%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  My Blog....Pearls of wisdom and/or foolish mutterings.....You be the judge.... |
|
A little of this, a dash of that......epic mood swings.......A LOT of foolish mutterings and occasionally a few words of wisdom. It's a crapshoot. You never know what you'll find in here... |
| I just got home tonight from my trip to Florida to visit my dad and step-mom. It was an exhausting and emotional trip and I'm glad to be home, but more than that I am so glad that I made the trip now. My step-mom, Kathy, had good days and bad days. On the good days, it was almost possible to believe that the doctors are mistaken and that things are really not as serious as they've led us to believe. On the good days, she is her usual feisty self, with a killer sense of humor and a will of iron. She is clear and lucid and wonderfully "Kathy." But she has bad days, too. That is what the doctor said to expect. Good and bad days. The bad days are sobering. Those days have us almost holding our breath, wondering how she could have gotten so ill in the space of a few hours. She sleeps most of the day on the bad days and when she wakes for brief periods of time, her speech is slurred, she seems to be in a thick fog and confusion grips her mind. It's a difficult thing to understand - how her body and mind seem to jump from one state of being to another with no rhyme or reason. Today, before I left for the airport, she was awake; sitting up in her wheelchair, her mind clear and her spirits up. When I spoke with my dad tonight, he said she had a great day today, that she was energetic all day and felt strong today. A far cry from yesterday, when she could barely function, slept most of the day and the fog seemed to envelope her. I was worried when I made plans to go see Kathy, that I might come apart at the seams; having just recently come to terms with my mother's death three years ago, I guess I feared that I might just implode or something at the sight of Kathy so ill. But that didn't happen. Yes, I was reminded of my own mother and yes, I was all too aware when I left today that this may have been the last time I will see Kathy. Yes, there was pain and sorrow, but more importantly, there was time to just "be there" with Kathy and with my dad. And with my brother, Keith, too. It was a time when each of us allowed ourselves the luxury of being vulnerable to each other in a way we never have before. Even my sister, Kris, came for a visit while I was there. She guards her heart so carefully that it's hard to get past the wall she surrounds herself with. But for a few precious moments, even Kris was open. The hospice chaplain who came by one day while I was there, called what we were doing "anticipatory grieving." We all had a chance to do that together and I believe that somehow, we all gained strength from it. I wouldn't have missed that for the world. I got the chance to show Kathy how important she is to me and I'm grateful for that. I got to witness many tender exchanges between my dad and Kathy and I'll have those memories with me forever. The bonds between my family and me were strengthened this week. Instead of leaving there feeling weakened and despairing, I came home stronger than I was a week ago. And I remembered a very important truth - that is what families do for each other. They strengthen each other when the going gets tough. |
| Yesterday, I boarded a plane to fly to Florida to visit my dad and step-mom and the rest of the family out here. My step-mom is sick - really sick. Seven years ago, she fought a battle with cancer and won. She's a fighter and she faced it down. For seven years, she was cancer-free. Then it came back with a vengeance. The doctors say she has only a few months left, three at most. I'm sad and I want to rail at the injustice of it. But I know that it's a part of life - our parents won't live forever. Faithful readers of my blog will remember that I didn't meet my biological dad (and my wonderful step-mom) until I was thirty-years-old. I've had twenty-one years with them, and counting, and it's difficult now to remember a time when they weren't part of my life. I have come to love my step-mom (Kathy) very much and she has been not only a mother to me, but also a very good friend. I'm not ready for this. Not that we ever really can be, I guess. Over the last four years, I've lost too many people who are really important to me. Once again, I am reminded of how fragile life is and how your whole world can change from one moment to the next. I want to rewind the clock. I wish we had do-overs in life. There are a lot of things I would do-over. Spending more time with all of my parents (because I had so many, you know) is one of the things I would change. Unfortunately, that can't happen. So I'll have to settle for learning this latest life lesson. Life is indeed short and extremely fragile. There are no guarantees and it's up to each one of us to make the time we have count for something. |
