lite bleu

liar, liar, pants on fire.

2011-10-07T12:48:00.000-05:00

So many things are happening and not happening that I'm a bit lost.

Lost because I'm not writing. Lost because when I try nothing comes to mind. Lost because I finally realized that there is simply not enough time in each day to do the things I want. Lost because I want to stop the world for just awhile. Lost because I can't find time to meditate, or laugh with my husband, or cook food I like to eat. Lost because I want every day to be Saturday.

Fretting one day about how to make all of these things happen I had an awakening. All the women who blog about how you can stay up all night and write compelling copy - after eight or more hours at you day job, cooking, doing laundry, bathing your 4-year-old, reading bedtime stories, bathing, watering all the plants, feeding the dogs and cats, and catching up on Project Runway - are just big fat liars.

If they're not big fat liars, than they must be superhuman.

While most of them admit that it's difficult, they still maintain that it's doable. I just don't see it.

My typical day begins at 5:30 a.m. when I reluctantly pull myself out from under the (warm and oh-so-cozy) covers and head for the coffee pot. After getting myself ready for work I get my son ready for daycare and we're out the door by 6:45. I meet the carpool at 7, arrive at my day job by 8. After trying to be an effective marketing copywriter for 8 hours, I jump back into the car, arriving back at home at 6-ish. I sit for a minute, indulge in a single cigarette, and start dinner. I talk to Scout and Steve about their days while we eat dinner, then clean up. After dinner it's a short time for free play, followed by bedtime rituals. At 9:15, Scout is usually asleep, leaving me approximately one hour and 45 minutes to do what I want if I want to get at least six hours of sleep. During this time I must take care of my own grooming as well as be sure that regular household maintenance is handled.

The big decisions become:

Can I skip a bath tonight?
Do I really want to watch Project Runway, or should I finish that book on time management?
Can I start working on a new project, or should I just write a quick blog post?
Should I check my twitter feed?
When is the last time I called my sister?
Are thank you notes really necessary?
Can I quiet my mind enough to meditate?
Yoga?
Steve? I know I have a husband around here somewhere.

So no. I don't believe you when you say that it can be done. At least not in my world.

If you still claim it's possible, I have a few questions for you.

When is the last time you washed your hair?
Do you have pets?
A maid?
A stay-at-home husband?
Do you simply buy new clothes when the others are dirty?

Perhaps I'm just unproductive, worthless, a wannabe.

Or maybe not. Maybe I'm a real woman who juggles life in the best way I can. I work hard, have fascinating thoughts, love my husband, take good care of my son, and find time to laugh.

And once in awhile, I write about it.

lizards and other things

2011-08-02T22:10:00.003-05:00

I know there is something sacred in every living thing, but this week has me trying desperately to figure out just why we have decided that it's a good thing to have six pets in the house.

Here's the thing. I was never really a pet person. Perhaps it's because most of my childhood pets were not the kid-friendly type. They didn't, as far as I can remember, wag thier tails when I came to the door. And it wasn't all their fault. I suppose my very first pet, Jaime the white mouse, just wasn't equipped to do that sort of canine thing.

The other problem was my mother, who was the farthest thing from a pet person. It was definitely a strong-arm sort of thing when my cousins brought Jaime to the house as a gift for me. She grudgingly gave in after unending begging on my part, and let me keep the mouse. Poor Jaime didn't last long. One day I came home from Kindergarten to find that he had been baked "accidently" when my mom moved the smelly cage outside to clean it, and conveniently forgot that mice don't last long in the hot sun.

Next came Prissy the Chihuahua, the offspring of my Tennessee cousins' dogs Inky and Chocolate. She too was a gift. A neurotic, yappy, nervous gift. Prissy was not allowed to venture far from the kitchen and its linoleum floors. She didn't cuddle with me in my bed at night, or lie on my stomach as I watched television on lazy afternoons. Mom didn't trust her to be a good dog. It didn't take long for my mother to find her a new home, at least that's what she said. I was skeptical and not happy. I had been somewhat fond of the pretty little blond, but we never really had a chance to bond in the ways that kids and dogs usually do.

