Thursday, March 24, 2011
Cocktail, schmocktail.
What the heck is a cocktail dress anyway? I'm about the most unfeminine woman I know, and this very Saturday I have to come up with a DRESS to wear to my brother's wedding. Yes, my baby brother is getting married. I distinctly remember changing his diaper a time or two and winding the crank on his swing when it stopped and the little shit started crying. Ah, but he was cute. And I was so happy to hold him and play tricks on him when I was a mischievous 9 year old and he was a gullible 3 year old. I quite happily convinced him that my feet could talk one day. I tried to play with his "boy" toys even though I was girl(ish). And I used to watch him walk around the yard with a stick in his hand pretending to be He-Man - making sure he didn't wander out of sight. On our tire swing that hung from a very high limb on one of our dad's 200 year old oak trees, Josh could really swing dangerously high. We were always afraid that thing would break and he'd go sailing into the yard smashing every bone in his body. I think my father really believed Josh wouldn't live to be 10 years old. But he did. The little guy is now 30. And he's getting married. Ah...but forget nostalgia. Now the pressure's on for me to find a stinkin' dress to wear to his wedding and I haven't the foggiest idea of where to start. What the heck is a cocktail dress?
Monday, March 7, 2011
Read this book by Jessica Jewett
I read this in ONE NIGHT! If you have a Kindle or Kindle program on your iPhone it's only $4.99. Amazing narrative from an amazing lady about her past life as Fanny Chamberlin (wife of famous Civil War soldier Lawrence Chamberlin) and her reincarnation to her present life. Very inspiring story. Open your minds and your hearts to the possibilities, and support independent publishing at the same time. Definitely grabs the reader from the first page to the last. I didn't want it to end! Two great things to compliment the book, only after you've read it, are to watch the movies Gods & Generals and Gettysburg. I have always been very interested in the Civil War since being exposed to it in my 11th grade U.S. history class. I was in the theater the first night when Gods & Generals came out (even though I had my wisdom teeth out that day)! I have also visited the Gettysburg battlegrounds several times - which is something everyone who lives in America should do at some point in your life. It doesn't matter where you're from, North or South, a lot of tragedy took place there, and you kind of have to see it in person to understand how huge it really was. Put it on your bucket list.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Hello Grief, come sit a while.
A few years ago, I totally lost myself in sorrow. When three of my relatives died within a 4 month period, I just got so sad that I looked so hard for a diversion that I couldn't see straight. I made mistakes. At some point in time in life I guess we all do. We all screw up and we can blame it on whatever makes us feel justified, but what I know now is that I wasn't justified simply because of the pain I felt. That was then - this is now. Now I feel the onset of that same overwhelming sorrow. What I think I have learned is to just SIT in it. Let myself feel the pain each day until it begins to lighten up - that is, not to try and escape it, but to feel it wash over me, acknowledge it for what it is (grief) and then try to release it each day.
I lost my aunt, as you know, about 11 days ago. Yesterday I found out that a new friend, a person I'd recently tried hard to help and then strangely gotten attached to, died in the wee hours of the morning. Someone reminded me that death comes in "3's." I'm trying to ignore this superstition because I don't know that my heart can take another loss right now. Normally I'm chatty, feel pretty okay about life, despite my sometimes stressful job. Right now, I don't want to talk. I don't have anything to say but a simple question to the Universe - "Why?" I know that death is a part of life. And if I didn't already get this notion, my job would have taught me well over the last three years. But lately it seems that people are dying in middle age - in their 40's, 50's, and 60's. And a lot of people are dying. I'm sure it's proportional to the population - maybe a result too of our toxic environment. The Bible says that our days are numbered from the start - that God knows when each of us will go. It's predetermined how and when we die. I don't know about that necessarily because some things just seem so freakishly odd that I just can't figure how or why it should have gone down that way. But then, I don't have that supreme understanding of the way the world works. I wish I did.