| There is only one word for my New Year's Eve experience this year. WTF? Okay, I know that's not just one word, but it definitely applies. Hubby and I were invited to a party that was promoted as a (and I'm quoting, here) Wild Ass Shirt Party. Why? I wanted to know, when we received the invitation. What does a wild ass shirt have to do with New Year's Eve? There was no suitable explanation forthcoming, which, in retrospect, should have alerted me that something was amiss here. But, hey, I'm never one to shy away from a challenge and I don't embarrass easily, so I just went with it. Like a good little soldier, I made a trip to the local Value Village and combed through hundreds upon hundreds of second-hand shirts that ranged in classification from plain old boring to horrible and all the way to wretched. But I was feeling adventurous, so I opted to take it to the next level and go all the way to hideous. I even enlisted the help of my youngest daughter, Kristen, because that girl can spot hideous at 100 paces. After a good hour-and-a-half spent sifting through the racks to find two shirts (one for me, one for Hubby) with just the right level of hideousness, I finally made my choice and believe me when I say that it is highly unlikely that any of you have ever seen anything like the two shirts I picked out. I'm sure that Hubby's shirt once belonged to a homeless street person who wore it as long as he could stand it and then stuffed it behind a trash container in downtown Houston when someone took pity on him and gave him another shirt. It came complete with built-in stains that didn't budge at all when I sprayed them with Oxy-Clean stain remover and washed the heck out of it. The stains were pretty much invisible due to the God-awful pattern on the baby-poop shade of yellow background. Yes, it was a certifiably hideous Wild Ass Shirt. My "shirt" was actually more of an "over-shirt" complete with gold lame' piping that ran the length of either side and up around the neck. Every pattern known to man was displayed on that shirt, along with every color on the color-wheel and a few colors that dare not speak their name. The problem with my shirt was that it was the exact degree of hideous that could also pass for extremely bad taste. Decked out in our Hideous-Wear (for which I spent all of $3.80,) we headed for the party which was on the other side of the world from us, or in Houston-speak, an hour-and-a-half away. We giggled at the sight of each other all the way there, sure that if there was a prize to be had for the wildest-ass-shirt, we would win, hands-down. When we finally pulled up to the party, the host greeted us wearing.... wait for it.... shorts and a white T-shirt. Huh? In answer to my complaint about his lack of a W.A.S., he assured me he was about to change into his shirt, he just hadn't had time yet. It is important at this point to set the stage. Of all the people at the party, we knew no one, aside from the host and hostess. Ah, yes - the hostess - who wore a pink LSU T-shirt. Double Huh? Ask me how many people at the party were wearing Wild Ass Shirts. Go ahead, just ask. Exactly TWO, that's how many. Yep, that's right - me and Hubby. Nice. The host did go upstairs and change shirts. He changed into a black T-shirt with a smily face on the front. Pretty wild, huh? Not only was everyone else wearing REGULAR clothes, but it was a very clique-ish group. Hubby said that our shirts just made it easier to identify us as outsiders. I kept thinking, We drove an-hour-and-a-half for this? We stuck it out till midnight, although I'm not sure why, and then made the long drive back home. When we got home, we tossed our outsider shirts into the trash. It was a very strange way to end the year. On the bright side, though, another way of looking at it is this: Ending the year like that, things can only get better from there.  |
| It is a new year, full of promise and expectation. A time to reflect back over the past, a time when memories are stirred. I find myself thinking more and more about my mother. She was a complicated woman, not one who could ever be easily described. She and I had a complicated relationship, which is probably true more often than not of mothers and daughters. I've written about her once again. In death, as in life, my mother baffled us all. If you'd like to read my latest attempt at figuring her out, here is the link:
|
I've been doing a lot of reviewing lately. I really enjoy reviewing. I like reading other people's work and it never fails to stir up my own muse. True to form, that's just what happened this time, too. If any of you get a chance, I'd love for you to check out my latest work. Here's the link and thanks in advance to anyone who reads it:
|
| This time last year, as a family we looked forward to the January release of my brother from prison. He spent Christmas in prison and we spent Christmas without him. It was bittersweet, knowing that the time for him to come home was so near, but not near enough to bring him home to us for Christmas. He did indeed get out of prison in January and we celebrated his homecoming with a great expectancy for a victorious new year. Unfortunately, this year has not been an easy one for him. I can only guess at the emotions that he has dealt with for the past twelve months. It can't be easy to pick up with life again as if nothing happened--knowing that his life and the lives of his family were shattered by greedy men who gave no more thought to sending him to prison for something he was not guilty of than they gave to what they would order for lunch. (If you're not familiar with this story, you can read about it here:
