still not understanding that the right to something does not negate the consequences of it. We women found ourselves entering a world where we were expected to be good wives and coming out on the other side a few years later expected to forge a world of our own under shifting rules that no one had quite worked out.
It was an exciting and frightening time and I worried about the correct way to rear my children. Like most people everywhere, I wanted the best for them. Many women today are still fighting under an invisible ceiling, but at least they know it is there and they have grown up knowing they have a right to do the very best they can for themselves and everyone else in all situations.
It has often seemed that we lost much of our energy and hope and gained very little after forty years, but that is not true and this year is the best and brightest sign I have seen that this is so.
Four years ago I heard an unknown black man speak at the Democratic Convention and I was extraordinarily moved. This year that same black man and a white woman both ran for president of the United States of America, what a beautiful sign of the times this is! It is important not to forget that they are running, not just against prejudices underlied by deep fears and ignorance, but also against a regime that has made no attempt to cover up its heavy handed and deeply questionable path to a country ruled by the rich and for the rich.
And, if you foster some idea that your vote doesn't count, be sure you understand that soon it may really not. What is now perceived as desperate times will be only fond memories of what happened on the cusp of the new world where the ruling rich become more and more elite. You may think you are a part of them now, but don't fool yourself into sense of complacency. Most of us don't have a clue what rich really is.
As Edmond Burke said, "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." Vote. Vote with your head and your heart, but don't stay home and don't vote based simply on trite sayings and mud slinging commercials. We are not sheep in Orwell's book. We are intelligent men and women who each need to fulfill our part of being a country floundering on the very ideals that created it.
I went to college in 1968 convinced that we could change the world. We were the post World War II boom babies and there were enough of us to make a real difference. We were going to do it better than anyone before us. We would bring plenty to a land that had plenty, but kept a tight fist on much of it. We would bring understanding to a country that was well educated and affluent and capable of seeing that peace comes from people who don't feel down trodden and used. We would end the ridiculous and dangerous practices of racism, bigotry, prejudice and intolerance in all its forms. We were the children of light.
We were not the first people to try this, or want it, but we had the numbers and the youth and what felt like an infinite desire to do whatever it took. Even though we were not the very first, we were still the point guard for ideas that people in all walks of life seem to find threatening. The entrenched idea that the wealthy earned their privileges and place in life through hard work, prudent choices and and a generally better type of personality than those who were not wealthy is hard to disprove. Even though many wealthy people have simply inherited their wealth from doting relatives who may, or may not, have been fine upstanding citizens. Money does speak. Unburdened by the wearing work a day life of trying to put food on the table and keep their children healthy, those with money can grease the way to bigger and better things for themselves if they choose to, or for causes they feel are worthy.
Our generation dealt with free love, still not understanding that the right to something does not negate the consequences of it. We women found ourselves entering a world where we were expected to be good wives and coming out on the other side a few years later expected to forge a world of our own under shifting rules that no one had quite worked out.
It was an exciting and frightening time and I worried about the correct way to rear my children. Like most people everywhere, I wanted the best for them. Many women today are still fighting under an invisible ceiling, but at least they know it is there and they have grown up knowing they have a right to do the very best they can for themselves and everyone else in all situations.
It has often seemed that we lost much of our energy and hope and gained very little after forty years, but that is not true and this year is the best and brightest sign I have seen that this is so.
Four years ago I heard an unknown black man speak at the Democratic Convention and I was extraordinarily moved. This year that same black man and a white woman both ran for president of the United States of America, what a beautiful sign of the times this is! It is important not to forget that they are running, not just against prejudices underlied by deep fears and ignorance, but also against a regime that has made no attempt to cover up its heavy handed and deeply questionable path to a country ruled by the rich and for the rich.
And, if you foster some idea that your vote doesn't count, be sure you understand that soon it may really not. What is now perceived as desperate times will be only fond memories of what happened on the cusp of the new world where the ruling rich become more and more elite. You may think you are a part of them now, but don't fool yourself into sense of complacency. Most of us don't have a clue what rich really is.
As Edmond Burke said, "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." Vote. Vote with your head and your heart, but don't stay home and don't vote based simply on trite sayings and mud slinging commercials. We are not sheep in Orwell's book. We are intelligent men and women who each need to fulfill our part of being a country floundering on the very ideals that created it.
The Interpretation Would Be All Yours
I seem to be writing about such mundane things lately, but the deeper levels of my life are much to intricate to even write about symbolically.
It would be like writing about a piece of music and believing that people could really hear it. I did once read about a lovely Debussy piece and recognized it when I next heard it, but I could not begin to tell you why. It is possible I really had heard it before and just forgotten.
I could tell you the words to tunes, but how would I express the chords and the glissando's? How could I tell you how haunting one phrase was compared to another that made my heart soar? I could say this part was very soft and sweet and this one dark and disturbing, but the interpretation would all be yours.
It is the same way with my life in this moment.
Monday, August 25, 2008
West of Eden
Today was Elizabeth's birthday.
I love trying to find just the right gift, but as time goes on, both finances and ideas start to shrink. Asking someone what they want for their birthday almost never works. Most people I know have everything I can afford to buy them and would never ask for the big things they might like anyway. Ask what they want and it is likely to be, "peace on earth, goodwill to all," which is an excellent choice, but way beyond my means.
Sometimes I just give money. Teenagers especially love that. It means they get to go shopping, but adults often end up using the money to pay the water bill, or buy diapers, neither of which are world class presents.
So, I was proud of myself when I thought of a book she might like. One of her favorite people is Dorothy Parker. One of my favorite authors in The New Yorker is David Sedaris. He has a sort of dark, irreverent, honest way of telling a tale that generally grabs my attention and makes me laugh. Albeit a sort of sinister laugh, but a real laugh all the same.
I had a hard time figuring out which book to give her. They never put all the good stories in one place, but I finally picked one out and gave it to her at Play Land this evening, which is where sweet mommies and daddies go with their two year olds, grammas, and godfathers for a birthday snack.
All is well here in the highlands where butterflies fill the air during the day, the night air is chilly enough to require a blanket, and kissing cousins sometimes get too close.
I love trying to find just the right gift, but as time goes on, both finances and ideas start to shrink. Asking someone what they want for their birthday almost never works. Most people I know have everything I can afford to buy them and would never ask for the big things they might like anyway. Ask what they want and it is likely to be, "peace on earth, goodwill to all," which is an excellent choice, but way beyond my means.
Sometimes I just give money. Teenagers especially love that. It means they get to go shopping, but adults often end up using the money to pay the water bill, or buy diapers, neither of which are world class presents.
So, I was proud of myself when I thought of a book she might like. One of her favorite people is Dorothy Parker. One of my favorite authors in The New Yorker is David Sedaris. He has a sort of dark, irreverent, honest way of telling a tale that generally grabs my attention and makes me laugh. Albeit a sort of sinister laugh, but a real laugh all the same.
