Worst Job Experience

Tomorrow my father and I are headed for Branson for some family fun.  I'll be away from my 'puter for a week so thought I'd give you something to laugh over while I'm away.  I came across this e-mail I received several years ago from one of my customers.  It was so funny I couldn't just delete it.

This is supposedly a true story told by a guy named Rob, a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana.  He sent it to his sister, Sue.

The e-mail starts out, Hi Sue, Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother.  Last week I had a bad day at the office.  I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all.  Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job.  As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea.  I wear a suit to the office.  It's a wetsuit.  This time of year the water is quite cool.  So what we do to keep warm is this;  We have a diesel powered industrial water heater.  This $20,000 piece of shit sucks the water out of the sea.  It heats it to a delightful temperature.  It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose.  Now this sounds like a damn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints.  What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is I take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wetsuit.  This floods my whole suit with warm water.  It's like working in a Jacuzzi.

Nothing funny yet, right?  It now gets better.

Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my ass started to itch.  So, of course, I scratched it.  This only made things worse.  Within a few seconds my ass started to burn.  I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done.  In agony I realized what had happened.  The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit.  Now since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it.  However, the crack of my ass was not as fortunate.  When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into my ass.  I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator.   His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with 5 other divers, were all laughing hysterically.  Needless to say I aborted the dive.  I was instructed to make 3 agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling 35 minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression.  When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet.  As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my ass as soon as I get in the chamber.  The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't shit for 2 days because my asshole was swollen shut.  So, next time your having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be it you had a jellyfish shoved up your ass.

Hope you laughed as hard as I did when I read this the first time.

Hot Rod Grandma

I've been going through some melancholy lately.  Nothing serious, just not my usual fun loving self.  This gray cloud of doom has been hanging over my head every since I broke up with Darrell.  My daughter says I am a "people pleaser" and "people pleasers" sometimes cannot full fill their pleaser duties.  I failed terribly and can't say "I'm sorry" enough but that doesn't change the fact that I did what I had to do because I did not feel the same way that Darrell did. 

Today, while stopped at a street light, I glanced over at the car next to me.  Two young men looked over at me and mouthed "Wanna drag?"  I had to laugh as I gave them the thumbs up.  The light turned green and with a squeal of wheels this Grandma left them standing still.  I slowed down and waited for the young men who were laughing also.  They both gave me a thumbs up and we parted ways most likely never to see each other again. 

Sometimes something small and insignificant can completely change the course of the day.  I am now singing The sun will come out tomorrow, betcha bottom dollar that the sun will shine. 

Go Green America

My brother, Bruce is a know it all that can get under people's skin easier than anyone I have ever met.  That includes a couple of my former bosses so that is saying alot.  The thing that probably get under our skin the most is that he is usually right.  I remember going to a trivia night one time with him.  I am very poor at trivia so when he asked me to go along with him I knew it was merely to fill an empty seat.  That is all right with me.  I am not a brain and have no aspirations to change that.  Bruce answered question after question while the other participants observed until a question was asked about an old black and white movie.  I love old movies so I gave an answer.  Bruce promptly told me I was wrong.  How could I possibly be wrong?  This was a subject I loved so my answer stood.  Unfortunately Bruce was right once again and I was wrong as usual.  As Eeyore would say, "Oh bother".

Brother Bruce is also a handy man to have around so last week I loaded my lawn mower into the back of my truck and took it over to Bruce for a tune up.  While Bruce was working on my lawn mower he was talking.  Another thing Bruce does very well.  I truly believe he can out talk me and all my friends know I can really gab.  This day's subject was climate changes.  I have tossed this subject around and never was convinced that man was causing such a big impact on the climate.  Bruce is a high school science teacher and after his explanation I believe he is a very good science teacher.  After Bruce drew a couple of simple charts for me the whole picture came into view.  (It has to be very simple for me to understand)  Wow, it is really scary.  Not so much for me but definitely for my children and grandchildren. 

So what can we do to reduce our carbon footprint?   My parents grew up during the Great Depression.  They really knew how to Go Green.  We simply did not get new things because there was something better out there.  If it's not broken we use it until it does break and who knows, we might find a new use for the broken item.  Dad was and still is an expert at repurposing broken items.  Here are a few suggestions that I already do to reduce my personal carbon footprint..

1)  Set your thermostat a few degrees lower in the winter and a few degrees higher in the summer.

2)  Install compact fluorescent light bulbs (CFLs) when your older incandescent bulbs burn out.

3)  Wash clothes in cold water whenever possible.

4)  Stop using disposable plastic bags.  Bring your own bags when shopping.

5)  Stop buying disposable plastic water bottles.  Buy reusable water bottle.

6)  Turn off lights when you leave a room.  Don't turn on lights for as long as you can.  Open the curtains and enjoy natural light.

7)  Drive the speed limit (Bruce's favorite) and combine all your errands for the week into one trip.

8)  Pay as many bills as possible online.

9)  Support your local economy and shop at your farmers market.

10)  Use cloth instead of paper to clean your kitchen.

This is just a few suggestions.  You can subscribe to good eco-friendly blogs such as The Daily Green, Tree Hugger, Keeper of the Home and Simple Organic for other environmentally friendly ideas.  Another good reason to go green is that 9 out of 10 time practicing green alternatives are more frugal options.

Life number 615

How many lives have you had?  I've been thinking about the many personalities of Bubbely Lou and decided there are so many personalities because of the many past lives.   Some of my past lives I don't recall at all but I know I have lived them from those who witnessed them such as my father.  Dad tells me I was once a yelling screaming pooping hell raiser.  According to Daddy Dearest the doctor swatted me on the butt and I didn't stop yelling for months.  Can anyone blame me?  Is that anyway to greet a new comer? 

Thus the beginning of my many lives.  Life 5 must have been wild if I could only remember it.  Life 5 began the day I learned to walk or as I am told, the day I learned to run.  Mom and Dad must have had quite a time with two little rug rats running in circles getting into everything.  I am told I was a precocious curly haired blond in the 8th life who loved baby brother so much I threw whole raw potatoes in his bassinet to feed him.  Such an endearing child. (Me, not baby brother)  Life number 489 began the day I divorced John and life number 585 began the day Les died.  With every new achievement, new celebration, new crisis I overcame, I entered into a new life.  I became a new person.  In some cases a stronger person, in others a more compassionate person. 

So here I am at life number 615 wondering who the hell I am.  This much I know about myself, I am a loving mother, grandmother, sister, daughter, friend who likes to perform victory dances when I win at anything especially since I seldom win.  I like to celebrate my birthday, any one's birthday, any one's victories, I just like to celebrate.  I love hats and tea cups and tea pots and art journals and old movies and Mel Gibson even if he has gotten a little nutsy.  I love anything neon green especially if it is polka dotted.  I am a feminist ready to defend a woman's rights.  I hate lies and injustices and prejudices.  I hate any type of cruelty.  It just kills me to see people and animals abused.  

All this in a little over 60 years.  I intend to live to the ripe old age of 100.  How many more lives?  Guess you'll just have to come along with me to find out.

Old wounds

As I walk along the path of my new life without the warm reassuring touch of his hand, I see shadows I never noticed before.  Shadows around every corner. The shadows are the scars from wounds received years ago that were never properly administered to.  In my haste to get on with my life after divorcing my husband I did not take the time to clean the old wounds and soothe them with salve.  I merely wrapped gauze over them concealing the ugly raw sores.

