Time passing is a big (HUGE! actually) issue for me. It's hard to explain to people without sounding a little crazy. I suppose it is kind of crazy - born of a crazy set of circumstances. But it's a topic too big for my hangover to take on right now so it'll be a subject matter for a future post. Right now, I will just list a few of my goals for 2009. I hope to reach 2010 a better person than the one that rang in 2009. She ain't bad but...there's always - ALWAYS - room for improvement....
Goals For the Year 2009
Swear less. (dammit)
Become gainfully employed and ease my family's money woes.
Let go, once and for all, of a lost friendship that still hurts my heart (it's hard to accept that this person doesn't give one wit about me anymore and I need to find a way to move on for good).
Spend more time with my growing daughter to stay connected for the turbulent years to come.
Take a class - yoga? pilates? creative writing? swing dance? I dunno yet...
Meet a transvestite.
Hopefully travel more.
Plan my next adventure.
Use fewer exclamation points - excitement is good but I think I'll try to actually have more of it in life than just in my writing about life. (Thus the desire to meet a transvestite - wouldn't that be a hoot?)
Take better care of my house.
Have a grown-up party.
Take on a new fashion that I'm normally too shy to attempt.
Find grace.
Give grace.
Create more.
Pray more.
Write more.
Laugh more.
Love more...always try to love more....
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
So Very Scary....(I'm really not that slutty)
The following is an actual e-mail conversation I recently had with my friend T. It all started when she sent me a photo she found on Facebook. (which I won't show here but it was of a big fat dude with graying hair) Note: The names of some people have been changed to protect their privacy. (And also to protect my ass!)
T: Do you know who this is?
Hint: you made out with him years ago. ( I know that does not narrow things down much!!!)
R: What the...?! I have no idea! I made out with him? Tell me! Tell me!
T: HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA. Facebook...
A hint : he had dark hair and glasses then!
R: That can't be John Barrett! Did he wear glasses? Who else had glasses? It's so scary to me that I can't pinpoint it. Is he from N. High School? I'm such a slut...
T: I'm really torturing you...aren't I? Yes! N. High School. Not when we were there though.....
R: David Russell? He didn't wear glasses did he? I will be stunned if that's who it is! I can't think of who else I made out with that was older (or younger).
T: Brother of someone special.....
R: Jennie's brother? No freaking way!
T: Nope... someone who was a bit heavy then....This is fun...I never knew you made out with Jennie's brother - you slut!
R: A bit heavy! Hmmm...I didn't really go for the pudgy fellas. You sure it was ME that made out with him? I can't think of who it is at all.
PS - Yeah, me and Jennie's brother. I don't know what it is with me my friend's brothers. I promise that I never got it on with Scott or Bobby. {T's brothers}
T: Thank goodness...well we know it wouldn't be Bobby.....we annoyed the hell out of him! Anyway,the someone special was someone special to ME in high school. Now you will get it!!!!
R: I thought about that. Mike Mitchell {T's ex-boyfriend} didn't have a brother did he? You didn't really have any other special someones back then did you? Who was that guy from that local college you dated?
T: It must be early Alzheimer's "Mike Mitchell didn't have a brother did he?" An older brother, who delivered the mail perhaps.....I think you are trying to forget!!!!
Here's my final hint: I guess Donna was right about you...
R: HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I just tried to call you....The only thing that finally tipped me off was the mention of Donna. I remember how she was kinda big, had a lot of blondish hair and hated me. I didn't remember that Mike Mitchell had a brother, I don't remember the dude's name (even now), I don't remember him being a mailman, I don't remember one detail of how it all happened. Do YOU? When did we make-out? Where? Was he any good? Was it more than once? Ewwwww!!!
I am such a hussy...
T: Do you know who this is?
Hint: you made out with him years ago. ( I know that does not narrow things down much!!!)
R: What the...?! I have no idea! I made out with him? Tell me! Tell me!
T: HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA. Facebook...
A hint : he had dark hair and glasses then!
R: That can't be John Barrett! Did he wear glasses? Who else had glasses? It's so scary to me that I can't pinpoint it. Is he from N. High School? I'm such a slut...
T: I'm really torturing you...aren't I? Yes! N. High School. Not when we were there though.....
R: David Russell? He didn't wear glasses did he? I will be stunned if that's who it is! I can't think of who else I made out with that was older (or younger).
T: Brother of someone special.....
R: Jennie's brother? No freaking way!
T: Nope... someone who was a bit heavy then....This is fun...I never knew you made out with Jennie's brother - you slut!
R: A bit heavy! Hmmm...I didn't really go for the pudgy fellas. You sure it was ME that made out with him? I can't think of who it is at all.
PS - Yeah, me and Jennie's brother. I don't know what it is with me my friend's brothers. I promise that I never got it on with Scott or Bobby. {T's brothers}
T: Thank goodness...well we know it wouldn't be Bobby.....we annoyed the hell out of him! Anyway,the someone special was someone special to ME in high school. Now you will get it!!!!
R: I thought about that. Mike Mitchell {T's ex-boyfriend} didn't have a brother did he? You didn't really have any other special someones back then did you? Who was that guy from that local college you dated?
T: It must be early Alzheimer's "Mike Mitchell didn't have a brother did he?" An older brother, who delivered the mail perhaps.....I think you are trying to forget!!!!
Here's my final hint: I guess Donna was right about you...
R: HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I just tried to call you....The only thing that finally tipped me off was the mention of Donna. I remember how she was kinda big, had a lot of blondish hair and hated me. I didn't remember that Mike Mitchell had a brother, I don't remember the dude's name (even now), I don't remember him being a mailman, I don't remember one detail of how it all happened. Do YOU? When did we make-out? Where? Was he any good? Was it more than once? Ewwwww!!!
I am such a hussy...
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
So Much Going On Lately
It's been a crazy couple of weeks. Good things and bad. It all started when Emma asked if she could have a Christmas party. "Sure!" I said. Then she asked if we could have it the evening of the last day of school before the holiday break. "Sure!" I said. Then she asked if she could invite 11 girls. "Sure!" I said. But as the time got closer and closer and things kept piling up on my schedule, all I could think was, "FOOL!"
His funeral was the day after the party in North Carolina six hours away so we got up at 4:30 that morning and were able to spend the day with Lynne and her family. It was great to see them even if the circumstances were so tough. His name was George and he was a dear friend. He was one of my college professors and was good to my family in our times of need over the years. I will miss you George. And I'm so sorry Lynne.
Last week was also finals week for Emma. This year has been tough academically but Emma pulled it off. Two high school level classes and she got straight A's across the board again. What a kid!
My brother and sister flew in yesterday and are staying here. Our family has dwindled in numbers over the years so it's not the same raucous affair of the past but I am so very thankful that they are here on this earth still and part of our holiday. I love them dearly.
It is now Christmas Eve and I'm thinking about all of these things and feeling so many different emotions. It's been quite a year. I feel sad for lost family. Sad for lost friendships. Worried about our personal financial situation and the whole country's situation for that matter. Proud of my daughter. Proud of myself. Love for my family. Love for those that have seen the best in me even when I couldn't see it in myself. Happy that I had an adventure of my own this year and hoping to have another one someday. Curious about the coming year and hoping that it's better for everyone. I think 2008 has worn us all plum out, as they say here in the south.
Merry Christmas and God bless!
The party went off without a hitch though and was so much fun! I had no idea middle school girls were so LOUD. The screaming. Oh the high pitched screaming that went on. What a hoot. They decorated cookies, danced, listened to music, played Wii and Twister, and then did the ornament game. It was kinda scary at one point though because as I stood at the bottom of the stairs and listened to them being nuts up in Emma's room I thought, I can totally picture this same group of girls playing quarters in a few years. Hoo-boy it should be interesting...
Sadly, while all of that party planning was going on, I got a call from my friend, Lynne. Her father died rather suddenly. He had pancreatic cancer and had a successful surgery but succumbed to a secondary infection he got in the hospital. It seems so cruel to me...to survive that tough procedure only lose his life to something secondary feels so tragic.His funeral was the day after the party in North Carolina six hours away so we got up at 4:30 that morning and were able to spend the day with Lynne and her family. It was great to see them even if the circumstances were so tough. His name was George and he was a dear friend. He was one of my college professors and was good to my family in our times of need over the years. I will miss you George. And I'm so sorry Lynne.
Last week was also finals week for Emma. This year has been tough academically but Emma pulled it off. Two high school level classes and she got straight A's across the board again. What a kid!
My brother and sister flew in yesterday and are staying here. Our family has dwindled in numbers over the years so it's not the same raucous affair of the past but I am so very thankful that they are here on this earth still and part of our holiday. I love them dearly.
It is now Christmas Eve and I'm thinking about all of these things and feeling so many different emotions. It's been quite a year. I feel sad for lost family. Sad for lost friendships. Worried about our personal financial situation and the whole country's situation for that matter. Proud of my daughter. Proud of myself. Love for my family. Love for those that have seen the best in me even when I couldn't see it in myself. Happy that I had an adventure of my own this year and hoping to have another one someday. Curious about the coming year and hoping that it's better for everyone. I think 2008 has worn us all plum out, as they say here in the south.
Merry Christmas and God bless!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Yo.u K'now, It's Ti;me.,.'.
...to clean your laptop computer screen when you're constantly thinking that you've mistakenly put periods, commas, semi-colons and apostrophes inappropriately mid-word and mid-sentence in your writing.
Monday, December 8, 2008
What If I Just Let Myself Fall?
A strange thing is happening to me lately. I feel it coming back. Threatening. The dark cloud always ready to consume me. The living, breathing beast that is depression.
I feel like it's always an undercurrent of my life every single day. Something that I have to battle and resist and make conscious choices about daily. Every day when I wake up I am a dichotomy of thoughts - knowing how unbelievably fortunate I am to have another day to wake up to, but also having to make the deliberate choice to get out of bed and live another day. To do. To be.
To mother. Thank God that I have to mother.
I've gotten so used to this fight against depression - and prevailing over it - that I was surprised yesterday when I had the thought for the very first time ever, What if I just gave in to it? What if I just stopped fighting it and let myself fall into that black hole again?
The idea of it both scared me and liberated me. That year of deep depression scares the hell out of me almost more than anything else. But it would also be a relief to stop the exhausting battle. To just let myself feel it all. Wallow in it. Roll around in it. Bathe in it.
But what a bore. My story and all of my reasons why I'm depressed are so boring. Real and valid to me, yes, but my pain is no worse in degree to almost anybody else's pain. We all have shit and mine is not special or more important. To let it take over me again seems so selfish and self-indulgent.
What to do...? What to do...? I think for today I will fight it again. Not let myself succumb to it. I will prevail again. The fight is worth it. People are counting on me and I need to win this one.
Tomorrow? I'll just make that decision then.
I feel like it's always an undercurrent of my life every single day. Something that I have to battle and resist and make conscious choices about daily. Every day when I wake up I am a dichotomy of thoughts - knowing how unbelievably fortunate I am to have another day to wake up to, but also having to make the deliberate choice to get out of bed and live another day. To do. To be.
To mother. Thank God that I have to mother.
I've gotten so used to this fight against depression - and prevailing over it - that I was surprised yesterday when I had the thought for the very first time ever, What if I just gave in to it? What if I just stopped fighting it and let myself fall into that black hole again?
The idea of it both scared me and liberated me. That year of deep depression scares the hell out of me almost more than anything else. But it would also be a relief to stop the exhausting battle. To just let myself feel it all. Wallow in it. Roll around in it. Bathe in it.
But what a bore. My story and all of my reasons why I'm depressed are so boring. Real and valid to me, yes, but my pain is no worse in degree to almost anybody else's pain. We all have shit and mine is not special or more important. To let it take over me again seems so selfish and self-indulgent.
What to do...? What to do...? I think for today I will fight it again. Not let myself succumb to it. I will prevail again. The fight is worth it. People are counting on me and I need to win this one.
Tomorrow? I'll just make that decision then.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Just Call Me Scrooge
I'm a nice person. I like Christmas. The gift-giving. The food. The parties. I love all of the pretty decorations and lights. I really do.