I had a hard time figuring out which book to give her. They never put all the good stories in one place, but I finally picked one out and gave it to her at Play Land this evening, which is where sweet mommies and daddies go with their two year olds, grammas, and godfathers for a birthday snack.
All is well here in the highlands where butterflies fill the air during the day, the night air is chilly enough to require a blanket, and kissing cousins sometimes get too close.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Oh Nuts!
There are more nuts in this world than you could ever imagine and I seem to run into them all. I really do not like peanut butter. I like the looks, the smell, the way it spreads, but not the taste. You cannot imagine how many ways there are to use peanut butter in otherwise perfectly wonderful foods. I have bought what I thought was butterscotch cream pie only to discover is was peanut butter pie! It lurks in cookies, cakes, candy, almost anything that is sweet.
However, peanuts are not the only nut. There are walnuts, which I find more useful for staining fingers and furniture than eating. They have a strange salty taste that reminds me of watermelons. No one else ever finds this to be true, but it is still the most overwhelming taste I take away from those times I was forced to eat something with walnuts in it.
Cashews are not bad in my opinion, although the cost really does not justify my buying them for me alone. I have a friend who uses cashews in all sorts of things I would never dream of. He even put them in meatloaf once, which he still denies, but who could imagine something like that? Another friend likes it as cashew butter which I found palatable and much better than the alternatives at the time.
Pecans are probably my favorite, but that is because I make an awesome pecan pie and what could be bad about all the eggs, butter and sugar, except maybe a heart attack. I also like pecan pralines and pecan cookies. Pecans seem to marry themselves to brown sugar and I was born loving anything butterscotch, or brown sugary, or maple sugary.
Then there are the garden variety of nuts that make this world a more interesting place. Without them, who would test our patience and wisdom? Without them, how would modern day Merlins find ways for young Arthurs and Galahads to prove themselves? Who else would dream of writing about the mundane in such unique and witty ways? Are they interesting? Absolutely! Easy to live with? About as easy as living with a cat, who after years of freedom is adopted by a new owner and suddenly discovers both his privates and claws are all gone. Trust is not in his vocabulary.
I am surrounded by nuts, some are sweet, some are bitter, a few are okay and one or two appear to be here just to see if they can drive me nuts.
However, peanuts are not the only nut. There are walnuts, which I find more useful for staining fingers and furniture than eating. They have a strange salty taste that reminds me of watermelons. No one else ever finds this to be true, but it is still the most overwhelming taste I take away from those times I was forced to eat something with walnuts in it.
Cashews are not bad in my opinion, although the cost really does not justify my buying them for me alone. I have a friend who uses cashews in all sorts of things I would never dream of. He even put them in meatloaf once, which he still denies, but who could imagine something like that? Another friend likes it as cashew butter which I found palatable and much better than the alternatives at the time.
Pecans are probably my favorite, but that is because I make an awesome pecan pie and what could be bad about all the eggs, butter and sugar, except maybe a heart attack. I also like pecan pralines and pecan cookies. Pecans seem to marry themselves to brown sugar and I was born loving anything butterscotch, or brown sugary, or maple sugary.
Then there are the garden variety of nuts that make this world a more interesting place. Without them, who would test our patience and wisdom? Without them, how would modern day Merlins find ways for young Arthurs and Galahads to prove themselves? Who else would dream of writing about the mundane in such unique and witty ways? Are they interesting? Absolutely! Easy to live with? About as easy as living with a cat, who after years of freedom is adopted by a new owner and suddenly discovers both his privates and claws are all gone. Trust is not in his vocabulary.
I am surrounded by nuts, some are sweet, some are bitter, a few are okay and one or two appear to be here just to see if they can drive me nuts.
Let Go Of The Lead Balloon
Some people grow up believing that misery is the norm, that all the world is hard and painful and they are just waiting for the next unhappy surprise. Life among people who don't provide these expected requirements can be frightening. The security of such a world creates an anxiety in these people that is just waiting to crash down on their heads once it materializes and gains enough momentum. Light is scary.
My heart goes out to them. I did not grow up this way. At least I am pretty sure I did not, but I did live under some of the same terrible restrictions for many years as a grown-up. All things are tempered by the dark cloud that looms, if not in sight, just out of it. Every joy is dulled by the knowledge that soon something bad will happen and nothing can stop it ahead of time.
One of the great joys I have now, is the knowledge that every moment must be savored. It is not enough to get a taste of something and hurry on to the next moment. Each moment must be inhaled in a search for the deep rich bouquet that accompanies it, then it must be sipped and allowed to settle in a burst of air bubbles on my tongue before it slides down my throat in a velvety smooth waterfall of appreciation.
The mellowness that follows sets the scene for the next moment and life is good, very very good. It is one of the boons for having survived the past. It is part of the wisdom of living past the age of necessity.
I want to take those I see living for the next hurtful moment and tell them to let go. Doom and gloom are only masquerading as black holes. In reality they are only as heavy as you allow them to be, but that is not always true. Life can be terrible, but it is seldom as terrible as I expect it to be. In fact, in most moments life is okay in and of that instant.
The trick is to learn how to stretch these instants out and enjoy them without thoughts of the past or the future, because as Thich Nhat Hahn says, "In this moment I can smile." Learning to live among these moments is worth whatever it takes.
My heart goes out to them. I did not grow up this way. At least I am pretty sure I did not, but I did live under some of the same terrible restrictions for many years as a grown-up. All things are tempered by the dark cloud that looms, if not in sight, just out of it. Every joy is dulled by the knowledge that soon something bad will happen and nothing can stop it ahead of time.
One of the great joys I have now, is the knowledge that every moment must be savored. It is not enough to get a taste of something and hurry on to the next moment. Each moment must be inhaled in a search for the deep rich bouquet that accompanies it, then it must be sipped and allowed to settle in a burst of air bubbles on my tongue before it slides down my throat in a velvety smooth waterfall of appreciation.
The mellowness that follows sets the scene for the next moment and life is good, very very good. It is one of the boons for having survived the past. It is part of the wisdom of living past the age of necessity.
I want to take those I see living for the next hurtful moment and tell them to let go. Doom and gloom are only masquerading as black holes. In reality they are only as heavy as you allow them to be, but that is not always true. Life can be terrible, but it is seldom as terrible as I expect it to be. In fact, in most moments life is okay in and of that instant.
The trick is to learn how to stretch these instants out and enjoy them without thoughts of the past or the future, because as Thich Nhat Hahn says, "In this moment I can smile." Learning to live among these moments is worth whatever it takes.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
And the winner is....
I used to love a picture I cut out of National Geographic a long long time ago. It showed two elderly people dressed in farm clothes, but seeming to have the ultimate connection. I envied those people. It was what I have always dreamed of.