No one could predict the after-effects of what a year in prison would do to Mike or to his family. Naively, we all hoped that he could walk away from it and begin again with minimal negative effects. Mike himself voiced the same intentions we all hoped for. Sadly, it hasn't been that easy. It has been a year of wretched struggle and today was perhaps even more bittersweet than last year. But, I am thankful that this year I was able to spend the day with my brother. I was able to put my arms around him and give him a hug and tell him I love him. I had the opportunity to give him gifts and to talk with him and even to share a smile or two with him. I wish I had the power to heal his wounded spirit and to make things right for him again. But only God can do that for Him and then, only if Mike will allow him to do that. Again I am thankful that the opportunity still exists for that to happen. For the Christmas story of the birth of the Christ child is only the beginning. It doesn't begin and end with the birth of Jesus. Jesus came not only to save us from our sins and reconcile us to the Father; He came to set the captives free and to heal the broken-hearted. He came for you, He came for me and He came for my brother. Because, even though Mike is no longer behind bars, he is still held captive by the things that happened to him, he still has a broken heart in need of healing. I am thankful that the real meaning of Christmas is the story of Jesus - the whole story. A story of hope and a new life and restoration. My family celebrated Christmas together this year and it was a lovely day full of celebration, sharing and love. But our real Christmas will come when Mike is able to experience the rest of the story. On that day, we will all celebrate with him as he embraces the freedom and restoration that God wants to give to him. |
| Turns out there was hope and redemption on the way yesterday when I sat down in total frustration and wrote my Scrooged blog. No sooner had I finished writing it and hit the 'Save Entry' button than it was time to leave for the annual Christmas program at my church. Every year, my church has a Christmas program featuring all of the kids at the church - from the little guys all the way up to the high schoolers. That's all it is - just the kids - and it's wonderful. This year was outstanding. Of course, two of my grandchildren were in the program (the other two were in the audience, still a little too young to participate) and they were adorable - the stars of the show, of course. Yes, I know, I'm a bit biased, but grandparents are allowed that luxury. Wordsmith that I am, I still find that words fail me when I attempt to convey to you the "feeling" that was present in that sanctuary last night. It was joyous and exciting and restorative and victorious and just downright fun - all at once. Every age group, beginning with the pre-schoolers, had their own separate part in the program. They have been feverishly preparing for the program for weeks now and it showed. It was pure joy. Allow me to inject a little disclaimer here. For years and years, I headed up a drama ministry in the church we used to attend. I've never been a fan of children's programs. In all the time that I was directing that ministry, I only did one play featuring children. It actually turned out pretty good, but I was a snob when it came to "church" plays or programs, always determined not to have any of our productions given the dreaded label of "amateurish." **shudder** I've witnessed some horrific amateur productions and I could tell you stories that would have you either laughing your socks off or puking - take your pick. But I won't - not now, anyway. None of them involved children's programs, by the way. Back to last night. As I said, children's programs have never been "my thing." Well, guess what? I couldn't have been more wrong - especially in light of what I witnessed last night. All of those earnest little faces shining with a mixture of excitement and stage fright, every parent and grandparent and aunt and uncle armed with cameras and camcorders, the feeling of community that wrapped around all of us like a cozy blanket; well, it couldn't have been more perfect. My church has a recovery home for drug addicts and alcoholics - two homes, actually, one for men and one for women. Those men and women are in every service, flanking the congregation on either side - the men's home members on the left side, women on the right. The middle section is filled with people whose lives have truly been changed by the love of Christ - the families of the men and women who are living in the recovery homes, former members of the homes, people like me who lived the life of the prodigal and finally came home, people who had lost hope who now have hope once again. These are the people who were in that audience last night rejoicing to see their children up on that stage in all their pure innocence telling the story of the baby Jesus--the real story of Christmas. Every face in that church shone with transformation last night. There could not have been a more drastic contrast from the frustration and hopelessness that enveloped me earlier in the day as I was caught up in the madness of the season. There was peace in that place and I took that peace home with me when I left there. The name of my church is, fittingly, Victory Family. I just want to say, "Thank you Victory Family for reminding me what Christmas is truly about." Merry Christmas, everyone. Today I can say that and mean it. |
