Category: Good

Happy Thanksgiving

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Happy Thanksgiving!This will be short and sweet because I’m supposed to be mashing sweet potatoes right now. My father-in-law’s special request.

This is the time to be thankful for everything you have in your life and this is my list:

  • I am thankful for my husband. Kisa is truly my Knight In Shining Armor
  • I am thankful for my health.
  • I am thankful for my family (but miss them terribly).
  • I am thankful for my job as stressful as it is right now. I truly have my dream job, right dad?
  • I am thankful for my friends. I think I surround myself with the best of the best.
  • I am thankful for the music that sustains me.
  • I am thankful for my angels. You know who you are.

So, give thanks for everything you have in your life. In this past week I have learned that life is hard. Life can be a tragedy. The trick is to stay strong. Lean on the people who love you. Love the life you live and live it like it’s your last because you never know.

Song Saying

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Dear you,

BubbleGumI like crazy coincidences. I like it when something in my life matches something completely unexpected. BubbleGum has come through for me. He has a new song on his site (blog side) that matches exactly what I want to say. It’s the perfect song to pass onto certain people in my life. I have been struggling for words for weeks. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I have spewed thousands of words while struggling for common sense. I’ve had more than plenty of words to say. Maybe, just maybe, too many to say. They just haven’t made sense. It was like I was speaking a foreign language, but it felt like I wasn’t being heard at all. I have been feeling talked out and tired from trying to explain too much. I am getting more and more stubborn and stupid. I want to just shut up; to stop talking totally. I practically pleaded for silence. It didn’t come. It won’t come. There is a difference between “silent treatment” and “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Silent to avoid lashing out, being virulent. Silent to avoid saying something stupid, something I don’t mean.
This weekend it was decided more needs to be said, only not by me. This time I’ll do more auscultation than saying. This time I’ll be on the hearing end, hopefully. So, as BG says on his site, “say what you need to say.”

www.johnmayer.com/blog

Love, me

Telling Stories

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New haircut. New song. New attitude.

Setlist:
On Your Way Down – with the funny story about listening to it on the plane. I love the last line of this song because when it comes to matters of the heart, you do need to keep both feet on the ground.

Breathe – This was the very first song I ever heard Rebecca sing and it still takes my breath away (pun not intended). The lyrics are amazing.

Better Day – I was waiting for kisa to kick me under the table. This has become an anthem of sorts for me lately. I wanted to cry. Loved the Etta James – glad Rebecca went for it. It works.

Tell Kyle – Such a great song. There are a thousand and one emotions running through every note, every lyric. Question is, what would Kyle say back?

Cry River/Reason Why – This is the new song I didn’t know. When I asked RC the name she gave me both. Both fit the song. It’s amazing.

Yours – at the piano. Rebecca kept it low key and simplier. I almost think I like it better that way…but then again, maybe it was my mood. I had just tried to douse my fries with olive oil and my pulled pork looked like dog food in the dark. I should have had the Wicked Wally instead!

It’s always hard to listen to someone else after Rebecca has been on stage. I am not shy in saying I have a real prejudice. The main act just wasn’t my thing. She had a lovely voice but lyrically, she didn’t catch me. I did enjoy the math song, though! I’ll Let It Be and say nothing more.
I wanted to thank KD for coming out. Such a great surprise to see her and her StrongSilentType (practically her husband)! I’ll have to tease her when we get back to work on Monday! Thank you S&G for making the trip out. The after-gig was fun, too. Maybe next time Rebecca will bring Aaron and John….if she recognizes them!

Crazy Am I

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closer

                                                                                                                                                                             
So, kisa convinced me to enter this contest for a Closer House Party. Free swag, party favors and a special Closer dvd for me and my friends….How could I not try? Seriously! So, I tried and became a semi-finalist. How bizarre. I don’t win at anything and there I was, on the verge. Ooh…on the verge…bad choice of words…I was this close!
Anyway, so I was asked to prove that I knew 10 people. 10 people I could invite to the party. They didn’t say 10 people who would make it. Just 10 people to invite. Now, I’m feeling slightly idiotic and embarrassed. and Crazy.
Yes, this is my all-time favorite show. I couldn’t explain it to you if I tried. Maybe I see myself in Brenda’s barely kept together life. Maybe her crazy ways mirror my messed up character. I don’t know. But, there it is.
So, back to the contest. I gave them 10 names, 10 addresses and they told me I won. Wooohoo, I won! It’s more like Woops I won. What have I done? I don’t host parties. My sister’s flop of a bridal shower, my wedding and my mother’s surprise. Those are all the parties I have hosted. Yikes.
Yet. Yet, I am getting excited! I have no idea what “swag” I’ll be getting but I know I’m making munchies like meatballs, marinated chicken skewers, brownies…Belisa, I’ve invited your mother and she said yes! J&S will be there, maybe S&G and AS?
Like I said, crazy am I! Can’t wait!