Obviously either I am not made for this type of thing, or I just haven't discovered something yet, but I don't think about it too much anymore. Today was the exception. Everyone at the grocery store seemed to be half of an elderly couple. Everyone also seemed to have the man pushing the cart and the woman following along behind him like a slow child, arms at her sides, head slightly down.
It made me wonder lots of things, not least of which was, is this the way people survive and maintain these long relationships? Does the woman have to acquiesce, or at least pretend to? Then I wondered how happy these people both were, by themselves and as a couple? Of course I will never know for sure, but something happened just before I left the store.
I passed a man pushing his cart with great purpose, followed by the wife with downcast eyes and hanging arms, but just before she passed out of my sight, the woman looked up and gave me the most victorious smile. As if saying, see? I got him and I kept him!
It couldn't have been any plainer if she had climbed up on a pedestal and beamed while they played the national anthem before awarding her a gold medal.
Obviously either I am not made for this type of thing, or I just haven't discovered something yet, but I don't think about it too much anymore. Today was the exception. Everyone at the grocery store seemed to be half of an elderly couple. Everyone also seemed to have the man pushing the cart and the woman following along behind him like a slow child, arms at her sides, head slightly down.
It made me wonder lots of things, not least of which was, is this the way people survive and maintain these long relationships? Does the woman have to acquiesce, or at least pretend to? Then I wondered how happy these people both were, by themselves and as a couple? Of course I will never know for sure, but something happened just before I left the store.
I passed a man pushing his cart with great purpose, followed by the wife with downcast eyes and hanging arms, but just before she passed out of my sight, the woman looked up and gave me the most victorious smile. As if saying, see? I got him and I kept him!
It couldn't have been any plainer if she had climbed up on a pedestal and beamed while they played the national anthem before awarding her a gold medal.
I Met A Dog Who Wasn't There
Tonight I am sharing something that is strange. It might put me at the top of the list for those soonest to go to funny farms, but I still need to write about it.
Chauncey has been very independent since we moved here. He may sleep with me, or he may sleep in his own bed, or even on the living room couch. I know when he is with me, because I have to life him up onto the bed. Also he has learned to bark whenever the dogs upstairs bark. I don't know why he does it. Maybe it just seems like the right thing to do. After all dogs are the best socialize-rs and teachers of other dogs. But, whatever his reasons are, it is annoying and loud. His shrill little bark comes like an echo after each of their deep ones.
When I am in the bedroom, I often see him sitting in the hallway watching me. Usually it is just out of the corner of my eye, because I am in there doing something else like making the bed, or folding clothes. Twice now, I have seen him, or thought I did, only to remember that he is outside in the yard!
Today I was taking a nap in the afternoon, something I do frequently if I am too tired. Chauncey was in bed with me laying right up next to my legs. I woke up and thought I saw someone disappear into the kitchen and heard a garbled whisper, "Shshh, Gramma's sleeping." I thought it must be Barbie and Lennon even though they have never come in without calling first or knocking and waiting until I open the door. I jumped up and ran out to the kitchen, but no one was there.
Then I realized that Chauncey was still in bed with me and he hadn't barked, or jumped up, something he does automatically if someone knocks, or opens the door.I opened the front door and my big plant holder had been knocked over, my spider plant was on the ground and my table on the other side was knocked over by the plant holder, breaking my little white statue of a fairy riding a turtle. I think of her as my Venus de Milo on a turtle and am sad to have her in so many pieces.
I thought maybe Barbie had heard the crash and come down to check on us, so I called her and she said no. She heard the crash, but that was all.
It was probably Pumpkin, the cat who knocked things over, but the rest must have been a very lucid dream.
Chauncey has been very independent since we moved here. He may sleep with me, or he may sleep in his own bed, or even on the living room couch. I know when he is with me, because I have to life him up onto the bed. Also he has learned to bark whenever the dogs upstairs bark. I don't know why he does it. Maybe it just seems like the right thing to do. After all dogs are the best socialize-rs and teachers of other dogs. But, whatever his reasons are, it is annoying and loud. His shrill little bark comes like an echo after each of their deep ones.
When I am in the bedroom, I often see him sitting in the hallway watching me. Usually it is just out of the corner of my eye, because I am in there doing something else like making the bed, or folding clothes. Twice now, I have seen him, or thought I did, only to remember that he is outside in the yard!
Today I was taking a nap in the afternoon, something I do frequently if I am too tired. Chauncey was in bed with me laying right up next to my legs. I woke up and thought I saw someone disappear into the kitchen and heard a garbled whisper, "Shshh, Gramma's sleeping." I thought it must be Barbie and Lennon even though they have never come in without calling first or knocking and waiting until I open the door. I jumped up and ran out to the kitchen, but no one was there.
Then I realized that Chauncey was still in bed with me and he hadn't barked, or jumped up, something he does automatically if someone knocks, or opens the door.I opened the front door and my big plant holder had been knocked over, my spider plant was on the ground and my table on the other side was knocked over by the plant holder, breaking my little white statue of a fairy riding a turtle. I think of her as my Venus de Milo on a turtle and am sad to have her in so many pieces.
I thought maybe Barbie had heard the crash and come down to check on us, so I called her and she said no. She heard the crash, but that was all.
It was probably Pumpkin, the cat who knocked things over, but the rest must have been a very lucid dream.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Business, Mountain Time
I feel like I have made the transition to this southern mountain town quite efficiently. Well, I did feel that way until this happened and caused me to think it over. I received another bill for my auto insurance, only this time it came with another set of insurance cards saying I owed more money and it was only good until October! It made no sense.
I gathered up check numbers and dates for all the auto insurance coverage I have paid for since April and it was an astounding amount. So, I went to my agent's office to talk with his auto person. The man was very friendly. He remembered me quite well. I was one of two new people he'd transferred insurance for that day. He asked how I liked my new job and I reminded him that I am the one who just came to play with my grandson. He asked if I missed Florida and I told him I was from Illinois, where his Home Office was. Then he asked how things were going here and how I liked it.
It was a strange moment. I really do like it here very much, but how are things going? The place I bought my refrigerator from keeps sending everything to my Illinois address. I guess I should just be glad they didn't send the refrigerator there. My new bank told me my checks would come in seven to ten days and they would be free. After three weeks I called to see how the checks were coming and no one answered the phone at my bank. I finally called the main office and it turns out no one ordered my checks! I installed Internet and the man who came to connect it was kept on hold for three hours by his own company. He finally left without actually hooking me up. I did it myself later in the evening. Now my insurance company was billing me for another large amount and telling me it was good for three months less than before!
I must say that people here do business much differently than I am used to. My agent's assistant finally called his home office and they put him on hold. He eventually assured me that I would get a refund and as soon as he knew the whole story he would give me a call. I asked him to check my telephone number to be sure he had the correct one. I didn't tell him it was because he had promised to call me three weeks ago with the name of a good mechanic and never did. Had he not been so adamant about it, I wouldn't have really expected him to call, but I need to get the next call.
