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 |  My Blog....Pearls of wisdom and/or foolish mutterings.....You be the judge.... |
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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... |
| You know all those freaky movies they are making now about machines taking over the world? Computers, to be more exact. Well, I think it has happened already and we've just become accustomed to it. I just spent the ENTIRE day locked away upstairs in my office updating computers, installing software, updating virus programs, spyware, updating the updates, waiting and waiting and waiting for this program to download and that program to finish installing, etc., etc., etc. I am ready to pull my hair out!!! As much as computers have opened up a whole new world to us, they have also become very unforgiving and relentless task masters. To prove my point, after spending all day long locked in hand-to-hand combat with three computers, still here I sit typing away on one of the aforementioned machines. Because, to be honest, I have been impatiently waiting all day for the updating and converting to be finished so that I could get online and communicate! AAAARRRGGGHHH!!!!! Perish the thought that I would get up off my butt and venture outside these four walls to interact with flesh and blood people or even make a phone call, for pity's sake! (Don't anyone take that wrong - you know I love all my online friends - but I know you can all relate.) I pay bills online, do my banking online, why, with this new laptop I just bought, I could even watch tv online, were I so inclined. Perhaps it's just me and my obsessive-compulsive nature or my addictive personality. But I don't think this online obsession is limited just to me and to others like me. Our society is becoming more and more a computer-driven society. No room or time for face-to-face interaction anymore. Now, don't get me wrong, I'll be the first one to belly-up to the internet cafe bar and when I'm traveling I absolutely refuse to stay in a hotel that doesn't have wireless internet connectivity or at the very least, a business office with computers available to guests for their use. But on a day like today, when I've been enslaved by my computers, I'm starting to feel more and more like I've just stepped through the looking glass into a strange and frightening new world and left behind the comfort and safety of home. Anyone out there remember what we did for hours upon hours before we had computers in every room and laptops that travel with us wherever we go? I'm going downstairs now to cook dinner for my family. But we all know damn well I'll be back on here later, don't we? |
I don’t usually make New Year’s Resolutions, but I broke with tradition this year and made one—just one. I made a resolution that I am going to be happy this year. Those of you who have followed my blog know that the last three years have been absolutely hellish. I believe that it’s easy to get stuck in that mind-frame of misery and then when life gets better, it’s possible not to recognize it because of one’s miserable mind-frame. Well, life has gotten a lot better and I refuse to stay stuck. I have so many blessings to be thankful for. My brother is home and he’s happy, I have a beautiful new grandchild, all of my children are doing wonderfully, I love my husband and I really don’t have a thing to be unhappy about. What’s amazing is how easily things or people from the past can reach into the present and latch on to you, dragging you back to that time and place of misery. Let me give you an example. My deceased father was married to a woman that we all refer to as The Black Widow. She married him for his money and broke his heart—which was no small feat in itself since my dad was not a person you might describe as ‘sensitive.’ She is still around, spreading her own special brand of misery every chance she gets. Although her sons have placed her in an assisted living facility, which limits her activity to some degree, she does have a cell phone—her link to the outside world. As of late, it appears that I have become her special target. I am still in the middle of trying to settle my father’s estate (complicated by the fact that he died without a will), so I have tried to maintain a certain level of civility with her. Her recent phone calls to me are making this a nearly impossible task. Given the fact that I trust her not one iota and think that everything that comes out of her mouth is a lie, listening to her ramble on during a phone call is equal to having a tooth pulled with no anesthesia. After one particularly painful phone call last weekend, my two daughters and my brother sat me down and said, “Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t answer the phone when she calls.” A light finally came on. I don’t have to maintain anything with her and they’re right, I don’t have to answer her phone calls. My brother reminded me that I am the administrator of the estate, I hold the cards and the only thing she can do now is irritate me. Which I have been guilty of letting her do for quite some time now. So I have decided to make one more resolution—better late than never. My new resolution is that I will not allow the hellacious past to intrude into my happy future and drag me backwards; and that includes not taking any more of The Black Widow’s crazy phone calls. I’m going forward and leaving all of that craziness behind. Here’s to an awesome new beginning! |