Dump

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Old stuffed animals, dog-eared books, ugly clothes, ill-fitting shoes, broken clocks, cracked wine glasses, faded photos, ancient journals, moldy pillows, unfashionable scrunchies, crusty paint cans, tangled wedding decorations, 80’s cassettes, warped bed frames, paint-peeled doors, cantankerous poster frames, clunker phones, ripped wrapping paper, lost-love letters, dark forever floor lamps, wax coated candle holders, tacky knickknack things, mismatched earrings, unflattering sweaters, I could go on and on.

Kisa and I worked in the basement for the entire day. Stripping away six years of collected junk. Hauling it up the stairs, throwing it on the lawn. Opening unmarked boxes, relabeling bins, finding old treasures. For every one thing thrown away another thing was carefully repacked. Everything in its place, either out the door or saved for another time.

It felt much like cleaning out the heart. I have held on to things for too long, much too tightly. My grip killed the reasons for keeping. I’m glad I let go.

This Voice

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People look at me funny when I say I’m not seeing Natalie this Friday. No Natalie? It doesn’t add up. You should see the looks I get! Consider the facts: my favorite “pop” star, playing a benefit, in my state. Normally, this would be a no-brainer. Nothing to consider. Nothing to debate. Except… Rebecca will be in town. Same night, different place.
So, consider the new facts: my favorite unsigned voice (soon to be famous, though), my friend, playing not only in my state but my town.

If I were playing a RockPaperScissors game there would be no competition whatsoever. Rebecca would be the Rock that smashes the Scissors, the Paper that covers the Rock, the Scissors that cuts the paper. Friends win out over celebrity every time. No contest. Speaking of friends, I’ll see you there! I’ll save you a seat.

I May Know

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There are those commercials that talk about depression. You know, the ones that describe days when you don’t want to do anything? You don’t feel like eating, there’s nothing good on television, no one you want to talk to (text maybe), no desires except maybe to sleep for days on end. I wondered aloud to my husband if maybe, just maybe, that was my problem. Maybe I was depressed. Or maybe just indifferent to my here and now. If I had to chose I would prefer indifference.
I have decided to let go of previous struggles. They just aren’t important anymore. Like hanging on to something under water. It grows heavier and heavier until finally I lose my grip. But. But, letting go is such sweet sorrow! The burden slowly sinks away, growing further and further out of reach. Couldn’t change my mind if I wanted to. Opportunity lost without caring. I think of Natalie’s “I May Know The Word” and how it is a song of indifference. She may know the word but not say it. I’m like that, turning my head, oblivious to what was once important to me. What was once sacred no longer sustains me. Does this scare me? A little.
I’m not heartbroken to let something in me die. Maybe it was beyond saving all along? Maybe it was so dysfunctional that dying is such sweet relief? When I told my husband I thought something in me just shriveled up and died, guess what he did. He smiled. Not caring is the equivalent of not hurting and that is a good thing.

All’s Fair

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I’m currently reading A Diary From Dixie and the narrator, Mrs. Mary Chestnut is a pretty funny lady. My standard way to “review” a book is to give a brief overview of the general plot, what I thought while I was reading it, some quotes that I found to my liking (for one reason or another) and finally, where in it belonged in the Book Lust Challenge. For A Diary from Dixie I have way too many quotes I will want to use. Really, what has been happening is Mrs. Chestnut’s comments are causing me to think about my life and how the quotes relate.  Two such quotes deserved their own blog.

“Only your own family, those nearest and dearest, can hurt you.” and, “They tell you all of your faults candidly because they love you so” (p 128).

There is a lot of truth tied to those two statements. Never mind that they were written in August 1861. Never mind that this country was at war with itself at the time. Mrs. Chestnut made comments about something so commonplace, so true, that it could have been written yesterday…by me.
What is it about hurting the ones you love? Where do you draw the line? You’ve heard it before – This Is For Your Own Good…This Hurts Me More Than It Hurts You…I Did It Because I Love You…She’s Family (she won’t mind)…
It’s been almost a month since I first felt the sting of “my own good.” I haven’t had the forgiveness to really say much about it until now. I sat and stewed in my own juices for all this time. Friends, kisa, and even my own mother, have jumped in the soup and offered words of advice. I’m grateful for every kind word uttered. I’m thankful they (at least) aren’t telling me how to feel. They know that’s worse than giving me a hundred flat tires. Right, Scott? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: when in doubt, ASK. When it doesn’t concern you, stay out. If you think it concerns you, converse with me, convince me. I’ll listen. It doesn’t matter what “right” you think you have, family or not, blood or water, I will listen.