Enter devil dog. It was a few years before Mom gave in and let us adopt dog number two. Pierre was a poodle whose first owner was...you guessed it...my cousin. She got married and her husband was allergic to pets. Pierre was pretty cute, but for a miniature poodle, he had an attitude. That dog was fierce when in came to uncovered meat. He once pulled two steaks off the kitchen counter which landed him, pardon the pun, in the doghouse. He was know to corner people with fast food, growling and snarling until they dropped the goods. The only thing that helped to control Pierre was the vacuum cleaner. When it was running, he cowered under the kitchen table trembling. The last straw was when he chewed up my Dad's wallet and all the contents including currency. Goodbye, Pierre.

It was years before I really felt any need to get a pet. I was in my early thirties, and all my friends were pregnant, which I claimed didn't affect me. With my biological clock ticking, I suddenly wanted something to cuddle and care for. A puppy seemed the perfect answer. I chose a name for my would be pet, and began to search for the puppy that suited this carefully chosen name. It wasn't long before I fell for a rather large 10 week old Dalmatian with a huge black spot growing around his left eye. When I met him in the Safeway parking lot, I dashed to the ATM and drew out the cash that would allow me to take him home. Bailey was my dream dog and soulmate. He erased all of the bad pet feelings I had from my past and accompanied me on many of my life's adventures during the 12 years we spent together. Because of Bailey, I was officially a pet person.

Which brings me to how I happen to find myself with six pets. Elmo (who the vet says is a "bad groomer") and Chaz (gentle and sweet) are our cats. Along with Buddy the Sheltie, they are fringe benefits that I inherited along with my husband when I said, "I do". Three seemed like a good number of pets, until I met Dori, a miniature Cocker Spaniel with a big personality. She's an in your face and in your lap sort of pup, that will take all the affection you're willing to give. I believed we rescued her from a less than pleasant life with Steve's cousin, and she couldn't be happier.

And that was enough. Until we had a baby boy.

Scout is now almost four, and loves all creatures great and small. From beetles and toads, to flies and frogs, he thinks all of nature's children should live with us. In tanks and jars and cages and aquariums, they come and go. A tadpole named Tad is now growing into a frog in a small tank on his dresser. Toad, the toad, which he rescued from the women's bathroom at the river, was humanely released back into the wild after tough negotiations. He won, and earned himself a bearded dragon.

Dragon is probably the most needy of all of our pets. He lives in an aquarium in the sunroom and dines on crickets, worms (that must be stored in the refrigerator), some sort of pellets, and various fruits and veggies. Dragon's home is equipped with a heat source to replicate the warmth he would feel lying in the sun on a rock in his natural habitat. Despite luxurious living conditions, he didn't seem happy. He was looking a little rough and was not eating the delicious crickets that we coat in calcium powder before serving. After a consultation with a lizard expert, we learned that bearded dragons can become constipated without warm baths. He now owns a hot tub. I am happy to report that his bout of irregularity has passed, and he is again enjoying mealtime.

As I clean the kennel, fill the dishes, and turn off the heat lamp, I must admit that maybe my mother was on to something. What I thought was an aversion to animals was actually self-preservation and a plea for a little down time.

I would like to say that things will change and life will get simpler, but I'm a sucker for a cute kid who thinks our house would be cooler if it were a zoo.

traveling south dakota

2011-07-23T22:34:00.001-05:00

Moving to South Dakota was a no-brainer for me. I packed up and moved my life because the universe put the right wheels in motion, allowing me to be in the right space at the right time to meet my soulmate. Okay, the term is overrated. But if you strip it down to the essentials, it works. My soul had met its match. The one thing my soul hadn't bargained for is that this soulmate would have a complete life in South Dakota.

With nothing holding me in Texas, except perhaps my love of really good Tex-Mex, I followed the wise little voice inside and here I am. But that's so not the story. The story is that there are things about this place that I fell in love with. And that every so often I have to remind myself that golden plains that stretch forever have a beauty all their own. Often, it's the drive to the country that gives me the chance to remember to find the things that are good, and beautiful, and worth experiencing.