But almost nothing pisses me off more than decorating my own house. Every year I absolutely dread it. And every year I try to talk myself out of being pissed off about it. And every year I end up furious and in desperate need of alcohol.
I don't know what it is. It's so irrational. With every faux-pine garland I hang and every light I plug in, my grumbling gets louder (and more foul-mouthed) and my facial expressions gets scarier. Everyone in the house starts giving me wide berth whenever they pass by me and they try desperately to lay low.
Maybe it's because it takes two solid days to get it done. Maybe it's because I know I just have to turn around and take it all down again in three or four weeks. Maybe it's because I don't like to do anything halfway and I don't have the money, talent or time to do it the way I really want to do it. Maybe it's because Christmas stresses me out. Maybe it's just because I'm being bitchy.
It's all rather discouraging whatever it is.
But! It's done! I spent the last two days doing it - ALL day both days - and now it's done. And it does look pretty. I'm glad I did it. But I'm more glad it's done.
At least until the mother-%#*&$ first week of January anyway.
But almost nothing pisses me off more than decorating my own house. Every year I absolutely dread it. And every year I try to talk myself out of being pissed off about it. And every year I end up furious and in desperate need of alcohol.
I don't know what it is. It's so irrational. With every faux-pine garland I hang and every light I plug in, my grumbling gets louder (and more foul-mouthed) and my facial expressions gets scarier. Everyone in the house starts giving me wide berth whenever they pass by me and they try desperately to lay low.
Maybe it's because it takes two solid days to get it done. Maybe it's because I know I just have to turn around and take it all down again in three or four weeks. Maybe it's because I don't like to do anything halfway and I don't have the money, talent or time to do it the way I really want to do it. Maybe it's because Christmas stresses me out. Maybe it's just because I'm being bitchy.
It's all rather discouraging whatever it is.
But! It's done! I spent the last two days doing it - ALL day both days - and now it's done. And it does look pretty. I'm glad I did it. But I'm more glad it's done.
At least until the mother-%#*&$ first week of January anyway.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Psst! Her Pies Are Here!
Last week, we had a Thanksgiving pie feast for Emma's class. I was in charge of it and happy to do it. The older the kids get the fewer opportunities there are to participate in the their school lives and I miss it. It's all part of the natural letting go process and it's healthy and normal, blah blah blah, but it also kinda sucks. So I organized with gusto and also happily made two pies to contribute. A mud cream pie and a pumpkin streusel pie.
The big day arrived and as I was standing at one of the two tables full of pies getting ready to serve the kids, Emma's math teacher sidles up to me and whispers in my ear, "Which ones are yours? We're going to steal them." I was so stunned but thought it was funny so I burst out laughing. How flattering! Of course, I thought he was kidding so when he just stared at me with a completely deadpan expression while I was laughing I was taken aback. I quickly realized that he was serious.
Well, when your daughter's math teacher asks for your pie, you give him the pie. I pointed him in the direction of the mud cream that was sitting on the other table and sure enough, he wanders over to it and while the other moms are busy serving the kids he snags it. I just stood there and shook my head laughing. What could I do?
About ten minutes later Emma's science teacher walks up to me and whispers, "Which ones did you make?" I looked at him with my eyes narrowed becoming very suspicious. He laughed and said, "Okay, I might as well tell you - I want to steal one to serve my family on Thanksgiving." What the...?! But again, what could I do? I told him that he better go get it immediately because the other one I made had already been taken. He scurried off and promptly took the pumpkin streusel and hid it in his classroom.
All reports later were that the pies were a big hit with those that consumed them, which is frankly a huge relief. All of that hoopla and then what if they sucked? So much pressure my baking reputation has created....
Emma better get an A in mather and science.
The big day arrived and as I was standing at one of the two tables full of pies getting ready to serve the kids, Emma's math teacher sidles up to me and whispers in my ear, "Which ones are yours? We're going to steal them." I was so stunned but thought it was funny so I burst out laughing. How flattering! Of course, I thought he was kidding so when he just stared at me with a completely deadpan expression while I was laughing I was taken aback. I quickly realized that he was serious.
Well, when your daughter's math teacher asks for your pie, you give him the pie. I pointed him in the direction of the mud cream that was sitting on the other table and sure enough, he wanders over to it and while the other moms are busy serving the kids he snags it. I just stood there and shook my head laughing. What could I do?
About ten minutes later Emma's science teacher walks up to me and whispers, "Which ones did you make?" I looked at him with my eyes narrowed becoming very suspicious. He laughed and said, "Okay, I might as well tell you - I want to steal one to serve my family on Thanksgiving." What the...?! But again, what could I do? I told him that he better go get it immediately because the other one I made had already been taken. He scurried off and promptly took the pumpkin streusel and hid it in his classroom.
All reports later were that the pies were a big hit with those that consumed them, which is frankly a huge relief. All of that hoopla and then what if they sucked? So much pressure my baking reputation has created....
Emma better get an A in mather and science.
Monday, November 24, 2008
A Better Day
Okay, so Saturday was kind of a bad day. Someone really pissed me off. But Sunday was better. And I hold out high hopes that today, Monday, will be even better still - and the week ahead too for that matter. I have much to be thankful for. A customer has a brand new condo on the beach in the Florida panhandle and they have given it to us for free (FREE!) for the long holiday weekend. 2008 will always be known to me as The Year of Florida Beach Condos and the luxury of it is not lost on me. The next couple of days will be quite hectic but by Wednesday morning I'll be headed south and towards the sunshine.
Yup. Much to be thankful for. (And I haven't even scratched the surface.)
Yup. Much to be thankful for. (And I haven't even scratched the surface.)
Saturday, November 22, 2008
No More
No matter how much life - and the people in it - try to chip away at you, I've realized that they can't control what happens inside with your heart and mind. There's comfort in that for me. That I can decide what my inner resolve will be about myself and my life and what I eventually want for it. Not knowing how to get where I resolve to get someday is the hard part but it doesn't change my decisions about it. And that makes me feel strong. No one can hurt me more than I let them and I make the decision here and now not to let them and their hurtful behavior eat away at me any longer. It stops here.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Passing on the Nuts
I went for a walk the other day at a local mountain park. It's beautiful here right now with the fall colors at a peak. I found a nut that was whole and intact (as opposed to all of the other partial nut pieces I saw along the trail) so I picked it up for Emma. A WHOLE nut! Boy, was she going to be excited!! So excited!!!
An hour later, I picked her up from school and, after listening to her tell me about her day, I gave her the nut. "Emma! I found a whole nut for you on the walking trail today!" She politely accepted it, but behind her smile I glimpsed a strange but familiar expression on her face. I recognized it immediately....
She thought I was crazy.
I was suddenly whooshed back in time to the many car rides with my mother when she would hand me some sort of treasure from her nature walks. A nut or a leaf or a pretty rock. I remember one time I went to my dorm mailbox in college and found a single, perfect pine cone sitting in there. (My mother worked at the college I attended - free tuition! - and she got the mailroom guy to put it in there.) I distinctly remember shaking my head and laughing about how crazy she was.
I don't know when I morphed from that girl into the woman I am now. One who picks up nuts that are whole and feels excited about them - and even more excited to give them to my daughter. Or that goes on for ten minutes about how the mountains look like they're on fire and, "Isn't it beautiful Emma?!" while she replies, "Um, sure." Or one that mourns when all of the leaves finally fall off my favorite tree because I know I won't get to see its beauty again for a whole year. And one that, when asked by a friend going to France what I'd like him to bring back for me, says, "A leaf. I want a French leaf." Not French wine or French chocolates, but a French leaf. I think he thought I was a little crazy too but he did bring me a leaf and I loved that leaf. (Note: He also brought back the wine and chocolates too and I thoroughly enjoyed them as well.)
When did I become my mother's daughter? Something I vowed never to become? I really don't know...but I'd like to think that I took the best of her and carry those threads of her quirkiness and goodness with me as I mother my daughter. And you know what? I still have that pine cone my mother gave me. I treasure it now because she's gone and it's nice to have a reminder of her funny ways of showing me that she was thinking about me during her day - and that she cared enough to give me the perfect pine cone she'd found.
So I'm going to continue giving Emma my weird nature trail finds. Maybe some day she'll find one of them in a box somewhere and she'll fondly remember how crazy I was. And that I loved her enough to give them to her.
An hour later, I picked her up from school and, after listening to her tell me about her day, I gave her the nut. "Emma! I found a whole nut for you on the walking trail today!" She politely accepted it, but behind her smile I glimpsed a strange but familiar expression on her face. I recognized it immediately....
She thought I was crazy.
I was suddenly whooshed back in time to the many car rides with my mother when she would hand me some sort of treasure from her nature walks. A nut or a leaf or a pretty rock. I remember one time I went to my dorm mailbox in college and found a single, perfect pine cone sitting in there. (My mother worked at the college I attended - free tuition! - and she got the mailroom guy to put it in there.) I distinctly remember shaking my head and laughing about how crazy she was.
I don't know when I morphed from that girl into the woman I am now. One who picks up nuts that are whole and feels excited about them - and even more excited to give them to my daughter. Or that goes on for ten minutes about how the mountains look like they're on fire and, "Isn't it beautiful Emma?!" while she replies, "Um, sure." Or one that mourns when all of the leaves finally fall off my favorite tree because I know I won't get to see its beauty again for a whole year. And one that, when asked by a friend going to France what I'd like him to bring back for me, says, "A leaf. I want a French leaf." Not French wine or French chocolates, but a French leaf. I think he thought I was a little crazy too but he did bring me a leaf and I loved that leaf. (Note: He also brought back the wine and chocolates too and I thoroughly enjoyed them as well.)
When did I become my mother's daughter? Something I vowed never to become? I really don't know...but I'd like to think that I took the best of her and carry those threads of her quirkiness and goodness with me as I mother my daughter. And you know what? I still have that pine cone my mother gave me. I treasure it now because she's gone and it's nice to have a reminder of her funny ways of showing me that she was thinking about me during her day - and that she cared enough to give me the perfect pine cone she'd found.
So I'm going to continue giving Emma my weird nature trail finds. Maybe some day she'll find one of them in a box somewhere and she'll fondly remember how crazy I was. And that I loved her enough to give them to her.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Sur-Real World
Emma had a sleepover Saturday night so I went to see The Duchess. (Which was really good but a bit depressing. I mean, I know of course, that women were treated horribly back then but it sucks to see it played out and to know it's a true story.) After the movie I went to Keegan's Pub - a local Irish bar - to have a drink.
Now, in order to tell you about this, I have to reveal something pretty humiliating about myself. I've already outted myself about my addiction to MTV's The Hills but I have failed to confess that I also watch The Real World sometimes. You know, "Seven strangers picked to live in a house and have their lives taped..." It's been around for 20 years or so and it's basically a romp of twenty-somethings who drink, fight, have sex and occasionally work.
Anyway, two years ago, in season nineteen the gang was in Sydney Australia and it was the usual mix of characters - a couple of slutty girls, the ex-frat boy, the recovering alcoholic, the somewhat sheltered often conservative country boy, the artistic girl who "just wants to work on her music", etc.
Most of the episodes disintegrated into a drunken brawl (or a drunken sexcapade) which is both fascinating and rather gross to watch. They also often talked about how hard their twenty-year-old lives are. Poor kids.
Back to Keegan's Pub! So I walk into the bar and I immediately notice some guy looking at me and smiling. He looked really familiar so I wondered if I knew him from somewhere. I'm such a lameass about remembering people so I figured it was a good possibility that we've met and I just couldn't place the where or how or when. I smiled back and found a seat at the bar. Then suddenly, it came to me! I KNEW who it was! It was none other than this guy....
It was Cohutta! COHUTTA!! That's right folks, good ol' boy Cohutta's ass filled that bar stool and he did it quite nicely too. He was the "somewhat-sheltered-often-conservative-country-boy" and one of my favorite characters that season. And no, I didn't talk to him. I'm not one to gush over pseudo-celebrities but it sure was one fun to watch him a few seats away. What he was doing in that bar in the middle of god-forsaken Georgia is beyond me. Going from months in Sydney, Australia back to fricking nowhere land is madness as far as I'm concerned but that's his decision I suppose. I guess you can take the boy out of the backwoods of Georgia but not the backwoods of Georgia out of the boy.