Now all these years have past and I find I have not healed.  Sadly I have hurt a good man because I had not taken the time needed to reflect and heal.  I enjoyed time with Darrell and find myself wanting to be with him but I realize I cannot get into a relationship with him or any other man until I have dealt with the past. The fear of the past has infected the wound.  Trying to move on and stop occasionally to put on a new bandage is just a cover up.  I realize what I need to do is stop and embrace the sadness of old wounds that I have been holding on to so tightly. 

Gene Knudson Huffman says this of his experience with pain, "I've never felt a pain that didn't bear a blessing".   Sad, but oh so true.  Through our journey through life we stumble and fall and get scraped up pretty badly.  If we are diligent with our search we will find we have been blessed with a gift after the pain and fear and grief from our mishap.  The gift comes in many forms, it may be a new knowledge of your inner strength, or a discovery of friendship or it may be a spiritual gift.  Every life experience has a gift.  Seek and ye shall find!

Self-care tool box

I, like everyone else, have gone through periods of melancholy and have learned ways to deal with it.  Yet when that sadness hits me, it is as if it is the first time and I don't know how to handle it.  I have decided I need a special self-care tool box.  A box that hold the tools needed to drive sadness away and help connect me to myself once again.

Three things help me better than all other home remedies to conquer that occasional sadness; laughter, music and movement.  So I headed to Dave's Movies to rent the tools needed to loosen the grip sadness had on me.  I rented The Great Race and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.  First I watched the classic comedy, The Great Race.  If the comic team of Jack Lemmon and Peter Falk don't wipe your blues away and put on a happy face, then nothing well.  After that I put the musical in my DVD player.  Laughter may be the best medicine but what Doctor Lou prescribes as the fastest acting medicine is a dose of song and dance.  Music makes me feel good all over.  It has a way of reaching the core of my very being and grabs my heart.  Before long I had my eyes closed and I was swinging and swaying all around my living room.  This wonderful musical supplied two of the three tools needed to sweep my blues away.

I guess I should have rented Singing In the Rain.  That musical has all three tools in it.  I wouldn't have had to sit through two movies to get rid of the blues.  Actually I enjoyed Seven Brides for Seven Brothers so much I watched it twice.  Next time I am out where I can purchase DVDs I am going to look for Singing in the Rain to put in my Self-Care tool box.  Hopefully I won't need it for a while but it never hurts to be prepared.

Can anyone hear my Pain?

Today I struggle.  I struggle more than usual and I realize this inner conflict is no different today than any other day.  But today I want to scream and yell and cry my heart out and beg and plead to anyone and everyone to hear my pain.  Today is the day that the caretaker has chosen to breakdown.  Not completely because that is something I just won't do.  Well at least not today.

Helen Keller advises us to "keep your face to the sun and you won't see the shadow".  I have been trying, really I have.  I went to the St. Louis Art Museum on this beautiful sunny day.  A day that God created for us to rejoice in.  The art museum is a favorite spot for me to meditate.  The artist throughout time has been able to create a visual story of the lives of people around them, their hardships and celebrations.  I wonder what the artist would see if they painted my image today.  I believe I know because I have already painted that picture.  My self-portrait is not pretty.  The clown who tries so hard not to let everyone see her tears.

Even the art museum could not change my mood so I decided to work in the yard.  I drug out the lawnmower and started it up.  I was able to cut the one strip I had missed last time because it started raining and I ran out of gas.  I guess I'll put the lawnmower away.  I just filled my little truck up with gas and I am not going back to see those thieves again today.  Once a day is enough.  That is one reason I am in a mood.  One of the many reasons.

I guess it is time to get out pen and paper and start a gratitude list.  I hate being in these moods and refuse to go to bed hating my life.  The real problem came about when I woke up missing Les badly once again.  So I'll start my list with how lucky I have been to have loved and have had love in return not how I really feel at this moment of being cheated by his death.  Yes, I know, this too shall pass.

Precious memories with the grandchildren

My two eldest grandchildren spent the night with me.  We stayed up late Easter night watching rented movies and playing games.  Then the five of us cuddled in bed before falling asleep.  Yes five, both Abby and Wesley had their new four foot tall fluffy fuzzy wussy Easter bunnies in bed with us.  Squished between two precious children is this grandma's favorite night even though my arm fell asleep from the awkward way I was lying on it.

Morning arrived way too soon for Abby and Grandma but not for the early riser, Wesley.  As always, Wesley was full of surprises.  While laying in bed I heard him reading Pete the Cat, I Love My White Shoes.  This is a favorite book with sing along sections.  His voice was sweet and clear as he sang about the cat's white shoes.  Shortly after he finished the book he came into the bedroom to tell me he was cooking pancakes for breakfast for all of us.  I was pleased when he informed me he found Eggos in the freezer.  Whew, I was imagining eggs, flour and milk all over the kitchen.


Those two little monkeys never slowed down all day.  We played bingo, charades, hide and seek, explored the neighborhood in the rain, and watched kiddie movies.  The most memorable part of the day was when they made puppets with Popsicle sticks and their original art work.  They then put on a puppet show exclusively for Grandma.

Amazing how the stories of our lives keep repeating.  I remember one hot summer day when Sue and I put on a similar performance for my Grandma Nina minus the puppets.  This was before air conditioning so we had been playing in the cellar where it was cooler.  I no longer remember what the little play was about but I do remember with clarity Grandma laughing at her twin granddaughters' antics and then the applause and praise.  Sue and I were quite sure we were headed for stardom.  Then again my daughter told me of a play she and her cousins had put on the summer before my mother died.  The story line was around the classic fairy tale, Cinderella.  My mother, their grandmother was the heroine, Cinderella.  Jennifer still cries when she talks about that day.  She claims the girl cousins argued over who played the only male part, that of Prince Charming.  The other girls would rather be the wicked step sisters than play the part of a boy.  To keep peace Jennifer took that part.  She ended up thinking she had the best part because she got to dance with Grandma Jane.  My mother passed away less than six months later.

Precious memories.  I hope these memories will be as precious to Abby and Wesley as they are to me.

Life Merit Badges

It will come to my readers as no surprise that life is tough.  Yes, I know in earlier blogs I have written about the joys of life and I still maintain the idea that the joys of life out weigh the heartaches 10 to 1.  So why is it that when the monsters come out to play they don't come one at a time, but rather 10 at a time?  We can all handle the washing machine going out on the day we got the big promotion.  But Noooooo, the washing machine goes out the day the care insurance and house insurance is due, the stock market crashes again practically cleaning out that savings account you were depending on badly for the car insurance, house insurance and the new roof that will now have to wait.  On top of that you haven't had a good nights sleep in weeks because you have to get up and change the sheets due to the night sweats and how the hell does the boss think you can handle another freaking responsibilty.  You get the idea.  Ever have one of those days, weeks, years???

Yet somehow we get through the crisis and make plans for better times.  We pick up the pieces of our broken hearts, broken lives, broken washing machine ....whatever and go on.  But shouldn't we get recognized for our courageous efforts?  Purely by chance I came across a web site selling Mama Merit Badges.  The badges are to acknowledge the work and often time unrecognized hardships mothers endure parenting.  The badges are embroidered cloth circles like the scouts use to honor the scout's accomplishments.  Funny thing about motherhood, the job doesn't end simply because the child has left the nest.  Now mother has this extended family to help along with PMS whose symptions have changed because Mom is now entering the realm of menopause.

So why not Life Merit Badges?  This is what I envision:

Empty Nest Badge:  The recipient would be required to have gotten their children through high school or college and into their first house or apartment.  Or perhaps got their last chick married and out of the house.  The recipient is now faced with the deafening quiet of a house that no longer has teenagers raiding the refrigerator and their comings and goings all hours of the day and night.  Wear this badge with pride, you've earned it.