He looked at me and started to say, "Of course I do," but then he stopped and said, "Maybe you better look."
And I did.
I gathered up check numbers and dates for all the auto insurance coverage I have paid for since April and it was an astounding amount. So, I went to my agent's office to talk with his auto person. The man was very friendly. He remembered me quite well. I was one of two new people he'd transferred insurance for that day. He asked how I liked my new job and I reminded him that I am the one who just came to play with my grandson. He asked if I missed Florida and I told him I was from Illinois, where his Home Office was. Then he asked how things were going here and how I liked it.
It was a strange moment. I really do like it here very much, but how are things going? The place I bought my refrigerator from keeps sending everything to my Illinois address. I guess I should just be glad they didn't send the refrigerator there. My new bank told me my checks would come in seven to ten days and they would be free. After three weeks I called to see how the checks were coming and no one answered the phone at my bank. I finally called the main office and it turns out no one ordered my checks! I installed Internet and the man who came to connect it was kept on hold for three hours by his own company. He finally left without actually hooking me up. I did it myself later in the evening. Now my insurance company was billing me for another large amount and telling me it was good for three months less than before!
I must say that people here do business much differently than I am used to. My agent's assistant finally called his home office and they put him on hold. He eventually assured me that I would get a refund and as soon as he knew the whole story he would give me a call. I asked him to check my telephone number to be sure he had the correct one. I didn't tell him it was because he had promised to call me three weeks ago with the name of a good mechanic and never did. Had he not been so adamant about it, I wouldn't have really expected him to call, but I need to get the next call.
He looked at me and started to say, "Of course I do," but then he stopped and said, "Maybe you better look."
And I did.
Things
I am a student and if I ever doubted it, this is the year to remind me. I ordered a set of Kapla blocks for Lennon (and me too, of course.) They are well made, properly balanced and easy to build with. They are also not easily outgrown. I had hoped to get them and bring Lennon downstairs after carefully setting them out for him to play with, but it didn't go that way.
The dogs scared off the delivery guy who dumped them unceremoniously on the side patio and left. My son found the box and brought it in to where Lennon and I were setting up his train track. Lennon, who gets packages from his other grandma nearly every day just knew it had to be something for him. I tried to make him forget about them, but who can forget a newly wrapped box? So then, I pretended to try and open it and said with a sigh, that we would just have to wait. I could not get past the tape.
Lennon took off for the bathroom and said, "I need my men!" I bit. I went in and there were a bunch of his super heroes drying out in the bottom of the bath tub. I scooped them up, glad for the diversion, and was going to help him carry them, but he said, "You carry those. I just need Wolverine."
Wolverine has Edward Scissorhands type fingers and Lennon figured he was the best bet for cutting through all the tape. Of course Wolverine is a three inch plastic super figure, but after such a creative solution, we had to open the box. Daddy produced a knife and the blocks were kind of anti-climatic after that.
Isn't that often the way of things?
The dogs scared off the delivery guy who dumped them unceremoniously on the side patio and left. My son found the box and brought it in to where Lennon and I were setting up his train track. Lennon, who gets packages from his other grandma nearly every day just knew it had to be something for him. I tried to make him forget about them, but who can forget a newly wrapped box? So then, I pretended to try and open it and said with a sigh, that we would just have to wait. I could not get past the tape.
Lennon took off for the bathroom and said, "I need my men!" I bit. I went in and there were a bunch of his super heroes drying out in the bottom of the bath tub. I scooped them up, glad for the diversion, and was going to help him carry them, but he said, "You carry those. I just need Wolverine."
Wolverine has Edward Scissorhands type fingers and Lennon figured he was the best bet for cutting through all the tape. Of course Wolverine is a three inch plastic super figure, but after such a creative solution, we had to open the box. Daddy produced a knife and the blocks were kind of anti-climatic after that.
Isn't that often the way of things?
Monday, August 18, 2008
Bad Dreams
I wrote a thot last night, but it was too early to mail it and I was tired, so I went to bed. Then, as it has been so often the past three years, I had a bad dream. Waking up drenched and upset, I could not go back to sleep, so I got up intending to mail the earlier thot. After reading it, I realized it no longer seemed right.
Now, here I am. I cannot go back to sleep, or rather, I do not want to go back to sleep. It would be like revisiting a very bad experience. I am not sure why I dream these dreams. They are really not based on my own experience of similar things and they are all very unique in their own right and there does not appear to be a theme. Unless it is making me feel bad.
In this dream I was in the center of a very large university in a city full of lights. It was night and my acting class had to put on a skit. We gathered outside a large building with a steep, very wide set of steps leading up to a large colonnaded building, sort of like the Lincoln Memorial. Our theater Prof. was Linda McCoy, my high school P.E. teacher in real life! She told us we should each bring a prop and be ready to improvise. I went around the block looking for a prop, but I was so afraid I'd run into dogs that I could barely think. All I found was an old tree limb about five feet tall and about four inches in diameter.
She told us the general idea was that a man and woman had come here, looking for a place to stay and could not find one, so they were staying in this small shack. We were supposed to bring them something they could use. We started to set up on the space by the steps and I was talking to one of the male students, a tall gangly boy with blond hair, wearing a black cape. (Not, Harry Potterish, but more like Sherlock Holmes.) He was asking me what part I was going to do when a female student came storming over and snarled, "What...are you doing?" She was so nasty and mean spirited I just wanted to be away from her. She followed us as we walked away saying, "Why are you even here?"
I knew I was there because we were all in the class, but I knew she was angry because we were not as good as she thought she was. She had the main part, but I had a good one too. Before we could really discuss this, our teacher moved the class inside to the basement of the building. There was a cheer leading convention at the university and there was too much confusion outside. Now, as I stood back in the dark, watching the skit start to unfold I was afraid I would not come up with any appropriate lines, but decided I wouldn't worry about it. I would just let go and see what happened. It had always worked before. I always seemed to come up with the right words.
Just before it was my time to go on, the elevator opened and a group of cheerleaders wearing pink and gray pleated skirts and gray sweaters with pink letters came rushing out. The leader asked Mrs. McCoy if they could present their program to us. She asked them how old they were and where they were from and then said, no, they could not. I was really shocked at the way she responded and I was also embarrassed. They milled around over by the elevator, talking among themselves and making snotty remarks with sidelong glances at us, as if she would change her mind. I finally asked her why she refused to let them perform for us and she said it was because they were wearing gray and pink and the school's colors were red and gray. If they couldn't wear the right colors, they could not perform!
I heard a marching band and just as the elevator doors opened for the cheerleaders, a row of skinny little tuba players in full uniform came marching down the basement hallway in a straight line. They were dressed like the band in Music Man and marched right into the elevator without loosing a step, or breaking formation. The cheerleaders just stood there gaping, as if they had been insulted one more time and suddenly it was my turn to go on.