Too funny!
Now, in order to tell you about this, I have to reveal something pretty humiliating about myself. I've already outted myself about my addiction to MTV's The Hills but I have failed to confess that I also watch The Real World sometimes. You know, "Seven strangers picked to live in a house and have their lives taped..." It's been around for 20 years or so and it's basically a romp of twenty-somethings who drink, fight, have sex and occasionally work.
Anyway, two years ago, in season nineteen the gang was in Sydney Australia and it was the usual mix of characters - a couple of slutty girls, the ex-frat boy, the recovering alcoholic, the somewhat sheltered often conservative country boy, the artistic girl who "just wants to work on her music", etc.
Most of the episodes disintegrated into a drunken brawl (or a drunken sexcapade) which is both fascinating and rather gross to watch. They also often talked about how hard their twenty-year-old lives are. Poor kids.
Back to Keegan's Pub! So I walk into the bar and I immediately notice some guy looking at me and smiling. He looked really familiar so I wondered if I knew him from somewhere. I'm such a lameass about remembering people so I figured it was a good possibility that we've met and I just couldn't place the where or how or when. I smiled back and found a seat at the bar. Then suddenly, it came to me! I KNEW who it was! It was none other than this guy....
It was Cohutta! COHUTTA!! That's right folks, good ol' boy Cohutta's ass filled that bar stool and he did it quite nicely too. He was the "somewhat-sheltered-often-conservative-country-boy" and one of my favorite characters that season. And no, I didn't talk to him. I'm not one to gush over pseudo-celebrities but it sure was one fun to watch him a few seats away. What he was doing in that bar in the middle of god-forsaken Georgia is beyond me. Going from months in Sydney, Australia back to fricking nowhere land is madness as far as I'm concerned but that's his decision I suppose. I guess you can take the boy out of the backwoods of Georgia but not the backwoods of Georgia out of the boy.
Too funny!
Friday, November 7, 2008
Sarah, Sarah, Sarah...
I don't know about you but I've had people in my life that drive me crazy but I often can't seem to pinpoint what it is about them that makes me batty. Then one day they say something or do something that makes it all crystal clear to me - explains what it is in a nutshell. And all you have to do is tell someone else that story and they go, "Oooooohhhh...." and immediately understand what I'm trying to explain about the person and why they drive me nuts.
Well, that happened to me last night with Sarh Palin. The woman just cannot catch a break. I saw her on CBS Evening News. She was in a hotel lobby somewhere and was mobbed by reporters. One asked her about whether or not she was thinking about running in 2012. She waved her hand dismissively and replied: "Twenty-twelve? That sounds like years away."
'Nuff said.
Well, that happened to me last night with Sarh Palin. The woman just cannot catch a break. I saw her on CBS Evening News. She was in a hotel lobby somewhere and was mobbed by reporters. One asked her about whether or not she was thinking about running in 2012. She waved her hand dismissively and replied: "Twenty-twelve? That sounds like years away."
'Nuff said.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
The Audacity of Hope Indeed
Emma got a text message from a boy in her class yesterday morning. He sent it at 5:30 a.m. He had just found out that Obama had won and was so very excited and happy. It touched me because he's black and it got me imagining what this must be like for him. So many Americans feel hope and pride and excitement for the first time in a long time right now, but I'm not sure that white America can have any idea what this means to so many black Americans - especially to a twelve-year-old black boy.
I remember back a few years ago when Joe Lieberman was the vice presidential nominee and there was all of this discussion about a Jewish candidate and how it would be the first time we'd have a Jew in the White House. I felt so embarrassed and ashamed that it was even an issue. That it was even being discussed. What should it matter? Has America not come further along than this? Apparently not.
The same was true for me this go around. I felt embarrassed and annoyed that there was so much discussion about Obama's ethnicity - having an African father and Caucasian mother - why should it matter? The question really needed to be, Who was best for the job? We shouldn't be making a big deal out of it no matter if we thought his particular race was a good thing or bad thing. I know that this is idealistic thinking on my part but I feel like it's something that should be strived for, even if it is considered unrealistic.
But I didn't think about it through the eyes of a twelve-year-old black boy. A boy that has probably been taught about his ancestors who were slaves. Who has surely experienced racism himself many times over. Who could never picture himself as the president of this country - ever. It matters to him. It matters to him that the new president is half-black. It means something profoundly positive to him in a way he's never experienced before and maybe never thought he would in his lifetime. It's no small thing to him.
I heard a black woman senator talk yesterday of the slaves that were used to build the Capital and the White House and how they never, in their wildest dreams, could have ever imagined that someday a black man would take the oath of the highest office in the nation on those Capital steps that they were laying. Or live as chief resident in the house that they were building. It is amazing. It does matter. It gives us all hope that we have come a long way and we will successfully go a long way still in the coming years, whether the issue is racial equality, or the economy, or healthcare, or war or whatever other issues we have to deal with. We'll find our way.
I remember back a few years ago when Joe Lieberman was the vice presidential nominee and there was all of this discussion about a Jewish candidate and how it would be the first time we'd have a Jew in the White House. I felt so embarrassed and ashamed that it was even an issue. That it was even being discussed. What should it matter? Has America not come further along than this? Apparently not.
The same was true for me this go around. I felt embarrassed and annoyed that there was so much discussion about Obama's ethnicity - having an African father and Caucasian mother - why should it matter? The question really needed to be, Who was best for the job? We shouldn't be making a big deal out of it no matter if we thought his particular race was a good thing or bad thing. I know that this is idealistic thinking on my part but I feel like it's something that should be strived for, even if it is considered unrealistic.
But I didn't think about it through the eyes of a twelve-year-old black boy. A boy that has probably been taught about his ancestors who were slaves. Who has surely experienced racism himself many times over. Who could never picture himself as the president of this country - ever. It matters to him. It matters to him that the new president is half-black. It means something profoundly positive to him in a way he's never experienced before and maybe never thought he would in his lifetime. It's no small thing to him.
I heard a black woman senator talk yesterday of the slaves that were used to build the Capital and the White House and how they never, in their wildest dreams, could have ever imagined that someday a black man would take the oath of the highest office in the nation on those Capital steps that they were laying. Or live as chief resident in the house that they were building. It is amazing. It does matter. It gives us all hope that we have come a long way and we will successfully go a long way still in the coming years, whether the issue is racial equality, or the economy, or healthcare, or war or whatever other issues we have to deal with. We'll find our way.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Get Over It Rachel
I just re-read yesterday's post and I'm a little sick of myself. All that I wrote is very true and real for me but I'm a little tired of the heavy heart and "insightful" ramblings. It's time to lighten up and start laughing a little more. Sooooo, here's a joke for you:
What's the difference between a pit bull and a hockey....What's that you say? You've already heard that one? So sorry. I got nothing else. No worries though. I'm sure something ridiculous and funny will happen to me sometime today, it being Election Day and all. Go vote!
What's the difference between a pit bull and a hockey....What's that you say? You've already heard that one? So sorry. I got nothing else. No worries though. I'm sure something ridiculous and funny will happen to me sometime today, it being Election Day and all. Go vote!
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Day Thirty and Beyond - Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity-Jog
I've been home since last Saturday night but I didn't have internet for a few days and things have been pretty busy since I got back - unpacking, catching up, making phone calls, doing laundry, getting organized and oh yeah, SHIVERING. It's fricking cold here! I went from high 70s/mid-80s in Florida to high 30s/low 50s in Georgia. It's just not right. The other night, I told Greg that I missed having my balcony door open to listen to the crashing waves and feel the warm breezes. He promptly got the blow dryer out, turned it on and pointed it in my direction while making ocean sound effects. "Better?" he said. (Um, not so much, but I appreciate the effort.)
I've had a bit of a hard time since I've gotten back. Just stupid stuff. I feel a little disconnected - trying to get my head back into Emma's school activities and such, working, cleaning, paying attention to bills (Bills? What bills? HA!), details details details....And I keep dropping things, spilling things, tripping over things. I've also felt overwhelmed with the house again. Almost immediately upon my return, all that has to be done around here to make it a home that I'm proud of - one that reflects who I am and is a safe haven from the world outside - seems only a distant possibility. Actually it mostly feels like an impossibility. Everything just feels so hard again and it's discouraging. After dropping a bunch of garbage as I tried to take it out to the curb - on the heels of dropping the groceries as I dragged them into the house - I had to lecture myself, Just stop Rachel. STOP! Stop resisting it. Stop fighting it. Still not being sure what "it" is. But I know I have to figure "it" out and make this life back in reality work. It's part of the biggest lesson I learned while I was away. An important lesson. The lesson of Letting Go.
Letting go is hard for someone like me. I wouldn't say that I'm a super scary type-A, but I'm a little scary. I like things a certain way and my mind works in a categorized, methodical manner. (but I'm also really lazy about cleaning and such so I'm a bit of a dichotomy I think.) I want things orderly but I feel too lazy, paralyzed and outnumbered to make it happen in any consistent, long-term way. I still like to have my hands heavily involved in the things in my life - the house, raising Emma, the business, my creativity, various relationships, etc. It's hard to let go of so much of what I need to let go of. To walk away from trying to control so much. Letting go of some of my dreams, letting go of having things done my way, letting go of old hurts and grudges, letting go of so much of my fear, just....letting go....it can be stressful. But necessary.
When I was away, I realized how much my heart has been broken by so many things. So many people. It's been broken into tiny little pieces - almost to dust. How do I put dust back together again into something whole? Something complete. Something functional even. How do you put "shattered" back together again?
Honestly, I really don't know, but I think that Letting Go plays some part in it. Not just forgiving but being able to walk away from what I can't control and having faith that I'll be okay. That the ones that I love will be okay somehow. That the ones that I love but don't love me back will be okay - and knowing that it's a good thing to want that for them even though I'm so hurt by them. It's hard to love and not have it returned whatever the reason is. To miss people. So many people. So many goodbyes and not enough hellos in my life. I'll need to work on that.
I learned while I was away that my daughter still very much needs me. That twelve years on the earth is not enough time to prepare someone for not having their mama around day after day. She needs me in ways that I don't think either of us even realized that she needs me, and being back home, we have started to get some things back on track for her again. The flipside of that is that although I know going away was selfish of me, I also know that, as hard as it was, it was good for all involved in ways that we couldn't have anticipated, which is what I hoped for.
I learned while I away that I really don't want to live next to, across from or even nearby, people that are unkind or rude or uncaring. People that have no interest in me or my family or what I care about. I had no idea how much living near such people affects the day-to-day quality of life until I went away from it all a bit. I'm not sure what can be done about it right now with things being what they are economically but I have the goal to create a better living situation sometime in the near future.
I've learned that I also don't want to hang out with people like those mentioned above anymore either. I don't want to settle for friendships that are less than what I need or deserve just to have so-called "friends." In the last few years I have let friends - one or two in particular -be unkind to me, and those around me, primarily because they made me laugh. Laughter is very seductive for me and I'll have to watch that as I set out to meet new people and forge new friensdships. Heads up, and I know this seems obvious, but if someone is being unkind to the other people around them, they'll eventually be unkind to you. Don't think you're immune. This is who they are and they'll zing you right in the ass before you know it and when you least expect it.
I've learned that living near the ocean will change the quality of your life remarkably. I knew I loved the ocean. I knew I enjoyed the ocean. I knew the ocean was calming and beautiful and spectacular. But I had no idea being able to touch the ocean every day, see the ocean every day, watch the ocean every day would bring about a peace that I'm not sure I've ever known. None of the major stressors in my life particularly changed while I was away (some new ones were even added!) but being near the ocean made it all less stressful somehow. Made it feel more manageable. Put things in perspective.