Cancer Survivor Badge:  This recipient would be someone who has survived cancer.  Someone who has taken every test and treatment the doctors could throw at them and looked death in the face and wouldn't give up.  This person deserves a medal of honor but since the government doesn't recognize this type of heroism I give you the Cancer Survivor Badge.

Friendship Badge:  Friendship is a blessing.  It is a bond we developed along life's journey that gets all of us through some of our roughest times.  The recipient would be someone who stood by their friend when no one else believed in them.  Someone who made their friends feel special and needed like no other.  A friend who makes you smile.

60th Birthday Badge:  The name of this badge says it all.  This badge is for the recipient who has celebrated their 60th birthday.  For the person who yells &%8*%#, I'm a senior citizen.  So take your badge and proudly display it at McDonalds and get your 10% senior discount!

Menopause Badge:  The recipient of this badge would have graduated from the aggravating symptoms of PMS to the life changing symptoms of menopause.  Hooray, no more periods!  Good thing, right?  But no one told you about the nights sweats, the hot flashes, the mood swings and the forgetfulness.  They tell me it gets better.  I'm waiting.

Widow Badge:  For all those among us who have lost the love of their lives just when their lives were slowing down and they could enjoy that person's presence.  For those who cry themselves to sleep at night only to wake and find themselves still alone.  For those who walk outside into the sunshine and smile because they don't want to bring everyone around them down.  Be brave, be happy.  You have had what some only dream of.

Divorce Badge:  This badge is for those among us who loved not wisely.  For those who have taken the hard knocks of a rotten marriage and ran for the hills.  Ran to find a new life, a better life.  Ask any divorcee, some of the hardest times of their life was going through the divorce, not the marriage.  Wear this badge to show your fortitude, you deserve it.

Retirement Badge:  This badge is for those who have given up the daily grind of working for someone else and now living on a limited income.  It can be done, but it isn't as easy as it looks.  But look on the bright side, you no longer have a boss to answer to and there is more time to spend with the grandchildren.

Life is so full of ups and downs.  Sometimes you feel like Teddy Roosevelt and want to carry a big stick.  Be on guard for the next assault.   Take heart, "God's in His heaven and all's right with the world."

You Can Do It

Recently I bought a book I found on Amazon.com.  I knew nothing about it.  It was simply with many other books listed under "if you like this you may like this ....."  The book is You Can Do It! The Merit Badge Handbook For Grown-up Girls.  Naturally, I bought two, one for my "kindred spirit" Kathy, who loves adventures as much as I do.  I probably should have bought a few more so that I could con my sisters and some other girlfriends into joining me in some of my crazy and adventurous high jinks. 

The woman who envisioned this book, Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas was an avid Girl Scout in her youth and tragically died September 11, 2001 on United Airlines Flight 93.  Her family members completed the book idea for her.  The merit badges are broken into categories similar to that of the Girl Scout badges.  The seven categories are:  dare, create, learn, play, deal, connect and dream. 

There are 63 badges I have the opportunity to earn.  Happily, I have already competed some of the merit badges.  I have learned to belly dance (belly dancing 101 did not go well but was fun, I just don't move that way), gone scuba diving (pretty incredible since I cannot swim), went skydiving with my sister Mary and rock climbing with my brother Bruce.  I have taken yoga classes and worked out with a personal trainer for a couple of years.  Go Me!  I have also decorated my whole house in my very own eccentric style earning the decorating badge and I have earned the painting badge by using the wall of my home as my canvas.  I have earned the badge for quilting, reading and for teaching.  I taught craft classes while vacationing in Florida to a group of broads who were as dingy as me.  I went to college to become a teacher.  Not a good plan.  My ADD disorder does not allow me to focus long enough to teach.

Some of the merit badges do not interest me at all.  I have no desire to be a stand-up comedian or starting a rock band and I certainly will never get on stage to sing.  I can't hold a key.  Even the church choir didn't want me.  However I would love to travel around the world, build a web site, get organized and learn to meditate.  One merit badge is called Look Sharp with your own personal style.  Last month I had my girlfriend, Paula give me a makeup overhaul at the mall.  It was a blast.  She was assisted by Nick Caridi, a famous makeup artist out of New York, I think.  He kind of looked like Sly Stallone.  Gobs of fun flirting with a handsome man and not having to worry about anyone getting the wrong idea.  Just enjoying being a woman and feeling pretty.  I'll have to read that chapter of the book.  Maybe that will give me another badge.  Then I'll only have 51 more to work for.  The picture below was taken when I had my makeover.  What a hoot!

the last badge is called Dream On, Make your own badge.  Presently I am overwhelmed with all the other badges I have to earn.  But not to worry; as our hero says in the movie The Shawshank Redemption, "Get busy living, or get busy dying" and this woman never says "die".

The caretaker

Mark Nepo describes the relationship between that of the caretaker as similar to that of the alcoholic.  When I first read that I could not relate, especially since I realize I am a caretaker.  After some contemplation I started to understand.  The caretaker is addicted to that feeling of love and gratefulness he/she receives from the person they are attending.  Like an addiction the caretaker just can't get enough of that warm fuzzy feeling.  This is where the problems come in. Like an addiction, the caretaker continues to let others place their burdens in his/her hands and before long the self-sacrificing caretaker is no longer happy.  We all have our own problems and struggles in our own lives.  Self-sacrifice has become a noose around the caretakers neck that keeps getting tighter until somethings got to give.

It has taken me many years to come to the realization that no one person can take on the problems of others.  I cannot make everyone happy.  We all need each other.  Not to rescue others or take on their pain because we are also stumbling and struggling in the course of our lives.  But rather to be there as the loving guide.  There is no one who has not struggled, who has not experienced the rawness of life.  Even those celebrities we hear about have their own heartaches.  What we can do is relate our life experiences to others.  We can share our compassion and accept their stories without embracing their pain as our own.

Yes, as you can guess I have been consoling someone I love.  I wish I could take on their pain, but realize that is not an option.  I tried to take my own advice.  I sat quietly and listened and then gave examples of my similar struggles.  Was I able to help?  I don't know but since I am a caretaker I am thankful that I was there to at least try.

good friends are like stars

Good friends are like stars, you don't always see them, but you know they are always there.  We meet and befriend so many people along our journey through life.  After I married and was blessed with children I lost track of most of my girlfriends from school.  Life 101 kept me so busy I thought I had no time for them.  I was wrong.  I should have made time for them.  I now know they would have made some of my rough roads much smoother.

I now rejoice each time I see any of my old friends.  Today I ran into a dear friend from high school at my granddaughters school.  We were both there having breakfast with our grandchildren.  She looked great despite the snappy black hat she was sporting to hide her bald head.  You see, my friend is another victim of cancer.  However I doubt that anyone would hear her call herself a "victim".  She is and always has been a very strong wonderful woman with a bright smile and the most delectable chuckle.  I love to listen to her laugh.

I've been sitting here reminiscing about our friendship.  As I recall my first class with her was English in middle school.  Our teacher was a strange bird who had a real fear of her students.  Not that I could blame her.  Years before while writing an assignment on the chalk board a student had crept up from behind and stabbed her in the back with a pair of scissors.  She obviously survived but from that time on she pressed her back against the chalk board while conducting class so that no one could catch her off guard again.  My girlfriend had aspirations of being a writer.  I thought that was amazing since I had no idea what I would do at the end of each school day let alone when I got out of school.

Back then my friend was quite lovely with long blond curls and I was quite sure she could do anything she set her mind to do.  So much water under the bridge.  We have been out of high school for over 40 years now.  She and I both had two children and both divorced our first husbands.  She remarried while I took the road less traveled and lived with the next love of my life.  No longer young but always young at heart we relive our youth through play with our grandchildren. 