On our last road trip I took some notes, and this me, observing the South Dakota east of the Missouri River.

It appears that summer has finally come to South Dakota. Corn shoots popping their heads up out of the rich soil as we drive north on Highway 29. Aging barns dot the hills surrounded by tiny fields. I am struck by the neat and even rows and the lack of unruliness. Plants grow evenly and winding paths split the neverending fields like the lead separating the colors of stained glass windows.

Strange how a stand of old cottonwoods suddenly appear and the trees spread their leaves and branches right in in middle of a perfectly groomed cornfield. Who decided to let them stand, and why?

Gray-brown barns and outbuildings show thier age, struggling to bear the weight of years. Siding holds tight to crossbeams at twisted angles and sloping metal roofs bow at passersby.

The weather has not been kind today. Strong winds and rain twisted sturdy tree trunks leaving them bending and crippled. Sheets of water washed the pavement and left puddles for geese mothers and their young to splash. The sun sets slowly in the rainwashed sky. Tinted gray, it teases us with the possibility of yet another storm.

Cows, sheep and goats feed on the still wet vegetation that grows just to nourish them.

In the distance, a windfarm rises like 100 giant tin soldiers ready for battle. Their white armor is sleek and new. Swirling blades face the setting sun in a constant salute. Some farmers sell off large pieces of their land to make room for this new breed, yet cattle graze in their shadows.

We pass fenceposts and silos, and I am reminded of the life I used to have in Texas. There are a few differences between the flat prairies of South Dakota and the neverending spans of Texas cattle country. Where there was once a rusting metal railroad bridge flanked by catci, spindly mesquite and sage brush, there is now a solitary oak and a huddle of hay bales.

If memory serves me, the stretches of emptiness along Texas roadways offered a bit more color and had more signs of a history. Out here, one farm leads only to another, and while I know that men and women have lived on this land for hundreds of years, they have left few signs other that the cultivated fields.

Beauty? It can be found everywhere if we take the time to look.

mommy space

2011-07-22T11:48:00.003-05:00

A couple of months ago I decided that sharing the ride to work made perfect sense in my world. I could save money and have some company riding through the cornfields on my way to the office in Iowa. I talked to a colleague, who made the same daily trek from the city and we planned to begin the following week.

Monday came. I arrived at her house and parked, waiting for her to emerge with her toddler in tow. Unlike most carpools, our third participant is under the age of two. Greta's day care provider is just a mile or so from our office. Little did I know how much this little bundle of energy would affect our journey each morning.

At first, she was definitely not down with having another human being to steal mommy's attention. The more we talked, the more needs she vocalized. More milk, more crackers, more books, more toys. Look at me, Mommy, I'm talking to you.

Over the past few weeks she has learned a few tricks. When Mommy won't respond, Melissa will. Since the novelty has worn off, she's likely, on most mornings, to do her own thing and only raise the volume when something is seriously wrong...book bin has tipped or she's lost a shoe, or found a shoe, or thinks there's something interesting about her shoe. I'm good with this. She makes us laugh and fills up the time with her little observations.

What I didn't count on was the safe mommy space carpooling has created for two full time writers who also happen to be mothers of preschoolers. It's just not cool to bring mommy issues to work. Our associates don't want to hear about every cute comment uttered, each milestone reached, and the sleepless night spent cradling a sick kid.

On the other hand, our precious carpool is perfectly suited to indulging in mommyhood full force. I can tell her how funny it was when Scout explained the features and habitat of the marmoset and the peregrin falcon without worrying that she'll be bored. She knows I'll share her joy when Greta sings the entire alphabet song without prompting. She mentions how tired she is of changing dirty diapers, and I reassure her that it will end. I share my frustration that people in my family give me a hard time about being overprotective, and she understands. Food allergies, great toys, where to get a deal on used books...all of these are relevant and important in our mommy space.