Right now I guess I'm gonna concentrate on being sad. Sounds weird doesn't it? 6 years ago I was doing everything I could to distract myself from the sadness, but that lesson is learned. There's no escaping what the heart truly feels. An old adage tells us not to wallow in sorrow or self pity, but I say that you should - at least for a time. If you don't feel it, sort through it, try to understand and come to terms with it - then it will eventually catch up to you anyway. Like that day in 2005 when I bit down into an old lady's teacake cookie and cried for half an hour. The taste of that cookie reminded me of my Granny whose loss I hadn't fully mourned. Grief sneaks up on you throughout your life. You'll never really be finished with it. It does get easier though, as I finally learned once I let myself know that heavy-hearted, there's an elephant standing on my chest - feeling. Sooner or later the elephant doesn't feel so heavy, doesn't take your breath away quite as bad, kinda backs over into the corner of that room in our minds where we store the painful stuff that is quite definitely part of living a full life. The heart takes chances we sometimes can't help. We love when we do - and there's no choosing who we love and when that love takes hold of us. That love that we feel, that genuine concern for another person above and beyond what we feel for ourselves - that is where the grief comes from. But as another old saying goes, "tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all."
I lost my aunt, as you know, about 11 days ago. Yesterday I found out that a new friend, a person I'd recently tried hard to help and then strangely gotten attached to, died in the wee hours of the morning. Someone reminded me that death comes in "3's." I'm trying to ignore this superstition because I don't know that my heart can take another loss right now. Normally I'm chatty, feel pretty okay about life, despite my sometimes stressful job. Right now, I don't want to talk. I don't have anything to say but a simple question to the Universe - "Why?" I know that death is a part of life. And if I didn't already get this notion, my job would have taught me well over the last three years. But lately it seems that people are dying in middle age - in their 40's, 50's, and 60's. And a lot of people are dying. I'm sure it's proportional to the population - maybe a result too of our toxic environment. The Bible says that our days are numbered from the start - that God knows when each of us will go. It's predetermined how and when we die. I don't know about that necessarily because some things just seem so freakishly odd that I just can't figure how or why it should have gone down that way. But then, I don't have that supreme understanding of the way the world works. I wish I did.
Right now I guess I'm gonna concentrate on being sad. Sounds weird doesn't it? 6 years ago I was doing everything I could to distract myself from the sadness, but that lesson is learned. There's no escaping what the heart truly feels. An old adage tells us not to wallow in sorrow or self pity, but I say that you should - at least for a time. If you don't feel it, sort through it, try to understand and come to terms with it - then it will eventually catch up to you anyway. Like that day in 2005 when I bit down into an old lady's teacake cookie and cried for half an hour. The taste of that cookie reminded me of my Granny whose loss I hadn't fully mourned. Grief sneaks up on you throughout your life. You'll never really be finished with it. It does get easier though, as I finally learned once I let myself know that heavy-hearted, there's an elephant standing on my chest - feeling. Sooner or later the elephant doesn't feel so heavy, doesn't take your breath away quite as bad, kinda backs over into the corner of that room in our minds where we store the painful stuff that is quite definitely part of living a full life. The heart takes chances we sometimes can't help. We love when we do - and there's no choosing who we love and when that love takes hold of us. That love that we feel, that genuine concern for another person above and beyond what we feel for ourselves - that is where the grief comes from. But as another old saying goes, "tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all."
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Mothers
Steve Harvey is a great comedian. I vividly remember watching him on Kings of Comedy tell a great story about how women really needed to "build a man." One man simply cannot do all the things that a woman needs, so she must build a man using about 4 different types of men to get satisfaction out of her life. One had to be rich, one gay, one old, one vibrant and sexy...and the joke went on. It was really funny and I still smile when I think of it. Not such a crazy idea really.
The Indigo Girls wrote a song years ago called "Kid Fears." It's about having a tough childhood, and there's a line in there about how we should "replace the ones that we love." This is what I had to do.