Thanks for the memories, Sweetie.  I just came across a quote just for you: "Everyone's bald underneath their hair." Susan McHenry  Your curls will soon grow back and we'll sit and reminisce together.  I love you.

Noodles and the Peanut Butter Jar

The other day I received a phone call from Baby Sister in Texas asking when I had last talked with Sister Mary.  No she is not a nun, just another of my special sisters.  Lil' Mary Margaret lives in New London, MO, neighboring the quaint picturesque river town where Mark Twain grew up, Hannibal.  Baby Sister would not divulge the story herself.  She said I had to get it straight from the horses mouth.  She said it was so funny she laughed until tears ran down her check and off her chin. That is a characteristic we girls got from our mother.  When we get tickled we get really tickled and we love to laugh so I had to call Mary immediately.

It seems Mary was awakened at 2 A.M. after completing 18 hours of work (Mary is a serious workaholic) by a thumping sound.  Thump ...thump, thump.  Quiet... then thump, thump, thump.  She woke her husband and the two crept out of the bedroom to explore the origins of the mysterious thumping coming from somewhere in the house.  When they turned on the lights in the kitchen they found their little dog, Noodles with her head stuck in a peanut butter jar.  Mary had just finished off a jar of peanut butter before retiring to bed and as was her habit gave the empty jar to the dogs to finish off that little bit of peanut butter clinging to the inside of the jar.  Who would have thought that the new and improved wider opening of the jar that was suppose to make it more convenient to get out the tasty peanut butter was now just wide enough for little Noodles to stick her whole head.

Mary and Robert looked at each other and chuckled then grabbed the poor dog to free her head.  It didn't take them long to see this was no longer a laughing matter.  Noodles head was stuck in the jar so tight there was a vacuum created and the poor animal was about out of oxygen.  Her tongue was hanging limply from her mouth and she no longer had the strength to struggle.  Robert grabbed the jar and Mary grabbed the dog and the two pulled trying not to tear the dog's ears off.  To no avail.  They then covered the dog's neck in olive oil hoping some would seep in around the jar opening.  Nope, that didn't work.  They would have to work fast.  Noodles was fading.  Mary then took a knife and tried to cut a hole in the plastic jar.  The jar was thick and Mary was afraid she'd push too hard and the knife would not only plunge through the jar but also into little Noodles.  Desperate, Mary handed the knife to Robert who was not nearly as cautious and was able to cut a large hole in the jar.  Noodles could now breath.  Without the stress of concern for Noodles lack of oxygen Mary and Robert were able to gently pry Noodles head from the jar.  Taa Dah, Noodles was free.

Noodles will live.  She has been bathed but she will be an oily mess for a while.  Mary and I were able to laugh at the predicament Noodles had gotten herself into but would not have been laughing if they had not been able to safe her.

Mary finished off another jar of peanut butter.  She quickly put the lid on the jar and put it safely in the recycle bin.  Noodles will have to get her peanut butter from a spoon from now on.

Play time

Three weeks before the MS Mud Run and I have run out of steam.  I am not motivated to exercise but I do have energy to play.  Turns out a good place to play is also a great place to train.  If you have ever watched children play you know they play hard.  I am talking about playing at a park.  Those little rascals run as fast as they can from one activity to the next, never stopping for a breather.  We would all be much more fit if we played like children.  Kathy and I met today at Woodland Park in Collinsville, Illinois and recreated a day from our childhood.  We jumped rope, jumped on the railroad ties, went down the slides, climbed the climbing mountain, swung on the swings and played on the jungle gym.  Not only was it a very good workout but it was also a lot of fun.

Weather permitting we will do it again tomorrow.  I wonder if Kathy is up to a game of tag.  I'll be one up on her there.  She hasn't played in years, but this grandmother is blessed with the opportunity to play childhood games whenever she gets the grand kids.  "I won't grow up, I will never be a man, I won't grow up."  Don't you just love Disney's Peter Pan?

A cherished letter

When my maternal grandmother died back in 1969 I was surprised by the chest full of keepsakes she had kept.  Her keepsakes were not just mementos of special times in her life.  She also kept newspaper clippings, poetry and quotations.  My mother left a legacy of similar keepsakes.  I was not surprised to find many of hers were neatly glued into a scrapbook.  When I was in high school my mother gave my twin sister and me scrapbooks to keep our mementos of our high school activities.  I have followed in their footsteps.  My scrapbooks are filled with clippings from magazines of cottage decor, landscaping ideas and of course adventures and dreams.

Every few years I go through my scrapbooks and files that hold all my treasures and destroy those that no longer hold special meaning to me.  Last week while cleaning out an old file cabinet I came across a letter from my niece, Jessie.  The letter was written when she was in grade school.  She is now a busy mother with a daughter about the same age as she was when the letter was written.  I had kept the letter with the intentions of giving it to her when she was an adult.  I still plan to give her the letter but I can't find it in my heart to give it to her yet.  There is something very special about this letter written in her childish handwriting to her "Dear Anut Lou".  The letter is now yellowed with age and ragged on the edges from being read many times and then folded and put back in storage.  Every time I read her note I reminiscence about the little mischievous blond who was loved so much.  When she was a toddler her mother put her in a beauty pageant.  The whole family was in a uproar when she didn't win.  We were all convinced the prize went to a child whose parents had money.  The judges couldn't have been that blind to miss this crescent moon eyed baby's beauty.

No, the cherished letter will remain here with her "Anut Lou" for a few more years.  I've decided it deserves a better home than a dark dingy file and have transferred it to a picutre frame so that everyone can enjoy it.  Thanks for the memories, Jessie.  I love you.

Good bye Kathy

A dear friend of mine, Kathy is moving to Nashville, Tennessee so that she can be close to her new beautiful granddaughter, Payton.  It is killing a part of me to see Kathy go but I understand completely.  Payton stole Grandma Kathy's heart the day she wrapped her tiny little finger around Kathy's finger and held on tight.  A bond was made that can never be broken.

I met Kathy such a short time ago through our mutual acquaintance and personal trainer, Nelson.  Nelson said we were both "nice ladies" and thought we would work well together.  Little did he know what he was doing when he put these two "nice ladies" together.  We have become the "dynamic duel".  What one doesn't think of the other does.  Kathy loves a good adventure as much as I do.  If you have followed my blog you know about the Mud Run.  Yep, that's right, Kathy is my Mud Run buddy. 

Kathy and I had worked out with our personal trainer for a couple of years. Once Nelson introduced us we realized we no longer needed him.  We had enough training; what we needed was someone to push us.  We now push each other.  Kathy's favorite line is "you are not a wimpy woman, you will do it."  "Wimpy" is me, not Kathy.  Kathy can bench press 165 pounds while I struggle with 65 pounds.  My excuse is that I am a pint size woman but she knows when she yells at me I will do it and then we laugh.  She has me pegged.

Exercise, I love it, I hate it, I love it, --- you get the picture.  What will I do without Kathy my kindred spirit?  One of the reasons I love my exercise is because of this wonderful sweaty, fun girl I workout with.  She hugs me covered in sweat and laughs when I swear and moan in my very own wimpy girl way.  With her I have gotten stronger and embraced new limitations that I've had to face now that I am "older".  She and I have always succeeded in pushing past those painful moments because we share the pain.

What matters most is this friendship we have made sweating together.  She gave me a gift after she moved to Tennessee.  A plague that reads: Good friends are like stars.  You don't always see them, but you know they are always there.    Kathy, you ROCK and I'm going to miss you terribly.