I dashed forward, toward the little pool of light where the skit was, hoping I would not make a fool of myself, more worried now because of the girl who thought I wasn't good enough -- and woke up.
I have never taken an acting class in my life, although I did perform with a local theater. I never had any of these experiences, but it still felt very real and made me feel very bad. And now, as tired as I am, I do not want to go back to bed.
Now, here I am. I cannot go back to sleep, or rather, I do not want to go back to sleep. It would be like revisiting a very bad experience. I am not sure why I dream these dreams. They are really not based on my own experience of similar things and they are all very unique in their own right and there does not appear to be a theme. Unless it is making me feel bad.
In this dream I was in the center of a very large university in a city full of lights. It was night and my acting class had to put on a skit. We gathered outside a large building with a steep, very wide set of steps leading up to a large colonnaded building, sort of like the Lincoln Memorial. Our theater Prof. was Linda McCoy, my high school P.E. teacher in real life! She told us we should each bring a prop and be ready to improvise. I went around the block looking for a prop, but I was so afraid I'd run into dogs that I could barely think. All I found was an old tree limb about five feet tall and about four inches in diameter.
She told us the general idea was that a man and woman had come here, looking for a place to stay and could not find one, so they were staying in this small shack. We were supposed to bring them something they could use. We started to set up on the space by the steps and I was talking to one of the male students, a tall gangly boy with blond hair, wearing a black cape. (Not, Harry Potterish, but more like Sherlock Holmes.) He was asking me what part I was going to do when a female student came storming over and snarled, "What...are you doing?" She was so nasty and mean spirited I just wanted to be away from her. She followed us as we walked away saying, "Why are you even here?"
I knew I was there because we were all in the class, but I knew she was angry because we were not as good as she thought she was. She had the main part, but I had a good one too. Before we could really discuss this, our teacher moved the class inside to the basement of the building. There was a cheer leading convention at the university and there was too much confusion outside. Now, as I stood back in the dark, watching the skit start to unfold I was afraid I would not come up with any appropriate lines, but decided I wouldn't worry about it. I would just let go and see what happened. It had always worked before. I always seemed to come up with the right words.
Just before it was my time to go on, the elevator opened and a group of cheerleaders wearing pink and gray pleated skirts and gray sweaters with pink letters came rushing out. The leader asked Mrs. McCoy if they could present their program to us. She asked them how old they were and where they were from and then said, no, they could not. I was really shocked at the way she responded and I was also embarrassed. They milled around over by the elevator, talking among themselves and making snotty remarks with sidelong glances at us, as if she would change her mind. I finally asked her why she refused to let them perform for us and she said it was because they were wearing gray and pink and the school's colors were red and gray. If they couldn't wear the right colors, they could not perform!
I heard a marching band and just as the elevator doors opened for the cheerleaders, a row of skinny little tuba players in full uniform came marching down the basement hallway in a straight line. They were dressed like the band in Music Man and marched right into the elevator without loosing a step, or breaking formation. The cheerleaders just stood there gaping, as if they had been insulted one more time and suddenly it was my turn to go on.
I dashed forward, toward the little pool of light where the skit was, hoping I would not make a fool of myself, more worried now because of the girl who thought I wasn't good enough -- and woke up.
I have never taken an acting class in my life, although I did perform with a local theater. I never had any of these experiences, but it still felt very real and made me feel very bad. And now, as tired as I am, I do not want to go back to bed.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Perception
Perception is important. My grandson, Lennon, has grown up with three dogs who probably have a combined weight of around 200 pounds. He is not the least bit put off by any of them, even though he can barely see over them when they stand up.
When they all come tearing past him in a large mass of legs, fur, barking and energy, he will turn to the wall, brace his hands and simply wait til they pass. Or sometimes, he will assert himself with gigantic arm motions and his biggest voice shouting, "Off!" He carefully climbs over them if they are blocking the door to his room, or in his way, but he perceives them as totally benign entities who just happen to share his space.
I, on the other hand, seemed to have been born with a natural and almost debilitating fear of any dog not my own, so I have worked hard to both get over this and not pass it on to my children or any others.
Chauncey is only about ten pounds of Shih-Tzu and while he can be excitable, is pretty easily controlled with a few simple words. Lennon learned early on to throw Chauncey's toys and shout, "Go Get It!" with enough energy to make Chauncey spring up from wherever he is and dash off to find whatever was thrown. Otherwise the two of them have a healthy respect for each other. Lennon doesn't take Chauncey's toys out of his mouth and Chauncey doesn't chew on Lennon's things.
So I was surprised when Lennon started to leave the music room and suddenly turned and said, "Make Chauncey go away!" Chauncey heard his name and came bounding over. Lennon immediately shrieked in terror and leaped into his father's lap. He adamantly refused to go anywhere near Chauncey the rest of the morning and we couldn't figure out why.
Then when Lennon and I were sitting on the backyard swing, he started to get off and stopped. Looking up at me, he asked, "Why is Chauncey mad at me?" I looked at Chauncey, who was sitting there in all his regal Shih-tzu glory and realized it did look like he was scowling! If I hadn't known better, I might have thought he was angry too, but it is just that his hair is finally growing out and his mustache droops down over his little smiling mouth now. A small explanation and our conflict was resolved.
I wonder how many other conflicts are also the product of simple misunderstandings?
When they all come tearing past him in a large mass of legs, fur, barking and energy, he will turn to the wall, brace his hands and simply wait til they pass. Or sometimes, he will assert himself with gigantic arm motions and his biggest voice shouting, "Off!" He carefully climbs over them if they are blocking the door to his room, or in his way, but he perceives them as totally benign entities who just happen to share his space.
I, on the other hand, seemed to have been born with a natural and almost debilitating fear of any dog not my own, so I have worked hard to both get over this and not pass it on to my children or any others.
Chauncey is only about ten pounds of Shih-Tzu and while he can be excitable, is pretty easily controlled with a few simple words. Lennon learned early on to throw Chauncey's toys and shout, "Go Get It!" with enough energy to make Chauncey spring up from wherever he is and dash off to find whatever was thrown. Otherwise the two of them have a healthy respect for each other. Lennon doesn't take Chauncey's toys out of his mouth and Chauncey doesn't chew on Lennon's things.
So I was surprised when Lennon started to leave the music room and suddenly turned and said, "Make Chauncey go away!" Chauncey heard his name and came bounding over. Lennon immediately shrieked in terror and leaped into his father's lap. He adamantly refused to go anywhere near Chauncey the rest of the morning and we couldn't figure out why.