I miss the ocean very much. I think about it all of the time as I move through the days of my "back-to-normal-life." I wonder what the sunrise looked like this morning or if the winds were high or if the shells plentiful. I brought some of the sand back and put it in several bottles displayed around the house. It reminds me of my adventure and all that I learned and all of the good that I got out of it.
I've learned how important it is to still believe in the things in your life that have always mattered to you - God, family, friendship, grace, love - even when you haven't been given much reason to believe them anymore. You have to dig deep and find that flicker of a flame that used to be the inferno of how strong your faith and belief used to be. That is called hope. You have to have hope.
I went to St. Augustine a fearful person. I came home a braver one. Not as courageous as I'm going to be but more than I was before. There's a song titled: "I Just Showed Up For My Own Life" and it helps sum up how I feel....
Spending my time sleep walking
Moving my mouth but not saying a thing
Hoping the changes would take by working their way from the outside in
I was in love with an idea
Preoccupied with how a life should appear
Spending my time at the surface repairing the holes in the shiny veneer
There are so many ways to hide
There are so many ways not to feel
There are so many ways to deny what is real
And I just showed up for my own life
And I'm standing here taking it in and it sure looks bright
I'm going to live my life inspired
Look for the holy in the common place
Open the windows and feel all that's honest and real until I'm truly amazed
I'm going to feel all my emotions
I'm going to look you in the eyes
I'm going to listen and hear until it's finally clear and it changes our lives
There are so many ways to hide
There are so many ways not to feel
There are so many ways to deny what is real
And I just showed up for my own life
And I'm standing here taking it in and it sure looks bright
I've had a bit of a hard time since I've gotten back. Just stupid stuff. I feel a little disconnected - trying to get my head back into Emma's school activities and such, working, cleaning, paying attention to bills (Bills? What bills? HA!), details details details....And I keep dropping things, spilling things, tripping over things. I've also felt overwhelmed with the house again. Almost immediately upon my return, all that has to be done around here to make it a home that I'm proud of - one that reflects who I am and is a safe haven from the world outside - seems only a distant possibility. Actually it mostly feels like an impossibility. Everything just feels so hard again and it's discouraging. After dropping a bunch of garbage as I tried to take it out to the curb - on the heels of dropping the groceries as I dragged them into the house - I had to lecture myself, Just stop Rachel. STOP! Stop resisting it. Stop fighting it. Still not being sure what "it" is. But I know I have to figure "it" out and make this life back in reality work. It's part of the biggest lesson I learned while I was away. An important lesson. The lesson of Letting Go.
Letting go is hard for someone like me. I wouldn't say that I'm a super scary type-A, but I'm a little scary. I like things a certain way and my mind works in a categorized, methodical manner. (but I'm also really lazy about cleaning and such so I'm a bit of a dichotomy I think.) I want things orderly but I feel too lazy, paralyzed and outnumbered to make it happen in any consistent, long-term way. I still like to have my hands heavily involved in the things in my life - the house, raising Emma, the business, my creativity, various relationships, etc. It's hard to let go of so much of what I need to let go of. To walk away from trying to control so much. Letting go of some of my dreams, letting go of having things done my way, letting go of old hurts and grudges, letting go of so much of my fear, just....letting go....it can be stressful. But necessary.
When I was away, I realized how much my heart has been broken by so many things. So many people. It's been broken into tiny little pieces - almost to dust. How do I put dust back together again into something whole? Something complete. Something functional even. How do you put "shattered" back together again?
Honestly, I really don't know, but I think that Letting Go plays some part in it. Not just forgiving but being able to walk away from what I can't control and having faith that I'll be okay. That the ones that I love will be okay somehow. That the ones that I love but don't love me back will be okay - and knowing that it's a good thing to want that for them even though I'm so hurt by them. It's hard to love and not have it returned whatever the reason is. To miss people. So many people. So many goodbyes and not enough hellos in my life. I'll need to work on that.
I learned while I was away that my daughter still very much needs me. That twelve years on the earth is not enough time to prepare someone for not having their mama around day after day. She needs me in ways that I don't think either of us even realized that she needs me, and being back home, we have started to get some things back on track for her again. The flipside of that is that although I know going away was selfish of me, I also know that, as hard as it was, it was good for all involved in ways that we couldn't have anticipated, which is what I hoped for.
I learned while I away that I really don't want to live next to, across from or even nearby, people that are unkind or rude or uncaring. People that have no interest in me or my family or what I care about. I had no idea how much living near such people affects the day-to-day quality of life until I went away from it all a bit. I'm not sure what can be done about it right now with things being what they are economically but I have the goal to create a better living situation sometime in the near future.
I've learned that I also don't want to hang out with people like those mentioned above anymore either. I don't want to settle for friendships that are less than what I need or deserve just to have so-called "friends." In the last few years I have let friends - one or two in particular -be unkind to me, and those around me, primarily because they made me laugh. Laughter is very seductive for me and I'll have to watch that as I set out to meet new people and forge new friensdships. Heads up, and I know this seems obvious, but if someone is being unkind to the other people around them, they'll eventually be unkind to you. Don't think you're immune. This is who they are and they'll zing you right in the ass before you know it and when you least expect it.
I've learned that living near the ocean will change the quality of your life remarkably. I knew I loved the ocean. I knew I enjoyed the ocean. I knew the ocean was calming and beautiful and spectacular. But I had no idea being able to touch the ocean every day, see the ocean every day, watch the ocean every day would bring about a peace that I'm not sure I've ever known. None of the major stressors in my life particularly changed while I was away (some new ones were even added!) but being near the ocean made it all less stressful somehow. Made it feel more manageable. Put things in perspective.
I miss the ocean very much. I think about it all of the time as I move through the days of my "back-to-normal-life." I wonder what the sunrise looked like this morning or if the winds were high or if the shells plentiful. I brought some of the sand back and put it in several bottles displayed around the house. It reminds me of my adventure and all that I learned and all of the good that I got out of it.
I've learned how important it is to still believe in the things in your life that have always mattered to you - God, family, friendship, grace, love - even when you haven't been given much reason to believe them anymore. You have to dig deep and find that flicker of a flame that used to be the inferno of how strong your faith and belief used to be. That is called hope. You have to have hope.
I went to St. Augustine a fearful person. I came home a braver one. Not as courageous as I'm going to be but more than I was before. There's a song titled: "I Just Showed Up For My Own Life" and it helps sum up how I feel....
Spending my time sleep walking
Moving my mouth but not saying a thing
Hoping the changes would take by working their way from the outside in
I was in love with an idea
Preoccupied with how a life should appear
Spending my time at the surface repairing the holes in the shiny veneer
There are so many ways to hide
There are so many ways not to feel
There are so many ways to deny what is real
And I just showed up for my own life
And I'm standing here taking it in and it sure looks bright
I'm going to live my life inspired
Look for the holy in the common place
Open the windows and feel all that's honest and real until I'm truly amazed
I'm going to feel all my emotions
I'm going to look you in the eyes
I'm going to listen and hear until it's finally clear and it changes our lives
There are so many ways to hide
There are so many ways not to feel
There are so many ways to deny what is real
And I just showed up for my own life
And I'm standing here taking it in and it sure looks bright
Friday, October 24, 2008
Day Twenty-Nine - Behind What Shows
I enjoyed the rainstorm today. The ocean is still beautiful even with all of the dark clouds, driving rain and raging waves. The rain finally stopped a couple of hours ago so I decided to head down to the beach to check it out. It was great to be in the middle of all of that meteorological action.
I took a short walk and then stood there and stared. The seagulls were hovering close to the water hoping to nab something that had washed up in all of the turmoil. I happened to look up and saw a crack in the clouds. It was amazing how brilliant the sun was and how blue the sky was behind all of the storminess. All of that shine, seemingly absent, but there all along waiting for a crack in the darkness to show itself.
I'm like that I think. I feel like I have all of this potential. Not an extraordinary level of potential - not a Pulitzer Prize kind of potential - but potential to be so much more than I am right now. I feel like the years have taken a toll on me well beyond my 43 years and that there's so much shine and brightness behind the heavy weight of all of the darkness that has taken over me.
Maybe this trip is just the kick-off ceremony to all the goodness that lies ahead for me...that is my fervent hope.
Wow, it's good to feel hope again. Will faith be soon to follow?
Here's a song titled "Something Changed" and it expresses what I feel. (It's originally from the movie, The Ultimate Gift, and that's the only video I could find for it.)
YouTube - Sara Groves Ultimate Gift Track
Here are the lyrics:
Something changed inside me broke wide open all spilled out
Till I had no doubt that something changed
Never would have believed it till I felt it in my own heart
In the deepest part the healing came
And I cannot make it
And I cannot fake it
And I can't afford it
But it's mine
Something so amazing in a heart so dark and dim
When a wall falls down and the light comes in
And I cannot make it
And I cannot fake it
And I can't afford it
But it's mine
I took a short walk and then stood there and stared. The seagulls were hovering close to the water hoping to nab something that had washed up in all of the turmoil. I happened to look up and saw a crack in the clouds. It was amazing how brilliant the sun was and how blue the sky was behind all of the storminess. All of that shine, seemingly absent, but there all along waiting for a crack in the darkness to show itself.
I'm like that I think. I feel like I have all of this potential. Not an extraordinary level of potential - not a Pulitzer Prize kind of potential - but potential to be so much more than I am right now. I feel like the years have taken a toll on me well beyond my 43 years and that there's so much shine and brightness behind the heavy weight of all of the darkness that has taken over me.
Maybe this trip is just the kick-off ceremony to all the goodness that lies ahead for me...that is my fervent hope.
Wow, it's good to feel hope again. Will faith be soon to follow?
Here's a song titled "Something Changed" and it expresses what I feel. (It's originally from the movie, The Ultimate Gift, and that's the only video I could find for it.)
YouTube - Sara Groves Ultimate Gift Track
Here are the lyrics:
Something changed inside me broke wide open all spilled out
Till I had no doubt that something changed
Never would have believed it till I felt it in my own heart
In the deepest part the healing came
And I cannot make it
And I cannot fake it
And I can't afford it
But it's mine
Something so amazing in a heart so dark and dim
When a wall falls down and the light comes in
And I cannot make it
And I cannot fake it
And I can't afford it
But it's mine
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Day Twenty-Seven - Brownies Go a Long Way Towards Good Will
A few days ago, I spent a lovely day in downtown St. Augustine. I got off of the main strip of St. George Street where there are quite a few shops, but most of them are a disappointment. Full of crappy t-shirts, crappy key chains, crappy shell jewelry, crappy Christmas ornaments that have "St. Augustine - 2008" engraved on them. Just tacky.
Anyway, I ended up going down these funny little streets and discovered all sorts of retail treasures and historical sites. They were unique and quaint and - I don't use this word often mind you - delightful! It was fun and peaceful and relaxing.
After that, I came home, changed into my swimsuit and spent two hours on the beach and read and listened to music and stared at the water. It was fun and peaceful and relaxing.
I strolled back to the condo all aglow in the rays of my fun and peaceful and relaxing great day. I was looking forward to doing some creating, having a little dinner, a lot of wine, a fun movie and you know, enjoying the fun and peaceful and relaxing evening ahead.
As I approached the complex from the boardwalk though I heard a loud banging - no, a HELLATIOUSLY loud banging - and I thought, Oh no, they've begun the stucco work on my side of the complex now. Ugh!
But it was much worse.
I got to the third floor and walked towards my unit and it's getting louder and louder. The walkway is shaking beneath me. I unlock my door and walk in and every light fixture and ocean-themed wall hanging were throbbing. It was 7.8 on the Richter scale for sure. DID I MENTION THAT IT WAS REALLY LOUD?! And right above me? Yup, the unit right above mine. Of course, I mean, it's me right? Why should I be surprised?
I tried to call the front desk to find out if it was their people working on something or if there was some other project going on and guess what? THEY COULDN'T HEAR ME! And I couldn't hear them either. Dammit. I sat on the couch for a few minutes thinking, I can do this. I'm sure it's short lived. I'll just suck it up.