Kris Radish

Hooray! I found Kris Radish's blog.  Kris writes books about the lives of mature women like myself.  Women who have raised their children and their husbands.  Yes, I said husbands.  You didn't know?  Just because a man has reached manhood doesn't mean he is all grown up.  A survey taken 15 or 20 years ago found that young men do not permanently leave home until they are 35 unless they marry.  Mothers do the best they can and then pass the male child on to the unsuspecting young woman who thought she found her knight in shining armour only to find a little boy in big boy pants.  Sorry, he may not be in diapers but he still must have his toys.  And yes, a man's toys are much more expensive than the little boy's.

Oops, I am rambling.  Kris Radish writes about powerful female relationships.  I have read four of her books and just started the fifth.  In every book she writes about women, their strengths, their dreams and their innate power of overcoming challenges.  This is just to prepare you reader, you'll probably have to read about Kris' views on women, children, politics and life in general while I read all her past blogs. 

Girlfriends

The power and importance of female friendship means so much to me.  When I was married to my first husband he could not understand my desire to be with my girlfriends and did all he could to prevent me spending time with them.  He described them as dull unimaginative women and why waste time with them.  I have a special place in my heart for my girlfriends and their problems and joys.  When I am with my girlfriends I feel rich.  My girlfriends don't care that I live in a small two bedroom house in a poor district of town.  There is so much joy in knowing you can be with someone who doesn't judge you.  Someone who accepts you just the way you are.  Something my husband never could quite understand.  His loss.  I kicked him out and added girlfriends to my life.

I get together as often as possible with my friends.  I am blessed with many friends so I usually have at least one day a week that I am with a girlfriend.  Last week I had dinner with a group of ladies I had worked with for years.  We try to get together monthly but it usually is more like every other month because life gets in the way of our outings.  These evenings out are a chance for the ladies to let down their hair, drink, update friends about new adventures in their lives and laughs.  Mostly laughs.  Girlfriends can make me laugh like no one else can.  And so it was with this evening but have you ever had one of those times when from the very beginning you knew this was going to be a night to remember?  That is the way this evening felt.  Each lady told her story but it wasn't just a story.  It was a feeling of joy and exhilaration.  One lady had pictures of the beautiful baby girl she and her husband were in the process of adopting from Korea, another told her experience with her ethologist and another told us of a drunk her propositioned her in a rather unique way in a local bar and on and on.  I laughed so much I thought I'd pee my pants.  These occasions are normally girls only events but this particular evening a man accompanied one of the ladies.  I must say, there must have been some pretty uneasy moments for him throughout the evening.  But for the ladies the evening was much too short.

Our daily routine lives can overwhelm us at times.  Friendships take that stress and turns it upside down.  They turn a stressful world into a nonsensical fun world.  Thought for the day:  It's the friends we meet along life's way who make the trip more fun.  Thank you ladies, I love you.

I'm here for you

Today my favorite author is Patti Digh.  Note, I said today; yesterday Sue Monk Kidd was my favorite and before that Kris Radish.  I love to read and I enjoy a variety of subjects.  My favorite author changes as often as my hair color changes.  Variety is the spice of life; in case you hadn't heard and I'm pretty spicy.

I found Patti Digh's blog a few weeks back.  I have been digesting them slowly every since the discovery.  I have already read two of her books and have found slow mental processing of her books is best.  Her stories come under the heading of Thinkology.  The first time I read her essay I think, "cute clever story" then I go back and read it again and say "Aha".  Don't you just love those Aha! moments?

Today I read her entry in her blog from October 25, 2009, "Stepping Stone Sunday: be a bell".  Her essay begins with a description of her visit to her doctor.  A story that is quite familiar to me and I'm sure many others.  The doctor rushes in and rather than discussing what is going on tells the nurse to set up appointments for blood work to be done.  Then turns to Patti and says "If I can do anything else for you, give us a call."  Understandably Patti just wanted to yell "What is the diagnosis?"

Less than two years ago I had a similar situation with my heart specialist.  I haven't been back since.  Yes, I do understand the importance of consulting a heart specialist especially since six weeks prior to that visit that doctor had put a stynt in one of the veins in my heart.  But when a doctor tells me he wants me to go on a low salt diet and take medicine for cholesterol and to thin my blood but cannot tell me what my cholesterol numbers are, I get a little uneasy.  Those fancy new life saving drugs have some pretty harmful side effects.  When I insisted on more information my doctor left the room, came back a little later; did not walk into the room, merely stuck his head in the room, said "your numbers are normal" and left.  No "thank you very much" or "good bye".  Needless to say, I am not taking the drugs and well not be back.

Patti went on to say she was frustrated by western medical doctors so she went to see her wise acupuncturist who took the time to listen to her.  After their talk, her acupuncturist left her to rest under a heated sheet in a dark room with quiet music.  Before her acupuncturist left her to rest she placed a small silver bell in her hand.  The bell was given to her so that she could summon the acupuncturist if she was needed.  How reassuring to know someone is there for you.

I spoke with a girlfriend from high school about just this today.  Another classmate had recently lost her husband.  The widow asked how long would she grieve.  Her answer; "at least two years maybe longer".  Even the most independent person needs someone at some time.  For the next two years this lady will need her girlfriends and family more than she ever thought possible.  She will need a reassuring smile, a shoulder to cry on or someone to vent her anger to because God took the love of her life way too soon.

As Patti says "I offer you a bell."  If you need me, I'm here for you.  Asking for help or just a hand to hold can be difficult to do so if you don't know how to ask, give me some kind of sign.  I'll be there for you just as others have been there for me when I needed them.

Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder

My little grandson, Wesley has been diagnosed with ADHD.  He absolutely drives his first grade teacher to distraction.  You see it is difficult enough to teach 28 wiggly six year olds but when you add one little boy who finds sitting in his chair longer than 15 minutes at a time painful and simply must run around his desk a couple of times it becomes impossible.  My poor little guy was sent to detention 6 times in the first six weeks of school.  A couple of times he was accused of slapping other children.  It turned out he was spinning round and round with his arms out at his sides.  The other children merely got in the way of the spinning boy top.  He was not being mean.  He is extremely sweet and affectionate.  Actually I have never seen him doing anything mean and little boys quite often are mean.

At first his parents and teacher thought this was simply an immaturity issue but as the school year progressed and his behavior did not get better it was time to discuss his behavioral problems with his pediatrision.  His parents, like me, did not want their son to become a zombie boy who walks around in a medicated fog.  We love this active little person just the way he is.  So why seek professional help?  Because eventually we must all conform to what society says is normal if we are going to be productive and successful adults.  These first years in grade school are crucial to his success later in school and then as an adult out in the working place.

Wesley's problem is not so much activity as it is the inability to focus.  That seems to be a family trait.  My twin sister and two brothers all had difficulties in school focusing in the classroom.  The research on ADHD had not even begun at that time.  Therefore we were branded as day dreamers and had to deal with the problems the best we could.  I'm sure it was not only difficult for us but also for our parents.  I remember one teacher told our parents, Sue and I were very sweet children but would never make it through high school.

I still am unable to focus on one thing for any length of time, but I have learned to work with this impairment.  I believe this is why I am so disorganized.  I normally have five irons in the fire at a time.  In the workplace this is called multi-tasking.  I was quite good at it.  There is a down side to my type of multi-tasking; I bore quickly and go on to the next project.  Quite often I bore of the project before it is completed.  Fortunately I had employees working for me and was able to delegate the completion of a project to someone else.  There is no one at home to complete the many projects I have going on.  On my front porch, the wrought iron railings are old and rusted badly so are quite wobbly.  I purchased new plastic railings two years ago along with resurfacing concrete to repair the badly pitted concrete porch floor.  Around the same time period I decided to widen the sidewalk going up to the front porch.  Both projects are halfway completed.  I have lost all interest in completing these and many other projects because I now have more interesting projects going on.  It looks as though I will have to hire someone to complete these two projects because I do not wish to do it myself any longer.