| From September, 1996 through November, 1998, my family had the good fortune to live in South America - Caracas,Venezuela to be exact. My husband grew up living abroad as his father was in the oil industry and traveled to any place on the globe where oil was to be had. Hubby has lived in so many foreign countries, I couldn't even begin to name them all. Our first (and only, so far) foray into living abroad as a family was when my husband's company sent him to Venezuela to develop the South American Operations for the company. It was a lovely experience and one that I will always treasure. My children share that sentiment, in fact, we were all very sad to have to leave there when Hugo Chavez came into power and started throwing everything and everyone American out of his country. None of us knew any Spanish when we arrived in Caracas, except for my husband and he knew just enough to get us in trouble. My children picked it up quickly, but old brains don't learn so fast, so it was a much slower process for my husband and me. It did make for some really interesting conversations though. Like the time we took a family outing to a hardware store to purchase a towel rack. The clerk spoke no English,but by then, my husband had a smattering of Spanish language knowledge under his belt. My eldest son, Eli, was already fluent in Spanish by that time (I swear the kid could be a linguist by trade if he wanted to) and was always eager to help translate. He had wandered off to some other part of the store, though, so Hubby was struggling through trying to communicate to the clerk what we were looking for. Once we established it was a towel rack that we needed, the clerk scurried off and came back with a wide assortment for us to examine. I looked at each one, but none of them were just right, so off he went again for another armload of towel racks. This went on for several minutes until finally he had exhausted his entire supply and I had yet to find one to my liking. By this time, I was frustrated and just wanted to leave. Eli had wandered back to join us and was there when my husband told the clerk that he was sorry, but his wife didn't like any of the towel racks. The clerk looked at me, then at Hubby and then back at me with a very puzzled look on his face, finally shrugged his shoulders and just kind of stood there. As we were walking to our car, I noticed that Eli was giggling to himself. "What's so funny, Eli?" I asked. Eli looked at his dad and said, "Dad, do you know what you told that guy?" Still laughing - even more now. Smart-aleck kid. "You told him that you didn't want any of those racks because Mom didn't love him!" Eli screamed with laughter. It seems that "no thanks, my wife doesn't like them." is very similar in Spanish to, "No thanks, my wife doesn't love you." Okay, no problem, we never went back to that store. Then there was the time when Hubby and I were at the beach and wandered up to a little fish shack to have some lunch. We had lived in Caracas long enough and had enough Spanish lessons that we both were feeling practically bi-lingual. We looked over the menu, which was very simple. Chicken or fish. A no-brainer - we would have the fish, since we actually could watch as the fresh catch was brought to the grill straight from the water a few feet away. Hubby said to the waiter in his best Spanish, "Es el pollo fresca de la mar?" Smiling his biggest smile. Nice and polite and speaking the language. The waiter just stared for a moment and finally nodded his head yes. Hubby told him, again in his best Spanish that we would both have "el pollo fresca." Great. We were all set. In just a few moments, here came our waiter with our plates- of chicken. I looked at Hubby, he looked at me, we looked at the waiter. As the waiter turned to leave, Hubby said to me, "Didn't I order the fish?" I thought back, remembered what he had said ... and fell off my chair laughing. I realized that Hubby had actually asked the waiter if "the CHICKEN was fresh from the sea." I told him we were lucky we didn't get a can of tuna. Okay,okay, Hubby wasn't the only one who mangled the Spanish language. One Saturday as we were loading in to the car to go to the beach, I proudly told my gardener in my best Spanish, "Mario,hay comida in el cocina y cuando yo tengo hambre, va en la cocina y comer, si? I was so proud as we drove away. Until Eli pointed out to me that I had told Mario- "There is food in the kitchen. When I get hungry, you go in the kitchen and eat, okay? Ahhhh, those were the days! |