I was very young when my mother and father divorced, too young to remember the loss on the day it happened. I have no idea what my parents argued about, how it all went down, the looks on their faces, the things she packed when she left. All I know is that the loss I can't remember, the thing that changed my life forever, has hurt me all these years. I hardly ever heard from my mother after she left. But in that empty space, there was a soft spot for me to fall some days - most days even.
If Steve Harvey could tell the story, he'd say I built myself a mother.
My Granny was there almost everyday as I grew. I lived with her part of those years. She cooked for me, took care of me when I was sick, talked to me and instilled values in me. When I was sad she'd hold me close in bed beside her, tell me stories, pat me on the back. She was a gift to me all the years I had her. Then she was gone.
My Aunt Sharon was my oh so cool aunt. She took me school shopping when I was little, let me spend nights at her house with my cousins, took us to the mall when we were teens, and she thought I was smart. I loved that she called me for my opinion when I got older. She was the one who told me when I was 21 that I wouldn't know who I was until I was at least 30. She was right. I'm 36 and I'm still baffled by some things. Two months before Granny died, we lost Sharon to a hard-fought battle with cancer.
My Aunt Barbara was the last in my trio of mother figures. She was a lot like Granny in that she was a great cook, and tried her best to keep our family grounded after so much loss. She was very funny, had strong arms and gave tight hugs. Just a few weeks ago she brought a bunch of clothes over for my daughter. She'd been shopping and found a deal. She thought of me like another one of her own. I can't tell you how many weekends I spent with her as a child. I always felt safe and loved in her presence. I remember that she gave me a lot of touch - held me in her lap, ran her fingers through my hair, hugged me tight every time I saw her. And tragically, she is now gone too. We lost her on Sunday. My family will never be the same.
The sadness I feel right now might not be temporary. It might be permanent. I'm in a dark place for sure. When I was in my 20's I remember Hootie and The Blowfish had a song about a "motherless child." I always identified with it because I felt like when I was small I wore a big banner that said, hey...here's a kid whose own mother didn't love her enough to stay. But all these years later I know that isn't how the situation actually played out. Their divorce wasn't my fault. My mother's love for me isn't easily understood by me or anyone else. People have flaws. Myself included.
But now that it's all said and done I realize I wasn't a motherless child. Even though they didn't give birth to me, they were all three mothers to me. They all loved me and helped me through my life. If I had truly been alone I wouldn't be able to feel such pointed sorrow right now. I guess it is better to have loved and lost than to have never felt that love at all. I'm going to try to remember the good times, the times we laughed so hard we couldn't even talk...and when we went on crazy adventures together. When you're young, and even now, you never know when you might be building a memory that will stand the test of time, that you'll hold close in your darkest hour. That memory that might circulate in your brain over and over and over again and hopefully bring you some peace.
So as you continue to live your life, don't just go through the motions. Take time to say I love you. Make time for each other. Build your house with memories, and fill your heart with love. These are the things that matter.
The Indigo Girls wrote a song years ago called "Kid Fears." It's about having a tough childhood, and there's a line in there about how we should "replace the ones that we love." This is what I had to do.
I was very young when my mother and father divorced, too young to remember the loss on the day it happened. I have no idea what my parents argued about, how it all went down, the looks on their faces, the things she packed when she left. All I know is that the loss I can't remember, the thing that changed my life forever, has hurt me all these years. I hardly ever heard from my mother after she left. But in that empty space, there was a soft spot for me to fall some days - most days even.
If Steve Harvey could tell the story, he'd say I built myself a mother.
My Granny was there almost everyday as I grew. I lived with her part of those years. She cooked for me, took care of me when I was sick, talked to me and instilled values in me. When I was sad she'd hold me close in bed beside her, tell me stories, pat me on the back. She was a gift to me all the years I had her. Then she was gone.