Now that I have retired this trait makes me "interesting".  No one really knows what I am up to.  I am not concerned about myself.  I have developed coping mechanisms to compensate for some of the so-called impairments, but I do worry about Wesley.  He is a very bright young boy.  Will the medicine slow his active mind down only enough that he can focus on his teacher or will it slow his brain down and numb the creative process?  We have always had day dreamers.  They were the ones who could see beyond the fog and create a "brave new world".   Where would we be without our Albert Einsteins?  Dr. Einstein was born before ADHD research.  How much you wanta bet?  He had ADHD!

My First Retreat

I am so excited and yet scared.  I have just registered to participate in my first retreat, Creative is a Verb. The retreat isn't until April 19, 2012 so I have plenty of time to get my act together and chase my fears and insecurities away.  I wanted to do it this year but chickened out.  The retreat was April 7, 2011 held in North Carolina and was being conducted by one of my favorite authors, Patti Digh.  The reason I am scared is because Patti Digh is so brilliant and funny and everything I want to be.  She writes about not comparing ourselves to others so that we can be all that we were meant to be but when I read one description of her by a man who interviewed her, how can I not be in awe and feel inferior?  This is what one interviewer said about her, "If the Buddha had two kids, a dog named Blue, a Southern accent, and a huge crush on Johnny Depp, his name would be Patti Digh".  She was one of five finalist for the prestigious Books for a Better Life Award and a nominee for a Book of the Year award from the Southern Independent Booksellers Association.   I'm telling you, if you haven't read anything by her you have no idea what your life is missing.  She writes about opening your eyes to see the world in a completely different light.  I just realized I am rambling.  Sorry but I just love her.

One of Patti Digh's first rules to a fuller life is to let go of the expectations of others.  Let go of the fear of what others might say or think.  That is extremely difficult to do.  We have been conditioned since childhood for approval.  At first we look for approval from our parents and then we enter school and our search for approval widens.  We now look for approval from our teachers and our peers.  If you thought it was difficult to receive approval from those who love you, oh baby, you ain't seen nothing yet.  So your ego gets kicked around a lot while growing up.  No wonder children can hardly wait to grow up and leave school.  What a surprise when we then find out it is harder on the "outside".  It can be compared to criminals who first get out of prison.  While in they can hardly wait to get out but then they are confronted with no job, no money and no place to leave.  Sadly that is what happens to our children.  That is why so many return home after being in the "real world" for a short time, just as many criminals return to prison.

I am prepared to risk humiliation for lacking talent just to be in Patti's presence.  I hope that some of her genius will rub off on me.  I have read her latest book, Creative is a Verb, and am trying to live by her six creative commitments that go as follows:

     Be ordinary; put down your clever and come as you are.
     See more; turn around and look.
     Get present; see the beauty in the every day ordinary moments.
     Catch fire; find your passion and live in it.
     Clear ground; stop the clutter.
     Let Go; ignore all the critics.

It sounds so easy as written here but truly isn't, mostly due to the expectations of others.  My first 25 years out of high school gave me some pretty rough times.  During that time I lost my fire, my passion.  For the past 20 years I have been rediscovering that passion and I would put my passion for life up against all others and I think I would win.  Not bad for a woman who once depended on anti-depressants to get through the day.  When you have been on the bottom for years and you find yourself on top it is like taking drugs.  It is addictive and you never want to go back again to that dull lifelessness.  All you want is more!  So I am going to Patti Digh's retreat for some more of that feel good drug called living life as an adventure every day.

My Magic Cottage

My little two bedroom home is usually in disarray.  My closest friends all know I am disorganized and hate housework.  So it is never a surprise to them when they pop in unexpectedly and find books, magazines, my newest artistic endeavors and grandchildren's toys scattered around the living room.  I am convinced that the saying "I understand the concept of housework, but not how it pertains to me" was written by someone who knows me well.  I find housework boring, unimaginative, uninspiring and I can always find something better to do. 

Several years ago I asked a woman I knew from work to join me to a tea party held in a local restaurant.  She was delighted that I would ask her since we didn't know each other well.  She lived some distance away so I insisted she spend the night with me rather than stay in a motel.  After a quick tour of my home she said "I didn't know you were eccentric."  I didn't know if this was a compliment or not until the next morning when she announced she loved my little cottage and thanked me for allowing her to sleep in "The Hat Room". 

You see, I am a want-to-be artist.  I confess, I have very little talent but I enjoy the creative process so much, I don't care if it is good or not.  "The Hat Room" is the small bedroom (both bedrooms are small, it is simply the smallest).  On the door of this room I have painted a lady dressed in a green dress and hat with a peacock feather and with vintage gloves holds a sign stating "This Girl's Gotta Hattitude".  The wall directly across from the entrance has a lattice trellis covered with roses and wisteria painted on it and hanging on the trellis is a collection of vintage hats.  More vintage hats adorn the wall around the dresser mirror and scattered around the room in strategic spots.

I call my home my "Little Magic Cottage" because that is where I make my creative magic.  I got the idea from reading about SARK's "Magic Cottage".  SARK's home used to be a tool shed 180 square feet in size.  My home isn't big but it is enormous compared to hers.  The rooms in my house are my canvas to paint on.

The lavender bedroom is pretty but not very artistic.  I love the room because Les told me it would be ugly.  He visited me when I was putting on the first coat of lavender paint.  When he came back, the room was finished.  I had sponge painted the room with two shades of lavender and white.  He actually touched the walls because he thought I had covered it with wallpaper.  It did my little heart good when he told me he was wrong.  This room has a quaint Victorian look about it.  Very romantic and very me.

I've painted a mural on the walls in my dinky little bathroom.  The walls are covered with whimsical water creatures for the grandchildren's delight.  There is a happy yellow duck watching a hungry frog jump for a unsuspecting dragonfly.  Across the room on another wall a curious turtle watches another dragonfly flit by while a mother bird feeds her three hungry babies, and a big fish flops out of the water to get a closer look at a rabbit sitting on the bank of the pond.  When I was five years old we lived on a farm in Franklin, Illinois.  Our bedroom had cute curtains with children and animals on it.  I don't remember much about those curtains any longer but I do know I loved them.  They were my inspiration for the bathroom.  I wanted to paint something the grandchildren would remember about Grandma's house.

The kitchen is also very small with very little space to decorate.  I covered the dark dreary cabinet doors with some bright white paint and then painted grape vine wreaths decorated with pink roses and lavender wisteria on them.  On the wall over the entrance to the dining room I painted "Life holds special magic for those who dare to dream".

My art studio is in the basement.  The basement floor has a happy sun painted on it.  The rays of the sun are painted with bright designs and inspirational quotes.  The walls are painted orange with "Creativity is not about perfection.  It's about being wild, silly and down right outrageous" painted on them.  I read that motto on a piece of art work by Kelly Roberts and loved it.  Perhaps I will make that my motto to live a happy life.  The desk and work space is bright yellow, red, blue, green and purple.  My art studio is bold and fun. As you may have guessed, the grandchildren have taken over my art studio.  They think it is fun too and since they have much more creative talent than I do, it is only right that they should take it over.

I believe your home should reflect who you are.  It should be a welcome retreat from the harsh world outside.  My home does just that.  Disorganized?  Yes.  A slob?  Yes.  But the important factor is that I am content in knowing who I am and what I love.  I love my family and friends and my creative life.  There was a time in my life when I felt I had to portray a certain type of woman.  The good little housewife.  I am no longer afraid to be me, a wild, wacky, wonderful woman.  Oh, did I forget to mention?  Eccentric?