Um, not so much. I lasted two minutes and 32 seconds before I marched myself up there to have a little talk with Mr. Noisyman. I knocked and knocked but, of course, he couldn't hear me. So, finally I just marched right in and started shouting at the top of my lungs until someone eventually heard me, and out comes Mr. Dusty Noisyman. First name, Dusty, last name, Noisyman. Turns out he was JACKHAMMERING the tile in the two bathrooms as the first stage of some renovations.
I took a deep breath, pasted a smile on my face and politely explained that there's no way this can happen. It was intolerable. Wouldn't you know it, he was the nicest man! He apologized and explained and we made arrangements for a time that was good for me to be out the next day for a short while so he could finish the jackhammering. I had some errands to run anyway so it all worked out.
The next day I made him a big plate of brownies and you would've thought I had handed him a plate of gold. He's checked in everyday since to make sure it's not too loud. I figure that he's either hitting on me, in search of more brownies or is just a nice guy. I suspect he's just a nice guy. Thank you Dusty.
Anyway, I ended up going down these funny little streets and discovered all sorts of retail treasures and historical sites. They were unique and quaint and - I don't use this word often mind you - delightful! It was fun and peaceful and relaxing.
After that, I came home, changed into my swimsuit and spent two hours on the beach and read and listened to music and stared at the water. It was fun and peaceful and relaxing.
I strolled back to the condo all aglow in the rays of my fun and peaceful and relaxing great day. I was looking forward to doing some creating, having a little dinner, a lot of wine, a fun movie and you know, enjoying the fun and peaceful and relaxing evening ahead.
As I approached the complex from the boardwalk though I heard a loud banging - no, a HELLATIOUSLY loud banging - and I thought, Oh no, they've begun the stucco work on my side of the complex now. Ugh!
But it was much worse.
I got to the third floor and walked towards my unit and it's getting louder and louder. The walkway is shaking beneath me. I unlock my door and walk in and every light fixture and ocean-themed wall hanging were throbbing. It was 7.8 on the Richter scale for sure. DID I MENTION THAT IT WAS REALLY LOUD?! And right above me? Yup, the unit right above mine. Of course, I mean, it's me right? Why should I be surprised?
I tried to call the front desk to find out if it was their people working on something or if there was some other project going on and guess what? THEY COULDN'T HEAR ME! And I couldn't hear them either. Dammit. I sat on the couch for a few minutes thinking, I can do this. I'm sure it's short lived. I'll just suck it up.
Um, not so much. I lasted two minutes and 32 seconds before I marched myself up there to have a little talk with Mr. Noisyman. I knocked and knocked but, of course, he couldn't hear me. So, finally I just marched right in and started shouting at the top of my lungs until someone eventually heard me, and out comes Mr. Dusty Noisyman. First name, Dusty, last name, Noisyman. Turns out he was JACKHAMMERING the tile in the two bathrooms as the first stage of some renovations.
I took a deep breath, pasted a smile on my face and politely explained that there's no way this can happen. It was intolerable. Wouldn't you know it, he was the nicest man! He apologized and explained and we made arrangements for a time that was good for me to be out the next day for a short while so he could finish the jackhammering. I had some errands to run anyway so it all worked out.
The next day I made him a big plate of brownies and you would've thought I had handed him a plate of gold. He's checked in everyday since to make sure it's not too loud. I figure that he's either hitting on me, in search of more brownies or is just a nice guy. I suspect he's just a nice guy. Thank you Dusty.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Day Twenty-Six - I Love a Lonely Day
"The sea was angry that day my friends." --George Costanza
There's a storm a-brewin' and the sea is angry. It's supposed to stay in this funk of a mood until Saturday. Which, in a way, is kinda cool because a good storm by the sea is pretty spectacular. But, it also kinda sucks to have my last full day here with such bad weather. I think what I'm going to do is just hunker down with some good food, wine, a couple of DVDs, and a good book. I'll pretend this last showing of the ocean's power is just for me - a way of sending me off.
Two things I've learned in the last few days:
One, if you're a woman staying alone in a condo complex that has proven to attract looney people, don't ever - EVER - watch The Strangers after dark. It takes the ol' imagination to dark places. I ended up having to fast forward through most of it because I wanted to see how it ended but was too scared to actually watch it. It didn't make for a good night's sleep.
Two, at some point in your life you should experience having a whole beach to yourself. The best way to do that is to go for a walk when a storm is about to arrive. All of the smart people (Yeah, they may be smart but they're crazy too.) were apparently safe and sound in their condos but I don't care if it was stupid. It was worth it. There have been a couple of times in the past month when the closest person I saw was a mere dot in the distance, but this was the first time I truly had the whole thing to myself. It was beautiful.
When I first got here, I was stressed because I wasn't sure how to make the most of being so close to the ocean. It seemed too vast and too consuming to grasp fully. But I learned as the days passed how to just let it be and enjoy it. My solitary walk this afternoon seems a fitting way to wrap it up.
I am blessed.
Here are the lyrics to a song that seems fitting:
TV's off at 1am,
One more day alone again.
The work gets longer every day,
Why'd I have to get away?
But I have found a comfort here....
Solitude can be so dear.
Loneliness is not so blue,
When it puts my mind on you.
I love a lonely day,
It makes me think of you,
All alone, I can easily find your love,
I love,
I love a lonely day,
It chases me to you,
It clears my heart,
Lets my very best part shine through;
Its you.
Lonely people everywhere,
Lucky, lonely, ones who care.
Youve got all you need and more,
Someone to be lonely for,
Someone cries for you to hear,
Take your heart and wipe that tear,
Give them someone they can miss,
Give them love and sing them this.
--Amy Grant
There's a storm a-brewin' and the sea is angry. It's supposed to stay in this funk of a mood until Saturday. Which, in a way, is kinda cool because a good storm by the sea is pretty spectacular. But, it also kinda sucks to have my last full day here with such bad weather. I think what I'm going to do is just hunker down with some good food, wine, a couple of DVDs, and a good book. I'll pretend this last showing of the ocean's power is just for me - a way of sending me off.
Two things I've learned in the last few days:
One, if you're a woman staying alone in a condo complex that has proven to attract looney people, don't ever - EVER - watch The Strangers after dark. It takes the ol' imagination to dark places. I ended up having to fast forward through most of it because I wanted to see how it ended but was too scared to actually watch it. It didn't make for a good night's sleep.
Two, at some point in your life you should experience having a whole beach to yourself. The best way to do that is to go for a walk when a storm is about to arrive. All of the smart people (Yeah, they may be smart but they're crazy too.) were apparently safe and sound in their condos but I don't care if it was stupid. It was worth it. There have been a couple of times in the past month when the closest person I saw was a mere dot in the distance, but this was the first time I truly had the whole thing to myself. It was beautiful.
When I first got here, I was stressed because I wasn't sure how to make the most of being so close to the ocean. It seemed too vast and too consuming to grasp fully. But I learned as the days passed how to just let it be and enjoy it. My solitary walk this afternoon seems a fitting way to wrap it up.
I am blessed.
Here are the lyrics to a song that seems fitting:
TV's off at 1am,
One more day alone again.
The work gets longer every day,
Why'd I have to get away?
But I have found a comfort here....
Solitude can be so dear.
Loneliness is not so blue,
When it puts my mind on you.
I love a lonely day,
It makes me think of you,
All alone, I can easily find your love,
I love,
I love a lonely day,
It chases me to you,
It clears my heart,
Lets my very best part shine through;
Its you.
Lonely people everywhere,
Lucky, lonely, ones who care.
Youve got all you need and more,
Someone to be lonely for,
Someone cries for you to hear,
Take your heart and wipe that tear,
Give them someone they can miss,
Give them love and sing them this.
--Amy Grant
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Day Twenty-Five - Laughter Through Tears
I've been reading a blog the last few months about a 39-year-old mom of two children, Michelle who was very sick with the autoimmune disease, scleroderma. It's a hideous disease - you may have heard of it when Bob Saget's sister died of the same thing years ago. She chronicled her journey with lots of laughter and calm. She died last week after a valiant fight. I never met her but felt like I knew her because her writing felt so familiar in its approach. Every death teaches us something. Hers taught me how to be a better, more appreciative mom. Today's entry had me bawling my eyes out. I hope you take some time to check it out though. It's worth the tears.
Diary of a Dying Mom
On the heels of watching the slide show that was posted on that blog today, I decided to watch another video I had heard about:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T36KFPGkUJA
Soon, I was in a full belly laugh even as I was still drying my tears from Michelle's slide show. Laughter through tears can be one of the most invigorating feelings. It's not something we actively seek out but when it happens spontaneously - purely - it makes us feel like we're really living fully in that moment. That we're letting ourselves feel it all - so much at once.
I remember when Joanne died - we were in shock of course - the sudden death of a loved one will do that to you. It messes with your mind. But we were all sitting around talking after dinner one night not long after the funeral and my friend, T, was there. We were reminiscing, sharing funny stories (Joanne was all about the funny) and laughing so hard even as we cried. Later, T told me that she was so surprised by that and that it was a real testament to our strength that we chose laughter through tears. In doing so we not only remembered her death and how absolutely heartbreaking it was to us, but we were also willing to remember her life and how happy knowing her had made us.
I think that was the moment that I must have subconsciously made the decision to laugh as much as possible. That somehow I knew instinctively that I would need it to survive this horrible tragedy. Of course, I had no idea how much worse it was going to get in the coming years and how much I would come to rely on laughter more than I ever imagined. It was, and still is, my lifeline. I cannot overstate this - laughter is why I'm not dead myself or in a straight jacket.
Clearly, all that my family's been through has done its damage. It's permanent and irreversible it seems. How could it not be? But I'm proud of us. We still laugh. And when we still laugh, we still have hope.
Diary of a Dying Mom
On the heels of watching the slide show that was posted on that blog today, I decided to watch another video I had heard about:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T36KFPGkUJA
Soon, I was in a full belly laugh even as I was still drying my tears from Michelle's slide show. Laughter through tears can be one of the most invigorating feelings. It's not something we actively seek out but when it happens spontaneously - purely - it makes us feel like we're really living fully in that moment. That we're letting ourselves feel it all - so much at once.
I remember when Joanne died - we were in shock of course - the sudden death of a loved one will do that to you. It messes with your mind. But we were all sitting around talking after dinner one night not long after the funeral and my friend, T, was there. We were reminiscing, sharing funny stories (Joanne was all about the funny) and laughing so hard even as we cried. Later, T told me that she was so surprised by that and that it was a real testament to our strength that we chose laughter through tears. In doing so we not only remembered her death and how absolutely heartbreaking it was to us, but we were also willing to remember her life and how happy knowing her had made us.
I think that was the moment that I must have subconsciously made the decision to laugh as much as possible. That somehow I knew instinctively that I would need it to survive this horrible tragedy. Of course, I had no idea how much worse it was going to get in the coming years and how much I would come to rely on laughter more than I ever imagined. It was, and still is, my lifeline. I cannot overstate this - laughter is why I'm not dead myself or in a straight jacket.
Clearly, all that my family's been through has done its damage. It's permanent and irreversible it seems. How could it not be? But I'm proud of us. We still laugh. And when we still laugh, we still have hope.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Day Twenty-Four - Calmer Mood (And a Funny Story!)
I feel a lot calmer today. A situation that I was really stressed about over the weekend resolved itself this morning and it took a big load off. Whew! I took three walks today and my foot was feeling it and swelled up. I've broken it twice in a year-and-a-half and this is the first time in a long time that it's been swollen. Oh well. The walks were worth it. The skies were clear and the temperatures a bit cool, but refreshing. The breezes cleared my head and I'm enjoying life.
I must seem rather manic in my moods.
Anyway, the other day, Bev and I were in downtown St. Augustine and it was hard to find a parking spot. Saturday is hopping during the dinner hour as the restaurants come alive with music and happy hour and good food. We were following (stalking) an old couple to their car so we could take their spot. Here's the conversation that ensued:
Bev: It feels like Christmas at the mall. Having to follow people out to their cars.
Me: Turn on your blinker.
Bev: I don't want to follow them too close.
Me: Turn on your blinker. Ya gotta be aggressive.