Slipping Up Slowly

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I wish I could read and run at the same time. When I read I feel guilty that I’m not running. And when I’m running….who am I kidding? I haven’t been running! There’s no guilt there! I just want to be reading more than running. Period. Such a sad state of affairs.
I think I’m slipping up slowly. A few weeks ago I posted a review without my favorite quotes. I had to go back and add them in today. What was I thinking? After adding them I then had to double back to LibraryThing to make sure I had linked the review (I had). Phew.
In the meantime I’m supposed to be working with a personal trainer. I won’t even get into it because it’s just fodder for laughter at this time. I can’t even take myself seriously. Yet, I plan to blog about it because I’m a glutton for punishment (and ridicule).
I let three birthdays go by this week without acknowledgment. Not that I did it on purpose. Time got away from me and it was late before I knew it. Late is par for the course. I hope they understand. Like I said, slipping up slowly.

This Old Post 11/8/05 10:13am

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Remember When?

My childhood has crept up on me. Daily, I think about my younger days. A psychic once told me that to ponder my past meant an imponderable future…an impending death. Interesting. I just think it means I’ve been reminded of when I was a kid so it’s been on my mind more than a lot lately.
My husband and I watched a program about the strangest creatures to roam the eather (BTW: the male angler was number one because he attaches himself to the female and becomes part of her body; an odd appendage of sorts). Anyway, horseshoe crabs made the list. I forgot where on the list they ranked. They are not crabs at all, but rather relatives of the spider with 12 legs and ten eyes. I used to find horseshoe crabs stranded on the beaches of Quogue. Thanksgiving. Visiting my wealthy grandmother on Long Island. I remember a picture of me bravely holding up the tail of a beached and decided dead one. I wore a Dorothy Hamill haircut and a big cheesy grin. I was fascinated with the creatures.
S and I went to dinner tonight and I saw the dreaded whoopie pie. I’ve sworn off them, by the way! I still say my mother’s whopper of a whoopie is still my ultimate favorite. Standing at least 4″ high and easily a hefty pound I won’t be able to resist. I long to stand at her side, frosting spoon in hand.
This weekend I skimmed through the books I bought my nephew. The Lorax, Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel, The Five Chinese Brothers, Blueberries for Sal, Goodnight Moon, Tiki Tiki Tembo, Ferdinand the Bull…all the stories from when I was a kid. I still read them as an adult. I have Shel Silverstein poems solid like cement in my head….memorized for life. “I cannot go to school today said little Peggy Anne McKay…”, “The crocodile went to the dentist and he sat down in the chair…”, “Enter this deserted house, but walk softly if you do…”
I have no idea why we attach ourselves to the childhood things and think they are the greatest. Batman, Lincoln Logs, Nancy Drew. Flour, salt and water. 64 colors and the built-in sharpener. I still love the smell of grape bazooka bumble gum and drinking Sprite through a Twizzler is still one of the coolest things to do.

Is It Any Wonder?

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We’ve started to talk about Thanksgiving. They talk. I listen. I find this time of year tiresome. Who goes where and for how long? Can we split up the time? Can we avoid the time? What is the time? My mother-in-law is stressing about keeping the kid. Defiantly announcing, “I get the kid.” Okay. Definitely. Two years ago I brought up having a “schedule,” some sort of flow chart to keep our obligations straight. Somehow it became a discussion about something else entirely.
We have never had a holiday, just the two of us. I’ve never cooked a twelve part meal with only him in mind. Turkey, (garlic) mashed potatoes, cajun sweet potatoes (with pecans), that green bean casserole, cranberry sauce (homemade), creamy pearl onions, stuffing (two kinds), honey wheat rolls, the gravy I don’t touch, three kinds of pies… There’s always been someone else. Or a few someone elses. Not that I don’t mind family. I just miss him.

It’s insane how much we try to divvy up family time. Time with his family – both sides- time with mine. What about the other in-laws? Where’s their time? Everyone wants a piece. Who gets the turn this year? Well, where were we last year? We’ve never hosted Christmas, nor have we started our own (private) traditions because we haven’t been here. My kitchen remains cold because we’re always cooking somewhere else. I’m about ready to sell my serving ware.
This year I may not even bother with the ornaments, the decorations, or even the tree since we won’t be here…again. I was in such the spirit last year that I put everything up….only to have it sit silent while we went somewhere else.