Tawanda!

Yesterday was an eventful day.  My daughter announced to me her intentions to move her two young daughters and herself in with me and I broke up completely with the man I had been seeing for the last eight months.  Both events occurred because a man assumed certain entitlements just because he's male.  As Simone de Beauvoir's puts it in her book THE SECOND SEX "How fortunate for men that their sovereign authority has been vested in them by the Supreme Being."

Yes, I am down on men today.  I love them but they certainly can be a pain in my dupa (that is ass in Russian).  My daughter's husband has taken it upon himself to harass and treat my daughter like a second class citizen because she has been a stay at home mother since the birth of their second child.  Notice I said since the birth of their second child.  This point he has conveniently forgotten.  At one time she had a job making enough to support herself with a 401 (k) and insurance benefits.  Together as man and wife it was decided she should quit her job to care for the children.  The 401 (k) was cashed in to pay off some outstanding debt so they could afford living on his salary alone.  He then treated her like she wasn't pulling her weight in their union because she was not contributing financially.  It wasn't enough that she was at the children and his beck and call 24/7.

Me, well mine is a different story.  In my first marriage I was the dutiful housewife and mother until the day I woke up.  My awakening seemed sudden at the time but actually it occurred over a span of approximately ten years.  During that time period I went from the obedient little wife who would endure any kind of humiliation to keep my husband happy to a feisty woman who took bull from no one.  It wasn't an easy journey.  You see, I was raised in the traditional American family in which the father was head of the household and no one dared speak against anything he said.  I am still evolving.  I guess that is why I could no longer be Darrell's companion.  Darrell is looking for the good little wife I used to be.  While with him, I could feel myself slip back into that roll.  He is looking for a woman who revolves around him like a planet revolves around the sun.  I am sure if he will continue to search he will find a woman to fill his needs.  However since ERA there are not nearly as many women who fit that description and most of them are going to church and taking care of their husband's many needs.  "Many needs" is the key words to describe Darrell. He wants a woman to serve him.  Darrell is a kind, fun and loving man but I serviced a man for 23 years and it just won't happen again. 

The truth as I see it is I will never marry again.  I am like Evelyn Couch in the movie FRIED GREEN TOMATOES.  For years I was the "Church Lady" who was prim and proper and wouldn't say "shit" if I had a mouth full.  Then I saw the light and even though I haven't rammed any one's car for taking my parking space, I still shout "Tawanda!" if crossed.  I'll do it my way or not at all.

Bad Girls

According to Barbara De Angelio, Ph.D. "The hunger for passion is universal.  Something in human nature longs for that experience of complete emotional absorption, that magical moment when we are swept away, finally free from our everyday rules, restraints, and routines."  Sounds like the Bad Girl Motto to me.

The Bad Girl lives like a rock star.  She is comfortable in her own skin.  She prefers sexy tight fitting clothes showing lots of cleavage and fabulous dangling ear rings and expensive bling on every finger.  When she walks across the room in her four inch stilettos she smiles with pleasure because she knows every man in the joint is watching the well practiced sway of her butt.  And every woman is keeping close tabs on her husband.  Not that the women have anything to worry about.  The Bad Girl kisses but doesn't love, listens to his words of undying devotion but doesn't believe, and then leaves him before she is left.  The Bad Girl is liberated.  She has given herself permission to be naughty.  She is bad to the bone and proud of it.  You won't find her crying in the ladies room because some jealous bitch criticized, attacked, or gossiped about her.

I've had my moments when I felt like a Bad Girl.  Fleeting moments!  I am and always will be a goody goody two shoes but in my dreams I'm a Bad Girl.  I eat what I want to eat, go where I want to go, wear what I want to wear and associate with whomever I please.  So why not?  This is Life 101 not a dress rehearsal.  So when do I start living if not now?

Painting Wine Glasses

Last night when I was suppose to be at the Corvette Club meeting I was happily painting wine glasses.  I am having so much fun painting designs on the glasses.  That is once I got over my insecurities.  Lisa and Robin do such lovely work.  I am a slob.  I have always been a slob. I really have tried to change but it just isn't in my blood.  I think it comes down to me being extremely unorganized, or perhaps it is because I cannot stay focused.  Yes, that is probably it.  I am unorganized because I cannot stay focused.  I jump from one thing to another, never finishing anything..  For instance, this morning I started to go downstairs to do a load of wash but on my way remembered I had promised to send some information to Rene' over facebook.  I got on the computer and sent the information and then John, Steve and Debbie started chatting on facebook with me.  In the meantime, Jennifer came over.  While she worked on the computer I should have started that load of wash, but I didn't.  Instead I started getting my makeup on.  Yes, you are right.  I only got half way through that when I realized I hadn't eaten breakfast and my tummy was complaining.  I fixed oatmeal and while eating that I started cleaning up the kitchen.  Just got started and saw my paints laying out from the night before so I picked up a paint brush and started working on another wine glass.  Since this morning I have done all that plus worked on cleaning up my yard.  The only thing I actually finished was my breakfast.  Now this essay was suppose to be about painting wine glasses.  What happened??

Last night I painted three wine glasses.  They turned out so cute.  One glass has a woman on it holding a wine glass.  The glass has printed on it "I never had a problem that a Girl's Night Out couldn't solve" and around the bottom it says "Wine a little, you'll feel better".  The second glass has sweets painted on it.  Cupcakes, banana split, cookies and candies.  Printed on the glass is "Dessert Queen, I'll start my diet on Monday and The way to a woman's heart is chocolate".  This one is for Debbie.  Darrell thinks I am being mean but I don't think so.  I really think she'll love it.  I'll bet if she had seen it at a shop, this is the one she would choose.  The third glass is for Sue's 60th birthday.  It simply has balloons, candles and cupcakes on it wishing her a happy birthday.  Around the bottom of the glass I wrote Aged to Perfection.  The glasses aren't perfect but they did turn out real cute.  I started painting a fourth glass today.  This one will have different alcholic beverages on it and time pieces and state "It's 5 o'clock somewhere".  One of the women from the corvette club has one and I really like it.

OK, the washing is still waiting for me.  It looks like it is going to rain and my truck is full of yard waste that needs to be dumped before the rain starts and I still haven't gotten my makeup on.  Not only that but my tummy is complaining again.  Talk to you good folks later.

The Sisterhood of Women

Today I have my darling daughter on my mind and as always in my heart.  She is evolving into an extraordinary woman; not that I have ever seen her as ordinary in anyway.  She doesn't see the changes in herself but did any of us?  When we got out of high school our parents had high hopes and expectations for us.  We were simply scared children acting like grownups.  We might have bragged about what we were going to do but we didn't know how the hell we were going to accomplish those great deeds.  Secretly we wanted to do so much more than what our parents wanted from us.  We were going to be super stars, first woman president, entrepreneurs and CEO of our own business.  Some of us were successful, but most were afraid to even say this out loud for fear of being ridiculed let alone pursue these great careers.  Most had failed in the past and had felt the hot dragon's breath breathing down our necks telling us over and over again that we weren't good enough.  As time went by some learned as did Eleanor Roosevelt, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent".  We made mistakes, we stumbled and got up again, stronger for the experience.

So it is with my daughter.  My sweet beautiful little girl who never thought she was quite good enough, pretty enough, or smart enough.  Now she is approaching middle age going through a divorce with two children, a part-time job and a husband who balks at every request for assistance.  But adversity is a funny thing.  For some it helps them develop self confidence and an inner strength they did not know they possessed while others give up and crawl under a rock never to be heard from again.  My baby is slowly growing and turning into the woman she was meant to be.  She has earned new respect from the people she works with and the mother's of her daughters' friends.  She is finding herself and in doing that she is becoming her own best friend.  My little girl is learning to trust herself and turning her cant's into cans.