Bev: That old man looks angry at us.
Me (said not unkindly but just as a statement of fact): He's not angry, he's just deformed.
Bev: What?! What are you talking about?!
Me: He's got a facial deformity. It makes him look angry.
Bev: Oh! I didn't even look at his face, I just noticed that he kept looking back our way...."He's not angry, he's just deformed." Who says that?
Both of us: HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
It's so sick that we cracked ourselves up this way.
I'm sure he was a very nice man. Sorry Mr. Man! I truly didn't mean it in a bad way - it was just my immediate reaction to try to reassure Bev that he wasn't mad - he just looked mad but couldn't help it.
Wouldn't that be a funny headline though?
Man Not Angry, Just Deformed
Two other headlines from recent events in my life:
Near Naked Woman Steals Man's Grapes
and
Large Number of Caucasian Geisha Spotted in Downtown Area
These things really happened. It's not been boring.
I must seem rather manic in my moods.
Anyway, the other day, Bev and I were in downtown St. Augustine and it was hard to find a parking spot. Saturday is hopping during the dinner hour as the restaurants come alive with music and happy hour and good food. We were following (stalking) an old couple to their car so we could take their spot. Here's the conversation that ensued:
Bev: It feels like Christmas at the mall. Having to follow people out to their cars.
Me: Turn on your blinker.
Bev: I don't want to follow them too close.
Me: Turn on your blinker. Ya gotta be aggressive.
Bev: That old man looks angry at us.
Me (said not unkindly but just as a statement of fact): He's not angry, he's just deformed.
Bev: What?! What are you talking about?!
Me: He's got a facial deformity. It makes him look angry.
Bev: Oh! I didn't even look at his face, I just noticed that he kept looking back our way...."He's not angry, he's just deformed." Who says that?
Both of us: HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
It's so sick that we cracked ourselves up this way.
I'm sure he was a very nice man. Sorry Mr. Man! I truly didn't mean it in a bad way - it was just my immediate reaction to try to reassure Bev that he wasn't mad - he just looked mad but couldn't help it.
Wouldn't that be a funny headline though?
Man Not Angry, Just Deformed
Two other headlines from recent events in my life:
Near Naked Woman Steals Man's Grapes
and
Large Number of Caucasian Geisha Spotted in Downtown Area
These things really happened. It's not been boring.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Day Twenty-Three - Somewhere In Between
The weather reflects my mood today. Not sunny and clear but not quite stormy either. Somewhere in between where it's frustrating and in a state of limbo. There's an undercurrent of threatening stress but nothing so obviously wrong that justifies an actual, all-out bad mood. Unsettling.
I feel my time here winding down and I have mixed feelings about it. Part of me is so scared to go back to reality and get back into the full swing of things again. I knew this trip wouldn't solve everything - or maybe anything - but I hope it did me a lot of good. I realized today that I won't know if it did - or how much it did - until I get back into my life and test it out a bit. That's nerve racking. There's still so much that still seems unresolved in my life and even though there were no big answers to those problems on this trip, I do hope that I'll be able to handle them better simply for having the opportunity to rest.
I'll be sad to lose my neighbor, The Ocean. His company has done me good and I'll miss him. I dread waking up to looking at my awful neighbors across the street back in inland suburbia instead of the beautiful sunrise and ocean waves. I'll miss my walks through saltwater and soft sand. I'll miss looking at shells. I'll miss watching dogs fetch sticks that their master's have thrown. I'll miss the soft breezes.
But there's also a part of me that is excited about going back home and resuming some normalcy. As mundane as it can be, there's comfort in the routine. I also need to get back to Emma. I've asked a lot of her by going on this big adventure and she's been great. So has Greg. He's done a great job "holding down the fort" and I appreciate him for that. It's time for me to get back and do my part.
Mixed-up feelings for sure. But it all seems familiar somehow. Much of my life is lived in a state of feeling hope and resignation at the same time. It can be stressful and unsettling but it is what it is and I have to get on with it. I plan on making the most of the rest of my time here in the next few days. That is yet undefined but...that's life, right?
I feel my time here winding down and I have mixed feelings about it. Part of me is so scared to go back to reality and get back into the full swing of things again. I knew this trip wouldn't solve everything - or maybe anything - but I hope it did me a lot of good. I realized today that I won't know if it did - or how much it did - until I get back into my life and test it out a bit. That's nerve racking. There's still so much that still seems unresolved in my life and even though there were no big answers to those problems on this trip, I do hope that I'll be able to handle them better simply for having the opportunity to rest.
I'll be sad to lose my neighbor, The Ocean. His company has done me good and I'll miss him. I dread waking up to looking at my awful neighbors across the street back in inland suburbia instead of the beautiful sunrise and ocean waves. I'll miss my walks through saltwater and soft sand. I'll miss looking at shells. I'll miss watching dogs fetch sticks that their master's have thrown. I'll miss the soft breezes.
But there's also a part of me that is excited about going back home and resuming some normalcy. As mundane as it can be, there's comfort in the routine. I also need to get back to Emma. I've asked a lot of her by going on this big adventure and she's been great. So has Greg. He's done a great job "holding down the fort" and I appreciate him for that. It's time for me to get back and do my part.
Mixed-up feelings for sure. But it all seems familiar somehow. Much of my life is lived in a state of feeling hope and resignation at the same time. It can be stressful and unsettling but it is what it is and I have to get on with it. I plan on making the most of the rest of my time here in the next few days. That is yet undefined but...that's life, right?
Day Twenty-Two - Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
This past Friday morning a group of women arrived in a condo across the courtyard and they were really loud. There seemed to be about five of them and they looked to be in their thirties or forties. As the day wore on their rambunctiousness escalated as they talked and laughed and screamed and danced and even threw in a sorority cheer or two. It was clear that some (a lot of!) alcohol was involved.
What was most fascinating about them was that their high energy shenanigans were sustained at that level for nearly 48 hours straight. When I went to bed at 11 pm Friday night it was still going strong. They then woke me up at 1 am, 3 am and again at 7 am. It continued all of Saturday too. I went out with a friend around 1:30 and when we returned at 10:00 there they were, still going strong. As we watched them, we suddenly see their balcony light up from below and the security guard was telling them to quiet it down. They mumbled something and went inside for a little while and then came back out to continue on a little while later. Finally, around midnight after one of them threw-up over the balcony, they staggered inside and turned out all of the lights. Time for some sleep finally. The sleep seems to have done them good as they're out there right now, as I write this at 9 am, back to their loud banter.
Obviously this was a much anticipated girls weekend away and they were going to make the most of it. Why waste this precious time away from their regular lives with something as mundane as sleep? I can almost see the e-mail conversations flying back and forth between them all in the past few weeks before their arrival agreeing that they would sleep as little as possible and who's going to bring the blender and margarita mix? I don't begrudge them any of it honestly because I understand it. I understand that need to just let loose and have some fun. To be a hint of their former selves for a few days - before husbands, kids, mortgages and min-vans came along. Who can blame them?
Although none of it was as raucous as this group of women, I've had a few visits from friends while I've been here and it's been so much fun to catch up and just be together. My friend T flew in and spent the weekend with me a few weeks ago. We ate and talked (and talked and talked) and went shopping and to the beach....
Isn't she pretty?
I've know her since 6th grade and it's so precious to me that we're still friends and can have so much fun together.
My friend, Bev, came to visit yesterday and there's a long, interesting history with her. She was with my sister, Joanne, when she had the accident and we'll always share that connection. It's a profound thing that's hard to understand or explain. Oh! And she also dated Greg before I met him back in college! Hahaha!!!
She's pretty too - the picture quality just sucks!
What was most fascinating about them was that their high energy shenanigans were sustained at that level for nearly 48 hours straight. When I went to bed at 11 pm Friday night it was still going strong. They then woke me up at 1 am, 3 am and again at 7 am. It continued all of Saturday too. I went out with a friend around 1:30 and when we returned at 10:00 there they were, still going strong. As we watched them, we suddenly see their balcony light up from below and the security guard was telling them to quiet it down. They mumbled something and went inside for a little while and then came back out to continue on a little while later. Finally, around midnight after one of them threw-up over the balcony, they staggered inside and turned out all of the lights. Time for some sleep finally. The sleep seems to have done them good as they're out there right now, as I write this at 9 am, back to their loud banter.
Obviously this was a much anticipated girls weekend away and they were going to make the most of it. Why waste this precious time away from their regular lives with something as mundane as sleep? I can almost see the e-mail conversations flying back and forth between them all in the past few weeks before their arrival agreeing that they would sleep as little as possible and who's going to bring the blender and margarita mix? I don't begrudge them any of it honestly because I understand it. I understand that need to just let loose and have some fun. To be a hint of their former selves for a few days - before husbands, kids, mortgages and min-vans came along. Who can blame them?
Although none of it was as raucous as this group of women, I've had a few visits from friends while I've been here and it's been so much fun to catch up and just be together. My friend T flew in and spent the weekend with me a few weeks ago. We ate and talked (and talked and talked) and went shopping and to the beach....
Isn't she pretty?I've know her since 6th grade and it's so precious to me that we're still friends and can have so much fun together.
My friend, Bev, came to visit yesterday and there's a long, interesting history with her. She was with my sister, Joanne, when she had the accident and we'll always share that connection. It's a profound thing that's hard to understand or explain. Oh! And she also dated Greg before I met him back in college! Hahaha!!!
She's pretty too - the picture quality just sucks!
Listening to those party ladies across the courtyard all weekend and spending time with some dear old (in length of time - not age!) friends just makes it all the clearer to me that I miss having girlfriends around me. The kind that I can unload all the stuff in my head to. The kind where my side hurts at the end of the evening from laughing so hard. The kind that won't walk away when the going gets tough. The kind that are in it with me for life. The kind that I am there for as well. The kind that I can believe in...
I had so many friends in high school and college, but over the years life got busier and busier for all of us and things - relationships - fell by the wayside. And, as much as I hate to admit this, some friendships ended out of pure rejection or abandonment of the relationship for whatever reason. It's always been so mysterious to me - and sad. But the good news is that it's a problem that can be completely remedied with a little conscious effort and commitment. I hope to reach out to both old friends and new acquaintances when I return home in the hopes of making my life that much more fulfilling and richer. Not sure how to find a way to trust people again but I'm ready to try and that's the most I can ask for right now right? It's step one...
Friday, October 17, 2008
Day Twenty-One - What I've learned This Week
End of week three here at beachside condo adventure. I've learned a few things this week:
I've learned that it's hard to be away from your twelve-year-old while school's in session. And that make-up work is a bitch.
I've learned that I am actually motivated to exercise when the conditions are right. I've been walking twice a day. How could I not? I have the ocean as my walking companion.
I've learned that I really want a puppy.
I've learned that I miss getting together with girlfriends regularly. I'll need to work on that.
I've learned that one of the best things EVER is to be able to watch TV and the ocean waves at the same time. Who knew?!
I've learned that when you stop believing in anything - marriage, friendship, health, God, family, love, the church, your country, hope - you're not governed by anything and you start breaking the rules and people get hurt.
I've learned that I love to create and that I never want to neglect that part of myself again.
I've learned that I love to write and I hope I get better and better at it.
I've learned that it's hard to be away from your twelve-year-old while school's in session. And that make-up work is a bitch.
I've learned that I am actually motivated to exercise when the conditions are right. I've been walking twice a day. How could I not? I have the ocean as my walking companion.
I've learned that I really want a puppy.
I've learned that I miss getting together with girlfriends regularly. I'll need to work on that.
I've learned that one of the best things EVER is to be able to watch TV and the ocean waves at the same time. Who knew?!
I've learned that when you stop believing in anything - marriage, friendship, health, God, family, love, the church, your country, hope - you're not governed by anything and you start breaking the rules and people get hurt.
I've learned that I love to create and that I never want to neglect that part of myself again.
I've learned that I love to write and I hope I get better and better at it.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Day Twenty - Footsteps
I hate pictures of myself. I have this weird double chin and big ears and I'm pretty unattractive when I squint - and I seem to always be squinting because I'm really sensitive to sunlight. Makes me sound like a nocturnal troll or something, doesn't it?