My Aunt Sharon was my oh so cool aunt. She took me school shopping when I was little, let me spend nights at her house with my cousins, took us to the mall when we were teens, and she thought I was smart. I loved that she called me for my opinion when I got older. She was the one who told me when I was 21 that I wouldn't know who I was until I was at least 30. She was right. I'm 36 and I'm still baffled by some things. Two months before Granny died, we lost Sharon to a hard-fought battle with cancer.
My Aunt Barbara was the last in my trio of mother figures. She was a lot like Granny in that she was a great cook, and tried her best to keep our family grounded after so much loss. She was very funny, had strong arms and gave tight hugs. Just a few weeks ago she brought a bunch of clothes over for my daughter. She'd been shopping and found a deal. She thought of me like another one of her own. I can't tell you how many weekends I spent with her as a child. I always felt safe and loved in her presence. I remember that she gave me a lot of touch - held me in her lap, ran her fingers through my hair, hugged me tight every time I saw her. And tragically, she is now gone too. We lost her on Sunday. My family will never be the same.
The sadness I feel right now might not be temporary. It might be permanent. I'm in a dark place for sure. When I was in my 20's I remember Hootie and The Blowfish had a song about a "motherless child." I always identified with it because I felt like when I was small I wore a big banner that said, hey...here's a kid whose own mother didn't love her enough to stay. But all these years later I know that isn't how the situation actually played out. Their divorce wasn't my fault. My mother's love for me isn't easily understood by me or anyone else. People have flaws. Myself included.
But now that it's all said and done I realize I wasn't a motherless child. Even though they didn't give birth to me, they were all three mothers to me. They all loved me and helped me through my life. If I had truly been alone I wouldn't be able to feel such pointed sorrow right now. I guess it is better to have loved and lost than to have never felt that love at all. I'm going to try to remember the good times, the times we laughed so hard we couldn't even talk...and when we went on crazy adventures together. When you're young, and even now, you never know when you might be building a memory that will stand the test of time, that you'll hold close in your darkest hour. That memory that might circulate in your brain over and over and over again and hopefully bring you some peace.
So as you continue to live your life, don't just go through the motions. Take time to say I love you. Make time for each other. Build your house with memories, and fill your heart with love. These are the things that matter.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Criminal Minds: how did I miss this?
I never watch television. I mean never...until recently. You see, my new roommate Jennifer introduced me to a show called Criminal Minds. Holy Cow! Last night, I watched 4 straight episodes of this show - now you must understand that my husband was conked out asleep on the couch (sitting up, quite impressive), Jennifer was at work, and I was holding Sarah and carefully monitoring her out-of-control fever outta nowhere that cropped up in the wee hours of the morning Friday. But passing the time watching really smart sexy people use their cunning brain skills to catch the bad guy made for a whopping good time!
It isn't that I have anything against television, it's just that I don't like fiction. I don't like sit-coms or reality shows or cartoons or infomercials. I don't like re-runs of old-ass shows that weren't good the first time around either. I used to like Days of Our Lives but then the plot got so slow I could keep up by watching a half dozen episodes a year so I just quit altogether. I don't like to watch sports, save Georgia football, and I don't like MTV or VH1. I certainly don't like wrestling or obscure documentaries about tools used thousands of years ago by early ape-like humans.
However, I do PAY for television. Odd as it may seem, my husband is a television addict (certified) and I've enabled his nasty habit for years now by shelling out the cash to subscribe. It's too bad he hasn't taken the initiative to go on some t.v. trivia gameshow to win some money. Anyway, in the last couple of weeks since I've starting watching this totally amazing show, I know he dreads seeing me come into the room with that "lemme have that remote mister" look on my face. Too bad. I'd say fifteen years of getting to watch whatever he wanted is enough. It's time I finally felt like I was getting my money's worth on my cable bill!