She still has an important lesson to learn.  Perhaps she has learned this lesson and has not conveyed this information to me, but I have discovered I am fortunate to be a woman.  I was so busy making a living and taking care of my family I did not learn this lesson until the last few years.  There is a sisterhood among women.  We will stand by one another through thick and thin.  In one book I read, this connection was described as an invisible golden string that was attached to all women's hearts.  When women have other women friends the string becomes taunt between them.  If one woman stumbles, the heart string becomes tight and supports the woman so that she does not fall.  Friends support each other without condition or without any expectation of gain.  Women have a natural God given talent for this.  Friends come through with flying colors to surround you with joy and sharing their strengths.  The secret of my joyful life is my girlfriends.

Just a little Ranting

Why is it that everyone wants a piece of me?  I am way behind on everything because I have been working on this silly blog and it has become addictive.  Plus I just got back from Texas with my father.  Now my phone doesn't stop ringing.  All the family wants to know how the trip went.  How did the "ole man get along?"  Even my brother who never calls called this morning and kept me on the phone for 2 hours.  I think we have answers for all the world problems.  Most of his are 'Blow them up" but he does have answers. Right or wrong!  Then of course my sweet baby girl is going through a divorce so she needs her mom to rant to.  A dear girlfriend of mine that only see once in a blue moon wants me to help her train for a 5 K walk/run and decorate for her daughters wedding.   I want to listen to all of them.  I want to help all of them because I love them but this is my dilemma; the yard needs racked and cleaned up after a long winter, windows need to be washed, I have to go to the Social Security Office because I have lost my 1099 (probably shredded, got too efficient LOL)and April 15th is less than 2 weeks away, Darrell wants help chopping wood, I can't find my way to my craft room because the grand kids played store there, if I don't get to the store to buy staples like toilet paper I will be forced to use the newspapers that are piling up because I don't have time to read them, my recycle pile has overflowed into the middle of the kitchen floor,and I must organize my research papers so I can continue to work on my book.  That is just a few items that I must get done.  But then I remember how blessed I am to have these people in my life.  People who love me, need me and respect my opinions.  OK, finished with my ranting.  I've got work to do! Bye.

Life's short

Since Les' death I have been going through this life of mine as a sleepwalker.  Occasionally waking and stepping out of the fog, but eventually going back to dreamland.  It is time to wake up.  I owe it to my friends and family who have stood by me while I have mourned the loss of my lover and also to a fine man who seeks my companionship.  I cannot guarantee that I will ever be able to return his love, but I owe it to him to give him a chance.

Darrell proposed to me this past weekend.  I was taken by surprise and in haste told him no.  I regret my harsh reaction.  I was unprepared for that all important question.  I know my answer hurt him and for that I am deeply sorry.  Just the same the answer still remains no.  Just two weeks earlier I had asked him to slow down.  I thought he understood that my heart was still raw from grief.

His question has served as a wake-up call.  As a reminder that our existence here on earth is only temporary and that our time is fleeting.  Life is too short to hold back.  When I was growing up I watched my mother make out lists.  She made the usual grocery and to-do lists.  I was never much on lists.  I was impressed by her organizational skills but I always had so many irons in the fire that I thought I didn't have time to make up the lists let alone consult them.  It seemed nearly impossible to make time for a list.  There simply was never enough hours in the day.

Perhaps I was wrong.  What if my thinking was backward?  Could I have possibly done more if I had kept lists?  My mother was only 57 when she died.  Too young.  Was she able to complete all the activities she had on her lists?  A couple of weeks ago I made up a Bucket List.  Most of the items on the list were just for fun.  Nothing truly serious.  Darrell's proposal made me realize life is short and it is time to make up another list.  Here goes:
     1. Stop being afraid.  What have I got to lose?
     2. Let go.  Stop holding on to the past.
     3. Get rid of junk.  Simplify, downsize.
     4. Take time to read the classics.  They are called "classics" for a reason.  Find out why.
     5. Take some time to indulge in anything I want.  Eat, drink, be merry.  Get a massage.
     6. Travel and explore.
     7. Take myself to confession.  Rid myself of old guilts.  Make my penance easy on me.
     8. Imagine what it would be like to fall in love again.  It doesn't have to be Darrell but don't give up on       love.
     9. Buy a convertible.  Something flashy.  Red or yellow.  Put the top down and drive someplace without thinking about it.

     10. Create daily.  Use every ounce of talent God gave me.
     11. Go into a store that has removed all price labels and just buy whatever the hell I want.  Buy without worrying about the cost.
     12. Buy a fancy formal dress.  A Cinderella dress and wear it someplace wild and wonderful.
     13. Look at myself naked - physically and psychologically and spiritually.  Accept what I see.
     14. Stop doubting myself.
     15. Tell the people I love that I love them.
     16. Take a painting class and/or pottery class
     17. Forgive and forget.
     18. Make new friends, all ages and personalities.
     19. Stop following all the rules.  Drink wine before noon.
     20. Go see more plays.
     21. Call on all the people in my address books.  All those people I haven't seen for years.
     22. Organize a cousin reunion.
     23. Get over your technophobia.
     24. Publish my book.
     25. Expand my horizons.  Keep my options open and do something remarkable.

I plan to live to the ripe old age of 100.  However you don't get to choose when you're going to die.  You can decide how you're going to live now.  In the next 40 years I will continue to evolve and define who I am and what I will do with this precious life of mine.  How about you?

I am not a failure- well not completely

Wow, it took me two days but I found my new blog.  This is turning out to be much more difficult than I had expected.  I actually realize it is going to be difficult for me.  But I have to give myself credit for perseverance.  As much as I wanted to give up and start a new one, I knew I had to figure this out or I would continue to make the same mistake.

Things happen for a reason.  I was breaking down and thinking about spending more time with Darrell.  Maybe even eventually asking him to marry me but not for a couple of years.  Then Darrell calls and says he won't be home for a couple more hours.  Go home or stay, or run errands, whatever I need to do. So I'm watching the birds and trying to decide what to do when Kathy texts me saying she won't be exercising with me.  Oh Bother, now what?  That is when I realize I can't wait around for others to lead me.  I have things I want to do so get off my lazy butt and do it.  I am going to Les' house and pick up rocks in the rain to paint on.  Go to GNC for vitamins, etc.  Then Denise Tellor called to say Amanda is engage.  Now I also have a wedding to help plan.  I also must get on the Internet to look for work from home.  -- So Darrell you will just have to wait.  Sorry!

Lately I have been experiencing some depression.  Nothing serious.  I have been off my depression meds for several months - probably a year.  Until recently I have had no problems.  It is probably being brought on by the pressure of Darrell wanting me to return his love.  I must be a lot like his dear departed wife who he loved with his whole heart for 40 years.  He wants that same relationship with me.  Since my personality is much like her I am falling right into her shoes.  That would be great but I am still mourning the loss of my dear Les.  Darrell is nothing like Les.  That may be good.  Darrell is probably good for me but I just can't seem to get to that place in my relationship with him.

So here is a little poem I wrote about me.

Life is Short
So go ahead
Look Silly
Dance and sing in the rain.
Bask in the Sunshine
Go Barefoot
Feel the grass underfoot
Be Bold
Walk barefoot through the mud
Fee mud ooze between your toes
Find your Inner Child
Spend the day with her.
She is fun and so are You!

Now off I am going o be bold and paint some funny wine glasses.  Poor Debbie.  I have decided on a design for her.  Hope she has a good sense of humor.