I took some pictures of myself as I moved through my day today though.
Here's me on the little boardwalk to the beach...
Here's me on the beach...
I'm really enjoying it here. It's going to be hard to have it all end next weekend.
I took some pictures of myself as I moved through my day today though.
Here's me on the little boardwalk to the beach...
Here's me on the beach...
Here's me in the water...
Here's me lounging by the poolside...
Here's me on taking it all in on my balcony...
This is my shadow. It made me laugh out loud because I have freakishly long legs and this shows it in such a funny exaggerated way.
I'm really enjoying it here. It's going to be hard to have it all end next weekend.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Day Nineteen - She Gave Me One of Life's Greatest Gifts - Laughter
Today would have been my mom's eighty-first birthday. It's hard to imagine what she'd be like at that age. She died when she was fifty-nine. I know that seems like a long time ago but I still miss her. She would have loved Emma.
Happy Birthday Mom. You were a hoot. Thanks for teaching me how to laugh - even when the going got tough.
Happy Birthday Mom. You were a hoot. Thanks for teaching me how to laugh - even when the going got tough.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Day Eighteen - Another Year - Woo Hoo!!
When this trip became a reality and I saw that I would be here for my birthday I immediately thought of this clip from Designing Women for two reasons: one, because it's just the kind of idiotic thing that I would do. (Charlene had jokingly asked for a soldier for her birthday so when this guy showed up she thought it was all for her.) And two, because being here is an amazing luxurious treat that is not lost on me and when I sent the e-mail with shaking hand to the owner of this condo to confirm that yes, I wanted to do this, I clapped my hands together and chanted, "Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me!" over and over again.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zJkcYnqWVs
I'm so happy to have made it another year (it's really quite an accomplishment in my family!) and to be here, in this beautiful place, to ring in my 43rd year is such a gift. I will treasure this birthday always.
Happy birthday to me indeed.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zJkcYnqWVs
I'm so happy to have made it another year (it's really quite an accomplishment in my family!) and to be here, in this beautiful place, to ring in my 43rd year is such a gift. I will treasure this birthday always.
Happy birthday to me indeed.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Days Fifteen, Sixteen and Seventeen - Emma's In Love
My girl and the ocean. It's a love affair that can't be explained. When she was two or three we made sure that we were "good" parents and signed her up for the obligatory swim lessons because we wanted her to love the water, not be afraid of it and know how to stay above it. We tried the group thing at the local YMCA. We tried individual lessons in our community pool. We tried the mommy and me route too. But she wasn't having it. She was so afraid. We cajoled, we coaxed, we reassured and we even scolded, but to no avail.
Looking back I think it had something to do with having a problem with her gross motor skills. Her fine motor skills were well above par but she had trouble with jumping and running and even walking a lot of the time. She had a strange gait. "She trips over air." I used to say. Our pediatrician advised us to have her checked out so we took her to various specialists - orthopedist, physical therapists, neurologist - and the final conclusion was that she was just growing too fast. She grew 17 inches her first two years and she simply couldn't keep up with her rate of growth. The distance between her eyes and the ground was constantly changing and she couldn't get all of those long limbs coordinated. When she was in the water she felt even more out of control with no ground beneath her so of course she was afraid. She was the same way on swings too. It freaked her out to just hang there, suspended without any way to get her footing.
I feel bad when I think back on that now. How I used to believe that you had to be tough on kids to get them moving in a certain direction - in what you perceive to be the right time for them. I guess I still think that's the case sometimes but only after you've really looked at the situation openly and honestly and listened and heard what your child is telling you, either with their words or their actions and reactions to a particular situation or issue.
We thought the right thing to do was to get her in the water early in life and that by doing so she would be comfortable with it sooner. But the truth was, she wasn't comfortable. She instinctively knew her own limits and was actually being really smart and had a great sense of self-preservation.
After all of our various attempts at pushing this swimming thing on her, one day when she was about four or five, she finally announced to us, "I will learn to swim when I'm eight." ???? We thought that was so funny. It seemed so arbitrary to us. Why eight? What was her thought process to come to that conclusion? We had long given up on this "early in the water" business so we just shrugged our shoulders and said, "Okay, when you're eight then." and dropped it because by then we had learned about our daughter than she had good instincts.
In the meantime, we continued to take her to the pool every chance we could and she loved to play and splash and have a great time in the water - just no actual swimming or diving or even jumping off the sides of the pool. But wouldn't you know it, sure enough, when she was eight she said, "I'm ready to learn how to swim now." And she did. In fact, she learned how to swim so well that now she's on the swim team for her school and also part of a local swim league. It's her one and only athletic interest - and people - she's good at it! She's found a purpose for those long limbs and she feels free in the water. Free from all of that lack of coordination that she still has to contend with on land.
When she arrived here on Saturday the first thing she did was give me a long hug and then she proceeded with asking repeatedly when we could go down to the beach. (What a relief that she went for the hug first!) We went down there and she had a blast. She was so free and happy and funny - playing in her favorite playground in the world. She spent many hours body surfing on her boogie-board and happily getting her butt kicked by the waves.
Her love of water isn't just about swimming though. She decided years ago that she wants to be a marine biologist or oceanographer and it has stuck. At first, we thought it was probably just a passing fancy - one of many on the topic of her career choices, we thought. We were wrong. She is already looking into colleges that offer that type of program and she's only 12. Granted, we know that it may change for her after all, but that doesn't appear to be happening anytime soon. She knows about shells and marine life and currents and the relationship between the tides and the sky and lighthouses and boats and fish and...on and on....She desperately wants to learn to scuba dive and how to sail and wants to live by the ocean someday.....
She's come full circle - from fear to love - and I feel so privileged to be able to watch her make these mental, emotional and physical journeys. I hope that she continues to make the same journey about the many other things that will come up in her life that seem scary to her at first. That she won't live in fear, but in courage. I've tried to teach her that it's not brave if you're not scared and she has shown me bravery many times about many things in her short life so far. I'm lucky and blessed to be her mom.
Looking back I think it had something to do with having a problem with her gross motor skills. Her fine motor skills were well above par but she had trouble with jumping and running and even walking a lot of the time. She had a strange gait. "She trips over air." I used to say. Our pediatrician advised us to have her checked out so we took her to various specialists - orthopedist, physical therapists, neurologist - and the final conclusion was that she was just growing too fast. She grew 17 inches her first two years and she simply couldn't keep up with her rate of growth. The distance between her eyes and the ground was constantly changing and she couldn't get all of those long limbs coordinated. When she was in the water she felt even more out of control with no ground beneath her so of course she was afraid. She was the same way on swings too. It freaked her out to just hang there, suspended without any way to get her footing.
I feel bad when I think back on that now. How I used to believe that you had to be tough on kids to get them moving in a certain direction - in what you perceive to be the right time for them. I guess I still think that's the case sometimes but only after you've really looked at the situation openly and honestly and listened and heard what your child is telling you, either with their words or their actions and reactions to a particular situation or issue.
We thought the right thing to do was to get her in the water early in life and that by doing so she would be comfortable with it sooner. But the truth was, she wasn't comfortable. She instinctively knew her own limits and was actually being really smart and had a great sense of self-preservation.
After all of our various attempts at pushing this swimming thing on her, one day when she was about four or five, she finally announced to us, "I will learn to swim when I'm eight." ???? We thought that was so funny. It seemed so arbitrary to us. Why eight? What was her thought process to come to that conclusion? We had long given up on this "early in the water" business so we just shrugged our shoulders and said, "Okay, when you're eight then." and dropped it because by then we had learned about our daughter than she had good instincts.
In the meantime, we continued to take her to the pool every chance we could and she loved to play and splash and have a great time in the water - just no actual swimming or diving or even jumping off the sides of the pool. But wouldn't you know it, sure enough, when she was eight she said, "I'm ready to learn how to swim now." And she did. In fact, she learned how to swim so well that now she's on the swim team for her school and also part of a local swim league. It's her one and only athletic interest - and people - she's good at it! She's found a purpose for those long limbs and she feels free in the water. Free from all of that lack of coordination that she still has to contend with on land.
When she arrived here on Saturday the first thing she did was give me a long hug and then she proceeded with asking repeatedly when we could go down to the beach. (What a relief that she went for the hug first!) We went down there and she had a blast. She was so free and happy and funny - playing in her favorite playground in the world. She spent many hours body surfing on her boogie-board and happily getting her butt kicked by the waves.
Her love of water isn't just about swimming though. She decided years ago that she wants to be a marine biologist or oceanographer and it has stuck. At first, we thought it was probably just a passing fancy - one of many on the topic of her career choices, we thought. We were wrong. She is already looking into colleges that offer that type of program and she's only 12. Granted, we know that it may change for her after all, but that doesn't appear to be happening anytime soon. She knows about shells and marine life and currents and the relationship between the tides and the sky and lighthouses and boats and fish and...on and on....She desperately wants to learn to scuba dive and how to sail and wants to live by the ocean someday.....
She's come full circle - from fear to love - and I feel so privileged to be able to watch her make these mental, emotional and physical journeys. I hope that she continues to make the same journey about the many other things that will come up in her life that seem scary to her at first. That she won't live in fear, but in courage. I've tried to teach her that it's not brave if you're not scared and she has shown me bravery many times about many things in her short life so far. I'm lucky and blessed to be her mom.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Day Fourteen - I Got Nothing
Nothing new that is. Today is no different than many of my other days here so far and it was great! I got up, took a walk on the beach, took a shower, worked on some new card designs, watched a movie, went to the beach and sat a while, read my book, cleaned the place up a bit, sat on the balcony and stared at the ocean, watched the neighbors, ate dinner and now I'm just hanging out reading and watching some TV. New experiences are nice but there's something to be said for a daily routine - especially when it includes several visits to the beach and doing so many of the other things that I love. Aaaaaaahhhhhh...deep sigh of contentment...
And my Emma-girl comes tomorrow! I cannot wait to see her.
And my Emma-girl comes tomorrow! I cannot wait to see her.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Day Thirteen - The Many Moods of the Sea and Me
A huge thunderstorm just passed through and it was FAN-FREAKING-TASTIC!!! I was hoping for one good storm while I was here and I just got it. I've spent the last few hours watching it come and go. I bopped down to the beach earlier this afternoon and it was perfectly sunny and beautiful. Within an hour things were a-changin'. I looked out to the sea and it was cloudy but still lovely...
Then I turned 180 degrees looking back towards the condo complex and I saw this...
And this is what ensued...
Keep in mind that this was 4:15 in the afternoon....
The anger started to pass...
And this is what it looks like now - close to recovery...
It was amazing!. It's all so very Nights in Rodanthe. The beach. The storm. The angst. The inner turmoil....too bad I'm not as hot as Diane Lane and that no Richard Gere-esque guy has shown up! All I've had is Weird Sitting Guy and the contractors across the courtyard that like to strike up conversations with me every time I pass by.
I don't consider myself a particularly angry person - or explosive or even moody - but I could really relate to the ebb and flow of emotion in the storm. How it builds slowly, explodes and then brings itself back to the range of neutral. How normal it is in the course of life and that it's okay. It's important for me to remember that because my instincts are always to squash any perceived "negative" emotions or reactions and always be "okay" in front of everybody. I'm not always okay. In fact, I probably haven't been okay in a very long time. But I'm finding my way and that feels good.
On to other news...
Weird Sitting Guy left last weekend for good it seems. With all of his weird sitting I was beginning to think that maybe he lives here. Who goes to the ocean for a week and sits on the end of their bed for hours on end? He never once went out on his balcony and looked at the ocean. Not once. I tried to take a picture of him just sitting, on what turned out to be his last night here, but my camera sucks so it's not clear at all. It just looks like a lit up condo amongst the darkened ones, but he's there...sitting...
Emma update: She is now nearly fully-recovered. Still some congestion and she is easily fatigued but back in school full-swing and heading down here on Saturday!! I'm SO excited to see her and hug her and go to the beach with her and just love on her.