Best of all, there's no one to judge us or roll their eyes, except perhaps Greta, who is perfectly content, as long as we respond when she says, "oops."

white - a poem

2011-07-08T12:03:00.004-05:00

I was born white
the daughter of two middle class Americans
with the blood of Germany, Hungary, France, a Canadian tracker
and maybe a little slave girl and a Mexican farm worker tossed in for color.

I chose this life
as you did yours
long before the coupling which brought about my birth
chose this life of privilege
where there is no worry about getting killed on my street
And I ate purple popsicles from the front porch of a white house
with a lush lawn
and petunias planted down the walk

And I do not apologize to you for my white life

I cannot feel the shackles that rub your ankles raw
and bind your wrists
I cannot feel the pain of your multicolored soul
growing up in the middle of a war zone
streets painted with blood and graffiti
while I finger-painted flowers and rainbows at my mamma’s kitchen table

I do not know the struggles you faced just getting by
while your daddies and brothers were rounded up by white cops
for the color of their skin and being in the wrong place at the wrong time
My daddy drove his truck home every day at five

And I am not sorry

I did not hear gunshots in the street over the songs my mother sang to me in my cradle
I listened to the creek water trickle over rocks
while dogs barked and the wind brushed across my face

And I am not sorry

What do you want from me black man? Latino woman? Navajo child?

You do not want my skin – pale and freckling, burning in the sun
You do not want my sympathy – the struggle has made you strong enough to reject my well-intentioned overtures
You do not want my money – you are proud and independent
You do not want my history – yours is rich and all your own

What do you want from this white girl?

You say “nothing” and I don’t believe you as you look at me with suspicious eyes

I think you want me to pay for the sins of my father, and his father before
And I hope that I’m wrong, because I cannot fix your history, mend the rent fabric of your tattered blanket or glue together the pieces of your wounded soul.

There is no band-aid to heal the wounds left on the red skin of the natives or on the land stolen and scarred with skyscrapers and mini malls

And that’s the problem – you have to live with it and I have to live with it
Your blood boils and I can’t cool it off – not with a smile or a loving embrace or even an acknowledgement.

I want to will the injustice of the past away and share my purple popsicle, but it’s too late and your daddy didn’t live on my street.

All I can do is tell the children, the young and color blind
Teach them that graffiti and finger-painting are good for the soul
Teach them to share their purple popsicles ‘til the world runs out

And no one has to be sorry

Melissa Bachara Rohwedder - May 2003

White by Melissa Bachara Rohwedder is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://litebleu.blogspot.com/.

it's my party

2011-05-20T23:14:00.002-05:00

Sometimes life just sends you a party. I love it when that happens. At the end of the day, all of those parties just add up to a pretty spectacular life, and I know I am blessed.

It all started when I got on a plane bound for Nashville. I have lots of family in Nashville, and hoped that somehow, despite the business I was here to do, I would be able to carve out some time to visit and reconnect with these people that I love. So I called cousin Marty, knowing that if anyone can turn an ordinary day into a party it's him. And as expected, he delivered. He spread the word that I would be in town and picked out an amazing Mexican restaurant as our meeting place. There was a plan.

After working the convention, I was looking forward to seeing Marty, his Maw, and at least a couple other cousins. But when I arrived at the restaurant, I was so surprised that there were about 20 of the most wonderful people in my life there to say hello and eat. We always eat. Beth came despite the fact that a recent surgery left her temporarily voiceless. Candy was there. Liana and Billy and their kids were there. I talked to Wendy about life and yoga, and Rachel about remodeling her bathroom, and Aunt Anna about her recent rebound from not being well. Every conversation was a delight, and I smiled real smiles and felt totally home in a city hundreds of miles away from Sioux Falls.

I loved my party and it made me realize that no matter how long or how far, family is what really connects us all. Somehow, even when the invitation is late, they show up. How cool is that.

resting

2011-05-15T00:06:00.003-05:00

I miss you old friend. You were good with words and wrote compelling things that others might find inspiring, or at least entertaining. I sat with you in the quiet hours of the night, you at the keyboard turning keystrokes into stories and thoughts into poetry. Then one day you were just gone.