Here’s my wish for the holidays. I want my home away from home to be so warm that I feel like I’m where the heart is and I’m happy to be there. Regardless of where that is.
 

Cleaning Out

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Sometimes I get beyond frustrated with my way too much stuff. I have one of those lives where even the paperclips have a home, yet you wouldn’t know it with all the junk I have around. Junk junk junk. It feels excessive, stupid and indulgent to have so much. Kisa and I have two full sets of dishes. One from my life without him (from 1990), and one from our humble beginning together. Do we really need 20 mugs for a two person household? I don’t think so.

So today….today kisa and I are cleaning. The in-laws announced the arrival of a huge dumpster and a whole week to fill it. I hear it’s the walk-in kind. How cool is that. I can imagine it like a gaping mouth that will accept only garbage, trash and unwanted junk. I can’t wait to feed it. Cookbooks without a single diary entry…mattresses tired of waiting for guests…posters from high school…stuffed animals from old boyfriends…lying letters…anything related to broken promises or unfulfilled good intentions. I hope it’s really, really hungry.

I want a lighter life. I want to be stark like the mountain range, not cluttered with clusters of trees and debris. I want more of a mis en place existence. I can’t explain it more than that.
Stay tuned.

Limbo

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My favorite time of day isn’t really when the sun is shining. Driving home the other night I tried to capture the light in my mind- pin it down to describe it. It’s that time of day when it’s light enough to see the shape of clouds in the sky, but dark enough that streetlights start to flicker on. Dusk. Twilight. The time when, looking at the horizon, you see the fading color of the sun: the color of old bruised skin yellow. Straight up above, the darkened sky of almost black. A dark so dark that strong, bright stars twinkle bravely. Firstcomers to the party. It’s like seeing night and day at the same time and time itself is caught in limbo between. There is a magic to that space-between light. I see things with clarity in that light. I am happy to be alive in that light. I can’t explain it anymore than that.

Happiness Is…Me

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Somewhere in the back of my mind I seem to recall a book. Something in my childhood that I held dear. I’m thinking it had to have been written by Charles Schultz because I distinctly remember Snoopy and the gang. It was called “Happiness Is…” and within its pages were pictures and proclamations of what made someone happy. “Happiness is…a warm blanket” with a picture of Linus or something like that. I’m guessing. It’s a murky memory at best.
Throughout the years I have played the “Happiness Is…” game, filling in the blanks whenever something made me happy. Happiness is…whoopie pies fresh from Moody’s Diner. Happiness is…my husband massaging my feet. Happiness is…finding a great pair of shoes…chai tea…nanook slippers…You get the point.
Lately, I’ve been playing the game a lot. Happiness is talking to a friend for four hours and not noticing a single second. Happiness is hearing from Ohio and talking about the talkative. Happiness is two pumpkins, one smiling, one frowning, on my doorstep. Happiness is Halloween and everything it brings. But, most of all…last but nowhere near least, happiness is…acceptance when you least expect it.
I talked to my mother on Halloween night for two hours, 20 minutes and 19 seconds. While I struggled with hurt, she helped. While I struggled with disappointment, she didn’t try to tell me differently. She let me feel everything I needed to and thensome. I’m not saying things are perfect. Things rarely are. But. But, I’m on the road to good and that makes me happy.

Coming Home

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Dear kisa,

You are stranded on a plane somewhere in PA. Engine trouble…something about a starter. I didn’t worry about failure during flying, but more about how tired you’ll be when you finally touch down for sleep. I know how much you hate to be tired.
I had a break through at work today. My BigBossMan reminded me I’m Miss Mucky Muck. If I don’t like something I can make it change…or go away. Imagine that! I’m been counting to ten when all I need to know is three strikes you’re out. Load off my mind and onto my plate.
We’re out of milk. My chai tasted like dirt. The kitchen has been cold without you to cook for. I’m glad you’re coming back tomorrow. Wish it was tonight. I’ll try to kiss you more than the Chipotle.
Anyway, I am ready for bed. Ready to get a new Serious. Speaking of the orange orb, I heard something funny the other day, “That closed sign means nothing to me. That rope across the driveway isn’t going to keep me out.” I had to laugh. Isn’t that how you get your pumpkins? Boys will be boys.

Kisa, I’m tired of negotiating with the cat for bed space. She’s a hog in disguise! Come home soon.
love,
me