I've continued the pursuit of my old creative self while I've been here. I've known for a long time now that I am very stuck - blocked - and I just thought I was a terribly lazy loser. It was terrifying to me to put myself out there and just start creating - just frickin', cotton-pickin', stop whining, get off my ass, GET MY SHIT TOGETHER, just DO it already - start creating!!! Dammit.
Well, I finished six cards today and they turned out kinda cute. I'm not brave enough to post pics of my stuff yet but I sure did have fun making them. It felt so great to get past that first hurdle and now I have all sorts of ideas of other things I want to try. It's so much fun and I feel so happy and proud of myself.
There was a quote in my reading today that really helped me a lot: "Do not call the inability to start, 'laziness'. Call it fear."
Once I could identify it that way I felt instantly empowered. For some reason right now, I find it easier to stand up to simple fear rather than to the idea that I am, at my core, essentially a lazy person and therefore a bit hopeless. I can stand up to fear - I've been doing it for a long time now and in the past couple of years I've gotten better and better at it. I will get braver as I go I hope. There's still a lot of me to discover and I'm beginning to enjoy the journey.
Day Twelve - What the...?!
I was at the dollar store yesterday, which I realize seems a rather mundane thing to do when you're away on an adventure at the beach for a month, but this condo doesn't have any cooking untensils or plastic food containers or foil. (Who doesn't have foil?)
Anyway, as I approached the check-out line, the manager was standing there telling us that the cashier would be right back (he had to go get change or something). As she was talking she proceeded to open up the refrigerated bottled drink cooler by the register, twist the cap off a Dr. Pepper, take a few swigs and then PUT IT BACK IN THE COOLER. In the front of the bottle lineup. Where a customer can come along and unwittingly pull it from the display, pay for it and then drink from it! She did it so casually that the other customers didn't seem to take notice. And I, like an idiot, just stood there staring at her with my mouth hanging wide open. She seemed unfazed and looked at me with this expression on her face that said, Hey, waddya want for a dollar?
Anyway, as I approached the check-out line, the manager was standing there telling us that the cashier would be right back (he had to go get change or something). As she was talking she proceeded to open up the refrigerated bottled drink cooler by the register, twist the cap off a Dr. Pepper, take a few swigs and then PUT IT BACK IN THE COOLER. In the front of the bottle lineup. Where a customer can come along and unwittingly pull it from the display, pay for it and then drink from it! She did it so casually that the other customers didn't seem to take notice. And I, like an idiot, just stood there staring at her with my mouth hanging wide open. She seemed unfazed and looked at me with this expression on her face that said, Hey, waddya want for a dollar?
Monday, October 6, 2008
Day Eleven - A Huge Bottle of Pepto Needed
The view from this condo is great but the interior decor leaves something to be desired. It's like the ocean threw up on it or something. The owner purchased the condo in 1994 and you can tell that since then, every time she sees anything that has anything to do with the ocean she buys it "for the condo." And that every time that any of her friends see anything ocean related they buy it for her, you know, "for the condo." There are a lot of seashells and lighthouses, and palm trees and fishes and on and on and ON.
The living room - my gosh, the living room!! Netting and lighthouses and ship wheels...
Curtain valences with sailboats and lighthouses...
Starfish and anchors and shells and more lighthouses - check out the lamps!
And last but not least, the ceiling fan. Look closely and you can see shells on the blades, the globes and the base.
It's all just too much! Why not, at the very least, some coordinating striped curtains or even a solid color? Some normal decorative lamps? A few less seashells? It's like when you go to Disney World and after you've been there for a few days, it seems perfectly normal to walk around with Mickey ears on your head and a Goofy t-shirt on your back. It just makes so much sense. But, then you get home and you suddenly realize that you must've lost your mind there for a few days and you put your ears away and wear your regular clothes again.
The hibiscus bedroom complete with Adirondack lamp and surfboard wall hanging...
The master bedroom with shell wallpaper border and obligatory ocean painting...
The fish bedroom....
The master bedroom with shell wallpaper border and obligatory ocean painting...
And palm tree bedding set...
Fish wall clock in the kitchen...
As well as lighthouse wallpaper border and lighthouse statues in the kitchen...
With whale tail knobs for the cabinets...
The living room - my gosh, the living room!! Netting and lighthouses and ship wheels...
Curtain valences with sailboats and lighthouses...
Starfish and anchors and shells and more lighthouses - check out the lamps!
And last but not least, the ceiling fan. Look closely and you can see shells on the blades, the globes and the base.
It's all just too much! Why not, at the very least, some coordinating striped curtains or even a solid color? Some normal decorative lamps? A few less seashells? It's like when you go to Disney World and after you've been there for a few days, it seems perfectly normal to walk around with Mickey ears on your head and a Goofy t-shirt on your back. It just makes so much sense. But, then you get home and you suddenly realize that you must've lost your mind there for a few days and you put your ears away and wear your regular clothes again.
Speaking of ocean indigestion, check out what the ocean belched up last night...
This beach was perfectly clear last night and this morning there was this wide swath of seaweed as far as the eye could see. It's so strange. And kinda gross. I wonder what it means and why it happened - was there a storm far out and it stirred up this mess? Will the ocean take it back out or will it just sit there until whoever takes care of the local beaches cleans it up? However it's done, I hope it happens soon.
Day Ten - Adventures on the Beach
Internet is back up! The shaking hands and foaming at the mouth has stopped now that I have my internet connection back. It's extraordinary how much I rely on this relationship I have with the world via the World! Wide! Web! I know I should be concerned about it and worry about it being pathetic or something, but I'm not at all. I love the internet. And I love television too - I even have one in my BEDROOM - gasp! I see no problem with it and remain unapologetic.
I wasn't feeling very well today and it was a bit overcast and blustery so I just watched the ocean from my balcony this morning instead of going for my usual walk...
But later in the afternoon I was feeling better so I thought I'd just go down there and stare at the waves for a while. When I got down there I had a treat waiting - a rainbow! Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera (stupid) but it sure was beautiful. The last time I saw a rainbow was when I was preggers, two weeks overdue and getting discouraged. My sister, brother and I were playing the waiting game and we happened to look out the window from my apartment and there it was. For some reason, it gave me hope and reassurance then. It did the same for me today.
After I stared at the rainbow for a while, I decided to walk a ways and came upon this odd sight...
It's the rubber insole from a boot and it must have been floating around the ocean for a while now because there are about two dozen little clams stuck to it and they're alive. I put it in a bowl of ocean water to show Emma when she gets here this weekend. I can't help but wonder who this boot belonged to though. I wonder if there's some interesting story to it or if it's just a careless tourist that dropped a shoe overboard while on a fishing excursion.
After my walk I decided to take a drive on the beach and found this...
A dead armadillo! Who knew they had them in Florida?! It was so strange.
Then I drove along a little further and saw this poor fella. I was so stunned because I had been to this part of the beach a couple of days ago and he wasn't there then so this must be a very recent death. It looks like his shell is cracked on top so I wonder if he got hit by a propeller blade or something. Poor thing. Looks like he lived a long life though and I hope he didn't suffer.
A little farther still...
A huge bamboo log and it was covered with dozens of the same kind of little clams I found on the boot insole. It was amazing to watch them up close....
I wasn't feeling very well today and it was a bit overcast and blustery so I just watched the ocean from my balcony this morning instead of going for my usual walk...
But later in the afternoon I was feeling better so I thought I'd just go down there and stare at the waves for a while. When I got down there I had a treat waiting - a rainbow! Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera (stupid) but it sure was beautiful. The last time I saw a rainbow was when I was preggers, two weeks overdue and getting discouraged. My sister, brother and I were playing the waiting game and we happened to look out the window from my apartment and there it was. For some reason, it gave me hope and reassurance then. It did the same for me today.
After I stared at the rainbow for a while, I decided to walk a ways and came upon this odd sight...
It's the rubber insole from a boot and it must have been floating around the ocean for a while now because there are about two dozen little clams stuck to it and they're alive. I put it in a bowl of ocean water to show Emma when she gets here this weekend. I can't help but wonder who this boot belonged to though. I wonder if there's some interesting story to it or if it's just a careless tourist that dropped a shoe overboard while on a fishing excursion.
After my walk I decided to take a drive on the beach and found this...
A dead armadillo! Who knew they had them in Florida?! It was so strange.
Then I drove along a little further and saw this poor fella. I was so stunned because I had been to this part of the beach a couple of days ago and he wasn't there then so this must be a very recent death. It looks like his shell is cracked on top so I wonder if he got hit by a propeller blade or something. Poor thing. Looks like he lived a long life though and I hope he didn't suffer.
A little farther still...
A huge bamboo log and it was covered with dozens of the same kind of little clams I found on the boot insole. It was amazing to watch them up close....
Okay, enough of Back To Nature With Rachel. Life and death though...it's amazing to witness it up close. What a fantastic gift to be here.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Days Seven, Eight and Nine - Internet Down
I'm not happy. The internet is not working where I'm staying and I'm going through serious DT's. It will hopefully get resolved in the next day or so.
Emma update: She is doing much better and will be returning to school tomorrow (finally). She still gets easily fatigued but the fever and vomiting are gone. Woo hoo!
Emma update: She is doing much better and will be returning to school tomorrow (finally). She still gets easily fatigued but the fever and vomiting are gone. Woo hoo!
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Day Six - The Nicest Psychiatric Hospital I've Ever Seen
I'm starting to get the feeling that the complex I'm staying at is where they send all of the loony Floridians. It seems to be the Bellevue of North Florida. Why, you ask? Well, there is, of course, Weird Sitting Guy. He was at it again last night. Just sitting there hour after hour. Doesn't his back hurt after a while? I was telling my sister about it and she said it sounds like an Edward Hopper painting...
Then, as I went to the beach for my walk this morning I saw an older lady taking a power walk along the waterline. You know the kind of old lady power walker I'm talking about - elbows bent, color-coordinated visor on, intense expression, brisk pace. Suddenly she just stopped in her tracks and started doing this bizarre dance. It looked like a version of the twist but she was doing it while she simultaneously went in backwards circles. So strange. It's like she suddenly had a mental breakdown right there on the beach. I watched her as much as I could without being too obvious for about five minutes and then proceeded with my walk. When I looked back a minute later to see what she was doing, sure enough, she was headed for the boardwalk leading to our complex. Crap! I thought. Another loon in such close proximity! I mean, I kinda admired how uninhibited she was, but for heaven's sake, save it for the dance floor.
Then, this afternoon, I was tackling the photograph project and making good headway when I heard this loud buzzing going on nearby. I thought that maybe it was just the contractors working on a condo across the courtyard but it seemed too loud for that. I looked out the window and the old man in the unit right next door to mine was vacuuming. His balcony. He was vacuuming his balcony. Concrete. He was vacuuming concrete. He vacuumed his concrete balcony for an hour. A whole hour.
I mean really. It's all so very Bellevue by the Sea.
And this is me...
Then, as I went to the beach for my walk this morning I saw an older lady taking a power walk along the waterline. You know the kind of old lady power walker I'm talking about - elbows bent, color-coordinated visor on, intense expression, brisk pace. Suddenly she just stopped in her tracks and started doing this bizarre dance. It looked like a version of the twist but she was doing it while she simultaneously went in backwards circles. So strange. It's like she suddenly had a mental breakdown right there on the beach. I watched her as much as I could without being too obvious for about five minutes and then proceeded with my walk. When I looked back a minute later to see what she was doing, sure enough, she was headed for the boardwalk leading to our complex. Crap! I thought. Another loon in such close proximity! I mean, I kinda admired how uninhibited she was, but for heaven's sake, save it for the dance floor.
Then, this afternoon, I was tackling the photograph project and making good headway when I heard this loud buzzing going on nearby. I thought that maybe it was just the contractors working on a condo across the courtyard but it seemed too loud for that. I looked out the window and the old man in the unit right next door to mine was vacuuming. His balcony. He was vacuuming his balcony. Concrete. He was vacuuming concrete. He vacuumed his concrete balcony for an hour. A whole hour.
I mean really. It's all so very Bellevue by the Sea.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)