Then when Lennon and I were sitting on the backyard swing, he started to get off and stopped. Looking up at me, he asked, "Why is Chauncey mad at me?" I looked at Chauncey, who was sitting there in all his regal Shih-tzu glory and realized it did look like he was scowling! If I hadn't known better, I might have thought he was angry too, but it is just that his hair is finally growing out and his mustache droops down over his little smiling mouth now. A small explanation and our conflict was resolved.
I wonder how many other conflicts are also the product of simple misunderstandings?
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Sun Or Candle?
The notion of marriage because of love is a relatively new one. Marriage was a contract, or necessary binding of two people for a very long time. Sometimes I think love was much more valuable back then. If it happened, it grew out of respect for each other. It was not considered a necessary, or vital part of being married.
Today it is all mixed up in fleeting wants and desires that are more me centered than common sense. This makes marriage tenuous at best, like building a marshmallow castle. Pleasing to look at, but it might melt in a good rain.
Committing to the best well being I can provide for any other creature requires a great deal of maturity. It is the story of the Three Little Pigs, Hansel And Gretal, The Prodigal Son, even The Green Knight.
It is laziness and sloth, greed and jealousy, wanting and lusting, being overcome by right action. It is believing that God wants man to love in a God-like way, not narcissistic ally, or Oedipally, or any other way that is less than whole.
It is the simple building of human relationship like any other well built structure. A good foundation and a system of constant repairs, united by a desire to promote and prolong the institution for the good of all.
This kind of constant devotion is actually much more romantic than romance. It is the difference between the sun and a candle.
Today it is all mixed up in fleeting wants and desires that are more me centered than common sense. This makes marriage tenuous at best, like building a marshmallow castle. Pleasing to look at, but it might melt in a good rain.
Committing to the best well being I can provide for any other creature requires a great deal of maturity. It is the story of the Three Little Pigs, Hansel And Gretal, The Prodigal Son, even The Green Knight.
It is laziness and sloth, greed and jealousy, wanting and lusting, being overcome by right action. It is believing that God wants man to love in a God-like way, not narcissistic ally, or Oedipally, or any other way that is less than whole.
It is the simple building of human relationship like any other well built structure. A good foundation and a system of constant repairs, united by a desire to promote and prolong the institution for the good of all.
This kind of constant devotion is actually much more romantic than romance. It is the difference between the sun and a candle.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Logical Living
I am enjoying the time I spend with my son and grandson and daughter-in-law. We are a house full of strong people. Each of us has some things we enjoy doing and other things we can't tolerate.
It doesn't really matter how these things came to be. They simply are. Creative living is really very logical living. It does not mean everything seems logical to each one of us. It means that it is only logical that we make adjustments where necessary in order to have a compassionate, harmonious, and clear relationship.
It means that we must actively choose to work at getting along and be intelligent enough to see several ways of doing it. It means we will all make mistakes and we will all have to make concessions, but the end result is too precious not to reach for.
It doesn't really matter how these things came to be. They simply are. Creative living is really very logical living. It does not mean everything seems logical to each one of us. It means that it is only logical that we make adjustments where necessary in order to have a compassionate, harmonious, and clear relationship.
It means that we must actively choose to work at getting along and be intelligent enough to see several ways of doing it. It means we will all make mistakes and we will all have to make concessions, but the end result is too precious not to reach for.
Nuances
Old issues come up again and again. It is how I know they are not yet dealt with. The idea of any port in a storm may work for sailors, but it is not how I want to spend my life. I am not a ship and if I were, the idea that I would live in a continual storm is appalling to me.
If any woman will do, I am not the woman you want.
Any human being will do when I need companionship, or someone to eat dinner with, but I need one single individual if we are to go for the long haul together. Hitching myself to anything less, is too much like work and not enough of a soul connection for me. I will eventually resent you, if I am able to worship the God in you and you cannot find God in me. Likewise, if all women seem basically the same to you, we are incompatible.
The threads of steel that bind true soul mates together are found in the barest of nuances. Being able to see these almost imperceptible blessings is the holy seal of recognition I am searching for.
If any woman will do, I am not the woman you want.
Any human being will do when I need companionship, or someone to eat dinner with, but I need one single individual if we are to go for the long haul together. Hitching myself to anything less, is too much like work and not enough of a soul connection for me. I will eventually resent you, if I am able to worship the God in you and you cannot find God in me. Likewise, if all women seem basically the same to you, we are incompatible.
The threads of steel that bind true soul mates together are found in the barest of nuances. Being able to see these almost imperceptible blessings is the holy seal of recognition I am searching for.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Sleepless On Star Ridge
I never more will sleep I think.
I toss and turn and wink and blink,
But should I nod just one small bit
My eyes pop open with a flick.
I watched the moon rise late last night
And saw the stars come twinkling bright.
I watched the sun come back again
With sleepy eyes and droopy chin.
If I don't sleep before the dawn
I'll turn into just one big yawn.
And all my friends will point and say
You're up all night and sleep all day.
I toss and turn and wink and blink,
But should I nod just one small bit
My eyes pop open with a flick.
I watched the moon rise late last night
And saw the stars come twinkling bright.
I watched the sun come back again
With sleepy eyes and droopy chin.
If I don't sleep before the dawn
I'll turn into just one big yawn.
And all my friends will point and say
You're up all night and sleep all day.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
delicate perfection
I close my eyes and reach for the silence.
It is here that I find myself in all my glory, past ego, past definition, past everything except I am.
Going just a bit further I lose myself into the glory of everything and hover here, a butterfly who has just tasted the delicate nectar of perfection.
It is here that I find myself in all my glory, past ego, past definition, past everything except I am.
Going just a bit further I lose myself into the glory of everything and hover here, a butterfly who has just tasted the delicate nectar of perfection.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Gales Of Laughter
The great thing about being a gramma is being able to play with someone my own age again! Lennon and I have found something called Geomags. It is a bunch of sticks and balls that are highly magnetized and can do the most marvelous things! If he were a child who put things in his mouth, we couldn't do this, but he doesn't and we are together anyway, so he and Daddy and I have a ball.
I also discovered that I could use a bunch of my own magnetic toys (like the knife holder, the old office magnets, my mail separator) and make tracks to roll balls down, on the front of my washer. It is awesome to watch the way the balls roll on different surfaces and the way they bounce into some things and off others! We can move them around and try different ways and no matter what we do, gales of laughter follow it all.
I also discovered that I could use a bunch of my own magnetic toys (like the knife holder, the old office magnets, my mail separator) and make tracks to roll balls down, on the front of my washer. It is awesome to watch the way the balls roll on different surfaces and the way they bounce into some things and off others! We can move them around and try different ways and no matter what we do, gales of laughter follow it all.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Your Own Power
It makes me feel better when you aren't screaming at me, but I am not sure this is the right criteria for the decisions we make.
If you have a broken leg and both arms in casts, why in the world would I pay for you to ride the pony one more time?
Wanting something is a powerful incentive for achievement, but it should be backed up by your own power, not mine. Otherwise you might not be able to keep it.