I long to see you again, find you somewhere in the back of my head. I wait, not as patiently as I may have done in the past, hoping you'll show up with a flash of inspiration that leads to something bigger.

Occasionally I think I smell your perfume, just enough to make me hope that perhaps you've returned. I pick up a pen and scribble a few words, but they go nowhere, and I know I was wrong. So I will wait.

You were here with me once and I know you have not wandered far. For you are as connected to me as my own fingertips. I think perhaps you need some rest. Your life has been full, and hectic, but such an adventure. Chaos and quiet they are the same to you and are the source of all that you put on the page. And when you're finished resting I will be here. I have time to wait, and no choice really. For without you I am nothing. Without you I cannot breathe.

So when you decide to return I will be waiting still. I will feel you in my soul and know the time for rest has ended, and I must write.

keeping it real

2011-05-10T23:07:00.004-05:00

In an effort to keep it real, I have to admit that I had a few hellish weeks. All segments of my life were in a state of severe disarray, and I let the tides sweep me away. I became all of the things that I most dislike. I was irritable, short, unmotivated, awful to be around, and unproductive. Mostly I was sad - for no apparent reason. Nothing had changed in any big way. I could blame this on a lot of different things, people, circumstances...you get the picture. The truth is I was not present to what was happening in my life - my almost-fifty-getting-fat-gray-haired-wrinkled-too-committed life.

And then I got present. I am menopausing. This is not an illness. I am not sick. I have no "symptoms." I am simply growing older. While I do view this as a natural and blessed cronish moment, I also realize that there are ways to ease the transition instead of fighting it and the bad behavior. My answer was at the health food store. After a few trips up and down the supplement aisle, I purchased one little bottle of black cohash, St. John's Wort, and a pineapple fruit twist for Scout.

I fully expected results, but not nearly as quickly as they showed themselves. By the following morning, I felt the monster inside of me shrinking. My patience was returning. I did not dread the day ahead. But mostly, I wasn't sad. Miracle? I think not.

While I do credit my menopause cocktail for relief, I also know that the arrival of warmer temperatures and the fact that I didn't have to drive to work and spend the day fighting copy contributed to my rebounded sense of well-being. More than anything though, I think that the simple fact that I got present and acted instead of reacted made the most difference. Instead of being swept away by my emotions and the events of the day, I made a decision to change things and take back control.

I talk a lot about being present. My menopausal awakening is a testament to the power of presence. Now, I'm not about to give up the black cohash, but I will remember when I get that edgy urge to growl, that I have to get real and find myself in the moment. From that place, I have power. I like it there.

in search of patience

2011-04-19T23:12:00.002-05:00

I read this blog post today by a self-proclaimed mommy blogger, who wrote about the fact that throughout history, it was men who told the story of women, and that somehow, "women's work" has always been that which should only be discussed privately. This post totally resonated with me. Perhaps it's because I had one of those days.

You know the sort. You wake up late, but your child is an angel until he breaks the corner off of his chocolate pop tart which signals for him, the end of the world, and for me, the sort of morning I can so do without. When it's finally time to hit the door running, he becomes velcro. It's become a "carry me mommy" morning. I have to peel him off of my neck while he's crying that he wants me to take him to daycare - not daddy. For me, this is not an option, as my carpooling partner and her not-quite-two sidekick are probably waiting. Mommy guilt sets in. I drive off in the truck wondering if I have in fact left my computer in my car. A quick phone call to my husband confirms that I am losing my mind. My computer is not in the car but on my desk at the office. This is good. I am also losing the battery on my cell phone. This makes me feel totally disconnected from the world, and most importantly my daycare provider who I am convinced will call at any minute to tell me about an emergency situation.

I arrive at the carpool meeting site, take a breath and remember that I can't have the cigarette that I desperately want because it would be so off to smoke around a kid, as if it's not off in the first place. Our ride is less than eventful, which is par for our ride, with the exception of an occasional outburst from Greta, the toddler member of our carpool, or a large piece of farm equipment, which often delays our arrival at work in the heart of Iowa.