| Does anyone besides me remember that hilarious Bud Lite commercial from several years ago with the guy in an upstairs apartment (as if we - the viewers - were looking in through the window) wearing what my sons refer to as a "wife beater" T-shirt and he was slow dancing with his dog? It made me laugh out loud every time I saw it. Well,my son Eli has a 100 pound chocolate lab who thinks he's a lap dog. His name is Maverick and he's the sweetest dog in the world. He's very social, consequently, he's always underfoot, always has to be in the room where all the action is. When my son leaves for work in the morning, Maverick is convinced every time,apparently, that he will never see Eli again.He mopes about the house for the first couple of hours after Eli leaves and finally revives himself in time to pester the heck out of my husband while he is trying to get some work done in his home office. When Eli gets home at night, it's a huge celebration - for Maverick, at least. Don't dare get in his way as he races to the front door to pounce on Eli or Maverick will mow you down. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Eli has taught Maverick many tricks, but my favorite one is slow dancing. (I refer you back to the first paragraph and my fondness for the old Bud Lite commercial.) I tried to get a picture of them slow dancing to post for you, but by the time I found my camera and got ready to shoot, Maverick had tired of the game and was ready to move on to something else. That's why he looks like he is trying to bite Eli's face off. I was undeterred - I had to have the picture.So, here ya go,  although it doesn't quite capture the same feeling as the Bud Lite commercial. Use your imagination. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Kay Jordan ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I have made some wonderful friends here at WDC and I can't begin to tell you how much I look forward every single day (okay, several times every day) to logging on to see what jewels I may find in my friends' blogs. Having said that, I hope that you, all of my dear friends here, the ones I have bared my soul to (well, some of it, anyway - there is more to come) will allow me the luxury today of gloating just a wee bit about my truly fabulous children - my funny valentines. Hubby and I have four children - well, actually six because I count my two son-in-laws as mine too - but four that we actually can take credit for. To say that they are the joy of my life is so shallow a statement to make in comparison to what they add to it, that I hesitate to say that. But I will indeed make that statement and then try, in the following paragraphs, to explain in more detail about the joy they bring to me. They fill my heart daily with hope and pride and complete amazement. I hope they know just how blessed I am to be their mother. As I said, I have four children. They are, in chronological order: Breeann (29)- my oldest daughter, Kristen (27) - my youngest daughter, Eli (23)- my oldest son, and Caleb (21)- my baby...err...uhhh...I mean, my youngest son. Four of the eight loves of my life - the other four being my hubby and my three beautiful grandchildren. But, I digress. Breeann is my beautiful, sensitive, caring, strong oldest daughter. She is truly my Mini-Me. I don't know how she'll feel about that, but it's absolutely the truth. I look at her and I see....me. At every age, every phase, every life challenge she faces, I see more and more of myself in her. Except for one very important difference. She is the improved version of me - the kinder, gentler version, if you will. I am awed by her mothering skills, her incredible capacity for compassion and her unending energy that allows her to give more and more of herself, her time and her talents to others. She is an inspiration--not only to me, but to so many others around her. Her husband could not have a better wife, her children are so fortunate that she is their mother (she is a much better mother than I ever was) and I am terribly proud that she is my daughter and my friend. Kristen is next in line. She is, in a word, a spitfire. She and her hubby just had a baby - their first - a beautiful little boy. Kristen has eased so gracefully into the role of motherhood, that it was obviously a role she was destined for. She is, in all things, a force to be reckoned with. Never one to back down in any situation, Kristen has faced down many difficulties in her life - some of her own making, some of them completely unbidden and undeserved, but each of them extremely challenging in their own right. She never stopped fighting and now she has come into a place where she shines. Motherhood could not agree with her more. I look forward to watching Kristen and her hubby carve out their place in this world. I know it will be exciting, it will be unique and Kristen will be holding the reins with a strength and courage that continues to amaze me. Eli - my first son. He is brilliant, witty, loves with all his heart, knows no fear and is invariably the one leading the charge. He is my adventurer, the one to throw caution to the wind and charge headlong into new experiences. Whatever he does, he does with his whole being. He holds nothing back and at times, because of that total abandon, he gets his heart broken. But he always stands up, dusts himself off and heads back into life full-force. He has an insatiable thirst for knowledge and is constantly learning new things. When he finally finds his passion, look out! He will blaze through life with all the energy and genius he possesses. He is amazing. Caleb - my baby. Determination, single-mindedness, ambition, strength, courage - he possesses all these things in abundance. At twenty-one, he has a plan for his life and is following it doggedly, unswayed by any outside influences. He is a rock. You might think that the young man I have described is so fixed on his goals