If you have a broken leg and both arms in casts, why in the world would I pay for you to ride the pony one more time?
Wanting something is a powerful incentive for achievement, but it should be backed up by your own power, not mine. Otherwise you might not be able to keep it.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Emptiness
Darkness within darkness.
The Gateway to all understanding.
Tao te Ching
I am not thinking. I am not meditating. I am only what I am, an open space in the early morning sunshine.
Behind me lies infinity. Before me lies all eternity.
The light is blinding, yet a shadow falls across my space.
Darkness within the blinding light, flitting across my consciousness, and within the darkness I see movement.
The shadow of a butterfly visits the shadow of a flower. No color, no delineations except the dark shapes before me and in these shapes I see every butterfly that ever lit upon the lips of the chalice that feeds it, every lip that ever sipped from the sacred sustenance before it, every empty place ever filled with the holy being of the holiest.
The Gateway to all understanding.
Tao te Ching
I am not thinking. I am not meditating. I am only what I am, an open space in the early morning sunshine.
Behind me lies infinity. Before me lies all eternity.
The light is blinding, yet a shadow falls across my space.
Darkness within the blinding light, flitting across my consciousness, and within the darkness I see movement.
The shadow of a butterfly visits the shadow of a flower. No color, no delineations except the dark shapes before me and in these shapes I see every butterfly that ever lit upon the lips of the chalice that feeds it, every lip that ever sipped from the sacred sustenance before it, every empty place ever filled with the holy being of the holiest.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
God Moments
Momentous moments are those that impact me profoundly. Not necessarily good feeling, but often awe inspiring, they are the ones that have honed the better parts of me, buffed up the already shiny spots and begun the polishing of those not so shiny spots. Soul shattering and Soul emending moments defining the person who I am.
I call them God moments, those times I have come face to face with my Creator. In folk lore and fairy tales it would be the tale of the stranger at the door. Experiences where I sat across the table from my God and we shared a cup of coffee, or a meal, or even something larger while I learned the lesson of that moment.
Momentous because they give me a personal experience, a feeling of closeness so intimate that I can lay my head against his shoulder or lay all my burdens at his feet and know that I am perfectly okay, or better, that I am exactly who I am supposed to be and even after these moments pass, the happening of them stays here.
I know what it is to stir the scrambled eggs in His name, or to wash dirty laundry with a love so great it is unimaginable. I know the experience of love so infinite it cannot be expressed in any way except life.
I call them God moments, those times I have come face to face with my Creator. In folk lore and fairy tales it would be the tale of the stranger at the door. Experiences where I sat across the table from my God and we shared a cup of coffee, or a meal, or even something larger while I learned the lesson of that moment.
Momentous because they give me a personal experience, a feeling of closeness so intimate that I can lay my head against his shoulder or lay all my burdens at his feet and know that I am perfectly okay, or better, that I am exactly who I am supposed to be and even after these moments pass, the happening of them stays here.
I know what it is to stir the scrambled eggs in His name, or to wash dirty laundry with a love so great it is unimaginable. I know the experience of love so infinite it cannot be expressed in any way except life.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Using My Head
I am learning to use my head...in some most unusual ways.
I brought my brother's swing frame and my sister's swing with me, intending to unite the two and have a back yard swing of my own. Both of them lost their other half in storms this past year. I was hoping to just stick them on the truck, but it turned out the frame had to be taken apart in order to transport it. Consequently, it has been lying on the grass in a corner of my yard since June. Bobby said he would help me put it together, but we weren' t sure there was room since he had already bought an umbrella table for the backyard before I came, but while the table was still at the garden party, I decided to set up the swing.
I thought I had it all figured out. I would spray for spiders, because they outnumber me by at least twenty to one in the house at any given point. Chauncey likes to chase them into the kitchen while I am reading at night. They crawl out onto the bathroom floor while I shower, up the walls and down the walls of my bedroom when I turn the lights off, parade along the woodwork and have generally tried to drive me out. I finally bought some spray and tried to use it sparingly in the worst places. I was very careful, but by the time I joined Chauncey in the back yard I couldn't stop sneezing. I began to wonder if anyone ever died sneezing. I even went back and reread the can to see if there were any specific effects listed from inhaling the bug spray, but there was nothing about sneezing on the can.
Once I quit sneezing, I dragged the frame poles over where I could see them and dumped all the hardware onto a small table. I have never seen so many screws, bolts, washers, etc. I kept trying to reason out what went where and finally just separated everything into piles that were alike then counted them. There were four place that required something long in the swing set top and I had four long bolts. Voila, I figured they must go there. I used the rest to hook the decorative pieces on. Of course all the bolts were bent and they each had to go through six holes, two per pole tube. It was not easy! I used a chair, an upside down trash can, both knees and my head to keep things in the right place so I could screw them together and it worked!
In three hours I hooked six poles together, with frequent breaks for prayer, meditation and breathing, then I hung the swing. After which, I peeled my clothes off and took a shower without any spiders for company. This morning Bobby and Lennon came down to help me hang my chandelier. Three novices trying to follow a faulty picture with no written instructions. It took a while and once more my head came into good use. When I could no longer hold the chandelier up while Bobby wire and hooked, I balanced it on my head. I thought if women can carry water jugs, I should be able to hold a light, but I'll bet those water jugs don't have metal screws sticking out the bottom!
In the end the chandelier looks fantastic, it is a tiny highland palladium with five candle lights and it just what I needed for more light with a touch of style.
I brought my brother's swing frame and my sister's swing with me, intending to unite the two and have a back yard swing of my own. Both of them lost their other half in storms this past year. I was hoping to just stick them on the truck, but it turned out the frame had to be taken apart in order to transport it. Consequently, it has been lying on the grass in a corner of my yard since June. Bobby said he would help me put it together, but we weren' t sure there was room since he had already bought an umbrella table for the backyard before I came, but while the table was still at the garden party, I decided to set up the swing.
I thought I had it all figured out. I would spray for spiders, because they outnumber me by at least twenty to one in the house at any given point. Chauncey likes to chase them into the kitchen while I am reading at night. They crawl out onto the bathroom floor while I shower, up the walls and down the walls of my bedroom when I turn the lights off, parade along the woodwork and have generally tried to drive me out. I finally bought some spray and tried to use it sparingly in the worst places. I was very careful, but by the time I joined Chauncey in the back yard I couldn't stop sneezing. I began to wonder if anyone ever died sneezing. I even went back and reread the can to see if there were any specific effects listed from inhaling the bug spray, but there was nothing about sneezing on the can.
Once I quit sneezing, I dragged the frame poles over where I could see them and dumped all the hardware onto a small table. I have never seen so many screws, bolts, washers, etc. I kept trying to reason out what went where and finally just separated everything into piles that were alike then counted them. There were four place that required something long in the swing set top and I had four long bolts. Voila, I figured they must go there. I used the rest to hook the decorative pieces on. Of course all the bolts were bent and they each had to go through six holes, two per pole tube. It was not easy! I used a chair, an upside down trash can, both knees and my head to keep things in the right place so I could screw them together and it worked!