If you haven't had the time or energy to catch this show, do yourself the favor. It's pretty darn cool. Also in it's 6th season, so I am embarrassed to have not caught on to this until now, however excited that I can now spend hours upon hours catching up on all the action! I even checked out the online store for cool stuff but only found the DVDs and a t-shirt that I wouldn't wear. I'm not buying the DVDs because while it would make sense to watch them in order to follow the storyline a bit better, I finally can justify spending mucho dollars on my cable service. C'mon now. Let's all breathe a big sigh of relief. I know I feel better.
http://www.cbs.com/primetime/criminal_minds/
It isn't that I have anything against television, it's just that I don't like fiction. I don't like sit-coms or reality shows or cartoons or infomercials. I don't like re-runs of old-ass shows that weren't good the first time around either. I used to like Days of Our Lives but then the plot got so slow I could keep up by watching a half dozen episodes a year so I just quit altogether. I don't like to watch sports, save Georgia football, and I don't like MTV or VH1. I certainly don't like wrestling or obscure documentaries about tools used thousands of years ago by early ape-like humans.
However, I do PAY for television. Odd as it may seem, my husband is a television addict (certified) and I've enabled his nasty habit for years now by shelling out the cash to subscribe. It's too bad he hasn't taken the initiative to go on some t.v. trivia gameshow to win some money. Anyway, in the last couple of weeks since I've starting watching this totally amazing show, I know he dreads seeing me come into the room with that "lemme have that remote mister" look on my face. Too bad. I'd say fifteen years of getting to watch whatever he wanted is enough. It's time I finally felt like I was getting my money's worth on my cable bill!
If you haven't had the time or energy to catch this show, do yourself the favor. It's pretty darn cool. Also in it's 6th season, so I am embarrassed to have not caught on to this until now, however excited that I can now spend hours upon hours catching up on all the action! I even checked out the online store for cool stuff but only found the DVDs and a t-shirt that I wouldn't wear. I'm not buying the DVDs because while it would make sense to watch them in order to follow the storyline a bit better, I finally can justify spending mucho dollars on my cable service. C'mon now. Let's all breathe a big sigh of relief. I know I feel better.
http://www.cbs.com/primetime/criminal_minds/
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Halloween 2010
The first thing Sarah asked me on Halloween morning this year was if she could have pink hair. My cousin gave us a hand-me-down rock star costume that is pink, I purchased a little pink skull bucket for her to collect her treats in so I guess she figured her hair ought to be pink too. All day long she begged me to carve the pumpkin. Granted, I should have already had that done - but alas, I am a slacker. So just before noon I gave in and we carved the pumpkin, which she immediately made me start calling the "jack-o-lantern." Later I forced her to take a nap, which she whined about. When she awoke we made her take a bath, which she also whined about. Then Jennifer glittered and glammed her hair and face to make her a pretty rock star, and she whined some then too. Then she whined about the sun not going down fast enough so she could go trick or treating. When it finally was time, after nearly 12 hours of pure parental torture, we headed out the door and walked straight to the neighbors house. Not only did Sarah refuse to ring the doorbell and say 'trick or treat,' I had to PUSH her to walk up the sidewalk to their door! This continued for the next ten houses until she finally asked to go home. She might have mustered an audible 'trick or treat' once or twice, and maybe a 'thank you' too amongst our threats of never ever taking her trick or treating again if she didn't.
When we arrived home, we grabbed our bucket of candy, turned on the porch light and lit the jack-o-lantern. This is when the child came alive. She had a blast giving out candy to all the trick-or-treaters that darted our door. We still had to remind her to say "you're welcome" but at least she seemed like she was enjoying something after such a long day of begging and whining. Tis better to give than to receive I suppose. At least she gets it honest.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Cancer sucks.
Alas! I am a terrible blogger lately. Believe me, it isn't for lack of things to say - it is mostly for lack of time to write, because of me putting other things and people first, and for general happiness all around.
The move back to our house generated quite a few other changes as well. We have a new roommate - Jennifer - who came with her two feline children Omar and Poncho. All in all, it's been a pretty smooth adjustment that has meant more love and friendship in my life.