that he neglects the gentler side of his nature, but you couldn't be more wrong. He is as loving, kind and caring as he is determined, destined and intense. I see great things for Caleb in his future. He will excel at whatever he sets his mind to, but his heart is as big as his ambitions and that is a rare quality in today's society. So on this day when we honor our special Valentines, I thank you for indulging me by allowing me to brag shamelessly on my children. I thank God for the honor of being their mother. I recognize in them all of the better parts of their parents' natures and I salute them for shaking off the warts and wounds that their father and I unthinkingly passed on to them. Breeann, Kristen, Eli and Caleb, I love you with all that is in me. You are all amazing and I am so fortunate that you are mine. |
| I just remembered that I do have one more quick thing to say before I actually buckle down and do some work. I blogged several days ago - not sure when - about how I sometimes think I know better than God. I referenced an old saying in my entry about people who think they have "God on a stick." Oh my gosh, how weird is this? I went to church on Sunday and we had a guest speaker because our pastor (who is great) is out of town. Well, this guest speaker clearly thought he had God on a stick. Bllleeecccchhhhh!!!!! Just found that interesting. |
| Just got home from seeing my therapist (yay!) and then re-setting my latest traffic ticket at Municipal Court (you see, I drive like a bat out of hell, but that's another story.) I have been able to check two things off my to-do list today and am determined to check off a few more, so I promptly headed upstairs to my office, closed the door and got out my growing stack of bills that need paying and mail that needs attending to. Logged on to the desktop computer that I don't really like to use (I much prefer my laptop - downstairs in the middle of everything), answered a phone call from hubby and then set my mind to attacking that stack of bills/mail. I had very good intentions ... but then I thought, well, I'll just check WDC speedy quick-like and then get to work. Had a couple of emails (yay! - always love that!) so had to read and answer them. I tried, really I did, to turn away from WDC at that point and get to work ... but then I thought I could just check to see if any of my WDC buddies have posted anything new on their blogs, then I had to read and comment on the ones who had posted since I was last on here a few hours ago. Then I thought that since I was on here already, I should just go ahead and post something on my blog for today - something short, not too deep, nothing with much introspection, just a litle something. Now, having done that, I find myself typing slower and slower just to delay the inevitable. I am not a detail person and I hate, hate, hate paying bills and keeping up with stuff. Yuck! However, since I have declared myself retired, that job falls to me, which of course is only fair. I am home with more time on my hands, after all, but the thing is, well, you know, I hate detail work. And even more than I hate detail work, I just want to write. And my WDC addiction is growing, growing, growing! On the bright side, though, hubby should appreciate the fact that my WDC addiction is now much stronger than my addiction to shopping. I think that's a good thing and he should reward me by not making me pay the bills and do the detail work, right? Well, it was worth a shot anyway. Guess I'll go slog my way through the mail now. Later, All. |
Here's some of the stuff that sent me in search of a good therapist. It's in the Comedy Folder in my portfolio.....check it out....Please? 
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| So I've been seeing a therapist for a year now. My modus operandi has always been to use therapy as a life raft when I was going under for the third time—a stop gap measure, if you will. After 3-4, at the very most, 5 visits, I would have my footing back and would bid adieu to my temporary therapist (and I never saw the same one twice either) and go about my not-so-merry, but at least slightly more functional, way. I was at least self-aware enough to recognize that I did not want anyone, therapists included, to get too close because should that happen, they might, God forbid, really see me—warts and all. Then I turned fifty. I don’t know what was magic about that number. Maybe it was just 50 years worth of doing the same thing with the same results, having the same arguments, the same dissatisfactions; or maybe it was the realization that, having reached the milestone of half a century, I no longer had the luxury of “someday” thinking. You know what I’m talking about. The thinking that goes like this: Someday, I’ll be happy, someday I won’t be ruled by my emotions, someday I’ll understand why I do the things I do, etc, etc. Whatever the reason, I finally took the proverbial bull by the horns, made an appointment with a therapist and told her right up front that my pattern was to run away when anyone got too close and that I did not want to do that this time. I told her I was committed to facing down my own demons once and for all. Smartest thing I ever did. Scariest, too. Because this therapist took me at my word and did not let me slide. In fact, she