| Have you ever heard the old joke about the woman who goes to her doctor because she is concerned with her behavior? She keeps having these angry outbursts and terrible mood swings and has absolutely no patience with anyone or anything. Their conversation goes like this: Woman: Doctor, I'm concerned that I may be suffering from PMS. I scream at my husband, I snarl at strangers in the store when I am shopping and my moods just seem to be all over the place. I get angry over the least little thing and then I just want to take someone's head off. Doctor: Well, that certainly sounds a lot like PMS. Let's do some testing and see what we come up with. So he runs his tests and sends them off to the lab. A short while later, the tests are all in, so the doctor returns to his patient, who is waiting not so patiently in the exam room. Woman: (in a highly agitated state) Well? What took you so long? I've been sitting here forever in this boring little room. I already told you I don't have any patience! Weren't you listening to me at all?! Doctor: (in his calmest, most rational voice) I have your test results here with me and we can look__ Woman: (interrupting him) Get on with it, Doc. I don't have all day! What does it say? Doctor: I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is... you do not have PMS. Woman: That's a relief, but what's the bad news? Doctor: The bad news is... apparently, you're just a bitch. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- So, today while I was out Christmas shopping, fighting the crowds and trying to tune out the sounds of little children screaming their damn heads off while their mothers just ignored them and continued on with their shopping, I morphed into bitch mode. I wanted to smack those screaming kids and tell them "You shut your mouth right now, do you hear me? You are not allowed to act like this." Then I wanted to turn to their moms and just slap the hair right off their heads for letting their children act like that. While trying to maneuver my way down the aisles of various stores past an inordinate amount of ruder-than-hell people, I wanted to shove them with both hands and shout, "Get the hell out of the way, moron. Do you think anyone can get past your rude ass planted right in the middle of the aisle. And get off your phone. No one wants to hear your dumb-ass conversation and you need to pay attention to what you're doing because you're pissing me off!" And, instead of the "if looks could kill" dirty look I gave to the idiot girl in line behind me at the self-service checkout line at WalMart who was beating her hands on the sides of her basket to hurry me along, I wanted to walk back there to her and push her down. But, I did not do or say any of those things because that would be terribly wrong and then I would fit right in with the rest of the doofuses here in Pasa-get-down-dena - White Trash Capital of the World. I think today proved to me that I have reached maximum saturation level. I can't take any more or I'm going to blow. Even as recently as last night, I was able to smile benignly and shake my head in wonder while in Academy Sports when a mom (and I use that term loosely) bellowed at her child at the top of her lungs to "Sit yer self down with yer ole big ass head before you fall outta this basket." Mind you, this child was only about three years old. But today, at WalMart, I walked past a woman and her (probably) three year child who was sitting in the basket crying. This mother (again, I use the term loosely) was holding the child by the shoulders with her angry, contorted face merely inches from the child's face and was telling her, through gritted teeth, "We are not going to do this. You are going to shut your mouth right now or your ass is going to the...." I missed the rest of her diatribe as I kept walking. Because if I had slowed down even a little bit, I would have grabbed the woman by the hair on the back of her head and got in her face to "advise" her on the proper way to talk to a three year old child. Maybe a little soap in mom's mouth would help. I need a drink. |
| With this year drawing to a close, I've found myself reflecting back over the past twelve months. It's been an eventful year, to say the least. Eventful, and for the most part, a happy one. Sure, there has been the occasional low spot, but that's inevitable and only serves to make me more fully appreciate the good times. Compared with where I was this time last year, I'd have to declare 2008 to be a very good year in the grand scheme of things. There have been a number of positive milestones--more than I rightfully deserve, to be sure. I've been blessed. Please bear with me as I indulge in a salute to the better parts of my 2008. January brought me to WDC. What a serendipitous event that has proven to be. I looked up serendipity in the dictionary and I think the definition is fitting. serendipity: the discovery of something fortunate; the accidental discovery of something pleasant, valuable or useful Yep, WDC certainly has been all of those things - pleasant, valuable and useful. Because of WDC, I rediscovered my passion for writing, I have been blogging for almost a year now (and what a ride that has been!) and I have been stretched as a writer. I've learned, I've grown and I've matured as a writer and I credit WDC with all of that. As wonderful as all of those things have been, they can't hold a candle to the real treasure I have found on WDC. That treasure is the wonderful community of dear friends I have found here. My life has been immeasurably enriched by all of you. I won't list each one of you--my list