In a few days it will be October - the leaves will start falling and everyone will start wearing pink again. October is Breast Cancer Awareness month and it always makes me sad. Usually at some point I come to tears. You see, I lost someone very special nearly 6 years ago now - my sweet Aunt Sharon.
She was first diagnosed at age 31 I believe, in 1989, and went through lots of chemo, radiation, and a full mastectomy. Awful for her for sure, and awful for my 14 year old brain too. Fifteen years after her first diagnosis, her cancer comes back as osteosarcoma (probably a result of all that radiation) and turns deadly. We tried to save her - including two trips to Houston's MD Anderson hospital, but she couldn't withstand the chemo regimen they needed her to go through and she stopped after only 2 or 3 treatments.
When she died my grief was immeasurable. I plowed my face into my pillow and screamed - beating the bed with clinched fists in my heart's utter torment. It was just awful - she was only 48 years old. She had grandchildren she wanted to play with, and she had children who still needed her even though they were grown. I still needed her; we all did.
I finally got up the nerve to go back to her house this past Sunday - to visit my cousin there where she now lives, to be in that space again where I always remember my Aunt Sharon living. Her touches are still there, very viable - still very present. But I did not feel her spirit there anymore and I can only hope that means that she is at peace with her passing, that she is carefully watching over us from beyond what we can know about yet.
Several days before I dreamed of her - she and I and my cousins sitting in that very living room. Perhaps she is the one who visited me in my dream and suggested that I go ahead and go. She must know that I have grieved a million times for her, have cried oh so many tears because of the injustice of it all, have wanted to ask her a thousand questions, and have wanted to show her my child.
So I went, and I didn't even cry. I took Jennifer with me - and she was up to the task of being just the ears I needed to hear my thoughts that day. And I hope, through all of the space and time, that there was another soul out there hearing about how much I still love and miss her. This one's for you Aunt Sharon!
The move back to our house generated quite a few other changes as well. We have a new roommate - Jennifer - who came with her two feline children Omar and Poncho. All in all, it's been a pretty smooth adjustment that has meant more love and friendship in my life.
In a few days it will be October - the leaves will start falling and everyone will start wearing pink again. October is Breast Cancer Awareness month and it always makes me sad. Usually at some point I come to tears. You see, I lost someone very special nearly 6 years ago now - my sweet Aunt Sharon.
She was first diagnosed at age 31 I believe, in 1989, and went through lots of chemo, radiation, and a full mastectomy. Awful for her for sure, and awful for my 14 year old brain too. Fifteen years after her first diagnosis, her cancer comes back as osteosarcoma (probably a result of all that radiation) and turns deadly. We tried to save her - including two trips to Houston's MD Anderson hospital, but she couldn't withstand the chemo regimen they needed her to go through and she stopped after only 2 or 3 treatments.
When she died my grief was immeasurable. I plowed my face into my pillow and screamed - beating the bed with clinched fists in my heart's utter torment. It was just awful - she was only 48 years old. She had grandchildren she wanted to play with, and she had children who still needed her even though they were grown. I still needed her; we all did.
I finally got up the nerve to go back to her house this past Sunday - to visit my cousin there where she now lives, to be in that space again where I always remember my Aunt Sharon living. Her touches are still there, very viable - still very present. But I did not feel her spirit there anymore and I can only hope that means that she is at peace with her passing, that she is carefully watching over us from beyond what we can know about yet.
Several days before I dreamed of her - she and I and my cousins sitting in that very living room. Perhaps she is the one who visited me in my dream and suggested that I go ahead and go. She must know that I have grieved a million times for her, have cried oh so many tears because of the injustice of it all, have wanted to ask her a thousand questions, and have wanted to show her my child.
So I went, and I didn't even cry. I took Jennifer with me - and she was up to the task of being just the ears I needed to hear my thoughts that day. And I hope, through all of the space and time, that there was another soul out there hearing about how much I still love and miss her. This one's for you Aunt Sharon!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)