pinned me to the wall anytime I even tried to squirm away from looking an issue square in the face. She had my number—well, of course she did, I gave it to her. Here I am one year later with (please forgive me for using this old, worn-out cliché) a whole new lease on life. I no longer feel the need to hide. I actually want people to know me for who I really am. I’ve rediscovered a passion for writing, I feel strong and in control. Not only do I see this great therapist once a week, I also attend a women’s group therapy session on a weekly basis. I’ve never cared much for women friends—and I know that a lot of women out there understand exactly what I’m talking about. But NOW(!), I have this incredible group of women who I meet with weekly and they are amazing! The group is comprised of women of varying ages, backgrounds and issues. At first glance, one might make the assumption that our differences are greater than our similarities. Ahh, but one would be wrong. I have learned something invaluable from this group of ladies. We all share a common bond. We are all finding our way through this maze of life, trying to find the peace that has been so elusive to all of us. And I’ve discovered that it’s much easier to traverse that path with a group of amazing women who aren’t afraid to speak the truth. Trust—it’s an amazing thing. Who knew? |
| This post will probably be a smorgasbord of things - I haven't quite settled on one particular thing to write about today, so ... I guess I'll just let my fingers do the talking and see where that takes us! First, I have to tell you all about the cutest thing my 3 year old granddaughter said yesterday. (And are grandchildren not the most wonderful little beings in the whole world?) Someone once told me that grandchildren are God's reward for not killing your kids when they were teenagers. Anyway, my two daughters, my granddaughter, Olivia and one of my grandsons (Ray - he's 2 months old - sooooo sweet!) were all in my SUV headed out to do some shopping. We stopped to get breakfast and Olivia wanted sausage - no bread - just sausage. She was very adamant about the no bread part. So my daughter ordered two sausage patties for her. It came in a little styrofoam bowl so my daughter tore the sausage into bite-size pieces and gave it to Olivia in the little bowl. She was sitting in the backseat in her little car seat, happily eating away. Suddenly she stopped and said, "Hey, this is just like cereal. Except it's sausage. And there's no milk." Maybe you had to be there, but it was just so funny. I laughed about it all day long. I still laugh every time I think about it. Later, after a hard day of shopping I took the whole gang to a late lunch. Before we finished, it was time for my daughter to pick up my oldest grandson, Aiden, who is 5, at school. She went to pick him up and brought him back to the restaurant. We got him settled in at the table and he looked around at all of us and said, "I'm sorry I was late."  Pure joy, I tell you, to have grandkids!There has been quite a bit of talk on here lately about dreams. I had a doozy last night that I'm still wondering about. I went to the doctor without an appointment. Apparently I thought I was going to see my eye doctor and I was sitting in the waiting room thinking they must have moved their office to a new place because it sure looked different. My oldest son was with me (but instead of being 23, in my dream he was about 12) and so was my 2 month old grandson, but in my dream, he was 2 years old. Right before they called my name to see the doctor, I realized I was at the wrong doctor's office. I was at my family practice doctor's office, not the eye doctor. They called my name and I didn't want to admit what a stupid mistake I had made so I had to quick think up a reason why I came to the doctor. When the doctor came in (and he wasn't my regular doctor, just some random doctor who was filling in for my regular doctor) I told him I was there because I was having a problem with ingrown toenails and that if I didn't have a pedicure religiously every two weeks, I would get ingrown toenails. He was very serious, looked all concerned and told me to wait just a moment. He left the room and came back with a ziplock bag full of pedicure tools - it contained everything I needed to do my own pedicures - but the tools looked like they had been soaked in salt water, they were all encrusted with salt and looked very old. He was being very secretive about this ziplock bag full of pedicure tools. He told me not to tell anyone he had given them to me, but that I should be able to ward off the ingrown toenails with that. Can anyone say W-E-I-R-D?? But wait, there's more... I went to the front to pay for my visit. My son was standing beside me and I suddenly realized I had left my grandson in the waiting room. I freaked out and started looking for him and some random woman and her daughter came up to me holding him and told me not to worry because they had taken care of him because they saw him trying to go out the front door. Then I woke up - thank God! Any dream interpreters out there who want to tackle this one? Kay Jordan ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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I'm so far right the Tea Party looks like a bunch of hippies!