would be very long--but you know who you are. And I love and value each and every one of you. Another tremendous blessing of the past twelve months is the addition of two beautiful grandsons to our family. Baby Ray and his little brother Isaiah have quadrupled the joy of being a "Mimi." Grandchildren are surely God's reward to us for somehow managing to survive the raising of our children. Speaking of children, another milestone of 2008 comes to mind. My eldest son fought and won a battle against his own personal demons emerging not only victorious, but with a determination and drive to succeed that is nothing less than what I've always known he was capable of. I am incredibly proud of you, Eli. My youngest son, Caleb, entered UT/Austin as a Junior, moving to Austin, adjusting to living on his own and ending the semester with straight A's. Congratulations, Caleb! You rock! On a personal note, I found my way back to an abiding faith in God. I had wandered far away for a long time and it feels good to be home. I found my peace again. Summing up, I survived a hurricane, wrote a book, started a fledgling online scrapbook business and... let's see, oh yes, I almost forgot. I went dove hunting for the first (and last) time. I'm not so crazy about shooting birds or anything else, except targets at a gun range. I do like that. Intend to do more of it. Yes, it has been a very good year. I think 2008 is the year I found myself again. I'm looking forward to 2009. Bring it on. If it's even half as good as 2008 - wow! |
| It's the strangest thing lately. I've had absolutely no words of wisdom just dying to spring forth into my blog; and while I always have plenty of foolish mutterings to sling around, I haven't felt compelled to put any of them in a blog. Several times over the last few days, I've had people say to me, "oh you should blog about that." But I'll be darned if I can remember what any of those things were. I need to start paying more attention. Christmas has me all in a dither this year. I can't seem to get organized to get my shopping done and here it is the sixteenth of the month already! I finally managed to get a tree up and the house decorated last weekend. And I have done some shopping, but I still have plenty of shopping to do. Yikes! It seems to me this past year has all been one big blur. Especially by the time we got to the hurricane in September - whoosh! The rest of the year just flew by. Is the world spinning faster or something? Because I could swear it's moving faster than ever. I guess that's a sure sign that I'm getting older. Time never moves fast enough when you're young and it never slows down when you're old. I won't cop to being "old" but I'll go for older. It's not like I have a choice, really. The mirror used to be my best friend, now I avoid it as much as possible. I'm thinking of buying some of those blinder things they put on horses when they run races so that I can wear them when I'm out shopping. I hate catching a glimpse of myself unexpectedly when I'm out shopping. I'm never prepared for what I see. I always find myself thinking, "Holy crap! I'm walking around in public looking like that?" I usually have this intense look of concentration on my face which is never flattering and somehow, I always manage to come upon myself from an unbecoming angle. I think there should be some kind of law about not having hidden mirrors in stores. It's just not right. I never expect to see someone my age when I look in the mirror. Apparently my powers of denial are incredibly strong. Despite having been present for every moment of my 51 years, when I look in the mirror, I never cease to be surprised to see a 51 year old woman staring back at me. I'm looking for someone in the range of 30-35, maybe. I never find her. Dammit. My sister-in-law was at my house tonight and we decided we needed a new picture of the two of us together since the last one is about five years old. My son-in-law was delegated the task of taking the picture and then after we viewed his efforts, we recruited my daughter to try again. Try as we might, we couldn't seem to find an angle that made us look younger and thinner. I think we may need a new camera. Remember that scene from "Friends" years ago, when Monica tells Chandler and Joey as they are watching a video of her to remember that the camera adds 5 pounds? Chandler (or maybe it was Joey, I can't remember) views the video and turns to her and says, "How many cameras were actually on you, Monica?" Yeah, it was funny at the time. Not so much now. I try to comfort myself with the knowledge that, although I may be older, I am certainly wiser. But, you know what? Wise does not show up on a camera, so what the hell good is it? ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** This is me with my beautiful, wonderful sister-in-law, Charla (pay no mind to the date on the pic - the date on the camera was set wrong) But then again, happy shows up on camera, and being young isn't all it's cracked up to be. Growing older definitely has its advantages, among them--really awesome grown children and those beautiful grandchildren. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** My daughter Bree, me,my daughter Kristen, granddaughter Olivia and Charla ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Me with my newest grandson, Isaiah On second thought, bring on the mirrors. I can take it! |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