Work is insane. Deadlines are unreachable at this point because I have more to write today than I can imagine writing in a week. But I write and try to stay centered. Ohmmmm. The day ends as expected, with less done than I had hoped, but my ride ready to make her escape. I'm so on board.

When I get home, things are pretty okay, until dinner time, when my child decides he can't eat because he broke the toy/candy thing my mother sent him for Easter. Trying to be patient, I manage to stop the tears and propose pajamas and a few books. The books I chose are totally wrong. He doesn't like those books that have been favorites since they arrived from Dolly Parton's Imagination Library. I should pick other books he says. I refuse, and tell him to pick his own books. After too much drama, we settle in and read some Wonder Pets find-the-animal-friends book that I have read, with enthusiasm mind you, hundreds of times. Grrrr. I just want a bath.

Bedtime is a struggle, with monsters around every corner and scary things in the shadows. I sit on the floor with my back facing my child, iPod in place, ignoring his pleas for attention, until I can't take it anymore. Finally, he says it's "good" with him if I just sit on the floor in his room until he falls asleep. I just wanted to give you a hug, he says. I love you, Mommy, he says. My heart melts. I hate that I have lost my patience. I want to be the happy mommy with the child who climbs into bed without a fight and peacefully drifts off to sleep. I breathe and remind myself that my story is the story of millions of women who want to be more patient and peaceful. Our story is important and should be told, publicly, as it is the real stuff of life.

He sleeps eventually, as I remind myself to breathe.

being a writer -for always

2011-04-14T22:56:00.006-05:00

People always ask kids, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" First of all, it sort of pisses me off that kids are somehow less than "being" because they are not grown up. The suggestion is a little off, no matter what the intention. It is there that the problem begins.

From the time we're very young, we're somehow persuaded that unless we are doing something productive - a job - we are not actually "being." So we plan our whole lives around making a living, which for most of us entails something we simply don't love, but do for the majority of our time to pay our bills.

I'm sure that I was asked this question once or twice, but I don't remember any specifics, except perhaps when I was in high school trying to figure out which college program would be best for my career path. I'm sure I, like all kids, thought about all of the possibilities. Frankly, when you're little, the thought of becoming something specific means much more than punching the clock. When asked, most kids would probably choose ballet dancer, superhero, or astronaut.

I'm not sure I ever had an answer to that question. Someplace in my heart I knew I would write. When I was really being, I was writing, and it had nothing to do with making money or fame. It was like breathing. It is like breathing and sometimes I am short of breath or panting, but I always come to the page when I want to really "be."

Sometimes I follow the work of other writers and wonder what it is that keeps them writing, and why some have had lots of work published and others just write to write, because they have to. I want to be one of the writers who makes a name for herself. I want to say, "yes, I'm a writer." And when they ask what I've published, I want to have a whole list from which to choose an answer. I'm not sure how to get there from here. Maybe it's because I listened and in some way bought into the eternal question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

I wish I had screamed, I AM being! Perhaps then I might have taken writing seriously when I was much younger instead of trying to figure out how to make a living. Perhaps then I would have made a life instead of a living. Perhaps then I would have a lot of published work in literary journals and my name on lots of book covers.

In light of this little revelation, I now vow, bleeding ink, before everything divine, that I will never ever ask a child, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Instead I will say, "Who are you?" and I will ask, "What do you love?"

For now I am writing, and I am breathing, and I am being. And that is enough.

worms

2011-04-12T23:40:00.002-05:00

There are worms in my house. The are alive and well and living in a ventilated plastic container that once stored thinly sliced deli meat. I think there may be four or five, but I didn't really count them. They were a gift, from my son to me, and I'm not sure what one does with them once they are given and accepted and properly housed in a ventilated plastic container.