In three hours I hooked six poles together, with frequent breaks for prayer, meditation and breathing, then I hung the swing. After which, I peeled my clothes off and took a shower without any spiders for company. This morning Bobby and Lennon came down to help me hang my chandelier. Three novices trying to follow a faulty picture with no written instructions. It took a while and once more my head came into good use. When I could no longer hold the chandelier up while Bobby wire and hooked, I balanced it on my head. I thought if women can carry water jugs, I should be able to hold a light, but I'll bet those water jugs don't have metal screws sticking out the bottom!
In the end the chandelier looks fantastic, it is a tiny highland palladium with five candle lights and it just what I needed for more light with a touch of style.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Higher Powers
Watching my grandson's parents raise him is fascinating. Both of them are very creative, expressive people with a fine sense of what is right and not so right. Not averse to sitting on the floor behind him leaning into the curves and bouncing over the bumps of his pretend car as he drives, they still have a time out place and way of dealing with an ebullient two year old that is very effective.
It's hard sometimes. His hero is Superman and he can be coerced into most things by the simple words, Superman would do it, so when he dashed around the car the other day it was tough. I could hear the calm panic in my son's voice telling him, "Lennon, you may NOT do that!" A debate ensued where Lennon insisted that Superman would not let him get hurt.
His side was well put and if Superman was indeed real, he might have won. His father's side was much more difficult. The important thing is that Lennon listen and behave safely, but then there is the matter of this imaginary guy who is his hero. All day, every day, and whenever the world is not right, Superman is there for this little two year old and Daddy managed to preserve this by saying that we all have to help Superman because he is very busy.
I could see the dawning of something in Lennon's face. He was very quiet all the way home. Fortunately two year olds tend to let things go fairly quickly, but the age of reason approaches and disillusionments will abound if he doesn't make the transition into greater and higher powers.
It's hard sometimes. His hero is Superman and he can be coerced into most things by the simple words, Superman would do it, so when he dashed around the car the other day it was tough. I could hear the calm panic in my son's voice telling him, "Lennon, you may NOT do that!" A debate ensued where Lennon insisted that Superman would not let him get hurt.
His side was well put and if Superman was indeed real, he might have won. His father's side was much more difficult. The important thing is that Lennon listen and behave safely, but then there is the matter of this imaginary guy who is his hero. All day, every day, and whenever the world is not right, Superman is there for this little two year old and Daddy managed to preserve this by saying that we all have to help Superman because he is very busy.
I could see the dawning of something in Lennon's face. He was very quiet all the way home. Fortunately two year olds tend to let things go fairly quickly, but the age of reason approaches and disillusionments will abound if he doesn't make the transition into greater and higher powers.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Good Causes
Building a new life is a rather complicated affair. People trying to help from a distance sometimes just make it harder. What was may not be anymore, but when some people speak, others listen as if it is gospel.
I come from a family of passive aggressive people and I admit that I was once one of the best, but I have worked very hard to change that and I believe I have changed. I jokingly say that I am no longer passive aggressive. Now I am openly aggressive. It is a joke, but it is really only an exaggeration of the truth. If I have a problem, I try to find a way to deal with it head on. I prefer that to trying to second guess people.
I am also aware, though, that people say a lot of things they don't really mean when they are angry and frustrated, so I take the time to separate actions and words from events and emotionally fraught experiences. This is called wisdom.
The more people, the more complicated it becomes, but as long as we all keep working at it with open minds and hearts, it will work.
I just spent a lovely evening at a garden party with my son and his family. It was an elegant affair with extraordinary food and I left feeling so happy and content. This is the kind of affair there should be more of. Good people gathered for a good cause with good conversation.
I come from a family of passive aggressive people and I admit that I was once one of the best, but I have worked very hard to change that and I believe I have changed. I jokingly say that I am no longer passive aggressive. Now I am openly aggressive. It is a joke, but it is really only an exaggeration of the truth. If I have a problem, I try to find a way to deal with it head on. I prefer that to trying to second guess people.
I am also aware, though, that people say a lot of things they don't really mean when they are angry and frustrated, so I take the time to separate actions and words from events and emotionally fraught experiences. This is called wisdom.
The more people, the more complicated it becomes, but as long as we all keep working at it with open minds and hearts, it will work.
I just spent a lovely evening at a garden party with my son and his family. It was an elegant affair with extraordinary food and I left feeling so happy and content. This is the kind of affair there should be more of. Good people gathered for a good cause with good conversation.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Tis The Season
For everything there is a season and this is evidently the summer, at least if you are in my circle of friends, to move. I moved to the western highlands of North Carolina in June. My sister bought a house in the heartland of Illinois. I have friends in St.Louis house hunting and another friend who will move to the deep south this coming Wednesday.
It is also a time when God seems to be answering prayers right and left. I had a small army of people helping with my move and I couldn't have done it half so easily had it not been for them. My sister found the perfect house in the perfect location and called our aunt, who is in real estate, for an opinion. Not only did my aunt have an opinion, she sent one of her sons to check out the house and then she paid the down payment and closing costs for her.
Now my friend Jessica is moving back to where she grew up. Mailing the little bit she absolutely needs, she is planning to start fresh when she arrives. She got so wrapped up in giving things away that she found herself without even a lamp to see with and had to borrow one back for a few days! Jessica's friends surprised her with a going away party and awed her with the generosity of their gifts. Now she has enough money to make this move much more comfortably than she ever dreamed of. Not only that, but one of the men took the things she is mailing ahead to the post office and paid the postage for her!
Keep the faith, God is good. Sometimes it is hard to see, or even harder to understand, but sometimes it is just as clear as a fresh washed window on a sunny day.
It is also a time when God seems to be answering prayers right and left. I had a small army of people helping with my move and I couldn't have done it half so easily had it not been for them. My sister found the perfect house in the perfect location and called our aunt, who is in real estate, for an opinion. Not only did my aunt have an opinion, she sent one of her sons to check out the house and then she paid the down payment and closing costs for her.
Now my friend Jessica is moving back to where she grew up. Mailing the little bit she absolutely needs, she is planning to start fresh when she arrives. She got so wrapped up in giving things away that she found herself without even a lamp to see with and had to borrow one back for a few days! Jessica's friends surprised her with a going away party and awed her with the generosity of their gifts. Now she has enough money to make this move much more comfortably than she ever dreamed of. Not only that, but one of the men took the things she is mailing ahead to the post office and paid the postage for her!
Keep the faith, God is good. Sometimes it is hard to see, or even harder to understand, but sometimes it is just as clear as a fresh washed window on a sunny day.
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