I put them on the kitchen counter, but decided that I would prefer they live somewhere else. So I moved them to the counter top in the sun room to share the space with all the living green things that thrive under the skylights. If I were a worm I might feel at home there - at least as at home as a worm could feel after being pulled from his cozy underground home by the curious hands of a three-year-old and transported in a motor vehicle across town to a house that is also home to two cats, two dogs, and three humans. I'm sure the noise level is something they'll have to get used to.

My biggest fear is that I won't be able to keep them alive. This would be a crisis as my son is very proud of his gift. I was assured by my husband that the worm bedding he provided would keep them alive, and that I didn't have to feed the worms because there was food embedded in the bedding. Who would have thought that someone would make it so easy for me? Perhaps only a fisherman who had actually purchased something called worm bedding to grow bait. Still I'm afraid. Is the light too bright? Should they live in a darker spot, like their natural habitat? And if I put them somewhere dark, will they be forgotten? What if the embedded food runs out? Will they shrivel and die and will my son ask for them months from now forcing me to find them and discover they've died?

Perhaps I should put them outside once the weather settles down a bit. They definitely have a good view from their plastic container - but would it be torture for them to know that other worms were free and eating whatever it is that worms eat when they don't have worm bedding, and having babies? How do they do that anyway?

New found fear: They will have lots of babies.

Life with Scout continues to be interesting, and his gifts priceless. I must admit, I do prefer inanimate gifts that don't require so much thought.

divinity

2011-04-06T12:25:00.004-05:00

Today I am stuck on the word "divine." It has been used and misused, defined and redefined, and I am still not satisfied that I understand.

When I was growing up, I used the word only with a very big "D" and only when I referred to the big Catholic God. And later, I learned to use this word more frequently about the gentle way Spirit moves through each of us.

Today, I am struck by the thought that virtually everything is infused with divinity - with a capital "D".

Spirit is everywhere, but most of all inside of each of us. It prods and pokes us in one direction or another, aiming us at all that we desire, and yet we close our eyes or look the other way. Perhaps it's a glimmer in the peripheral vision or a shadow that we almost see, and then looking over our shoulder, is gone. I find myself looking up not once, but repeatedly, knowing that I am beckoned to notice something, but because I am disconnected I can't quite see.

And then there are perfect moments that it is only the divine that is there for me. Not the human heart, or mind, or body can pull me away and I am fully present and full and alive and whole. Yet it is fleeting. I long to be in this divine space for more than a few moments. To see the divine glow that surrounds all that is - and stay there, in that spot, eyes fully open. Then it occurs to me that it would be such a beautiful painful eternity that I could not bear it.

On gratitude

2011-04-05T21:36:00.003-05:00

They say when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. I feel ready, but no teacher has appeared. I can only ask myself if I am really ready. A wise and intuitive friend once told me that I can pick the brain of a writer and spiritual guide long passed. And so tonight I have been calling on him to make himself known - to guide me through this process of reawakening the sleeping writer within. He smiles from someplace on the other side. With a smirk he reminds me in his own wordless way that I haven't spent enough time in silence, meditating, and asking for true guidance from the source of all creative energy. I got it. I hear you. But can you please give me a little tidbit to satisfy my soul?

He nailed it. My biggest challenge is to find the time and the space to fill a few notebooks and to search my soul for that which must be written. Or rather, that which is already written by must be made manifest. Here's what seems to need made manifest. I hope this is okay with you, Tom.

Blessings are everywhere if we simply open our eyes. As we were sitting at the kitchen table this past weekend, I looked at the table I had been able to set. Chicken sauteed in butter and garlic rice, fresh broccoli and juicy blackberries. The colors were vibrant and the food seemed to glow with a message of its own. How blessed you are, it reminded me. I looked across the table at my little family. We smiled, laughed, enjoyed each other's company, and I was struck by the thought that it was really quite silly to ever question my charmed life.

Somedays, it is easy to worry and wonder how particular things will work out. It is almost natural to spend the day focused on what we don't have instead of all that we do. And there are people on the other side of the world whose houses were swept away by water, whose families are missing, or whose livelihood is threatened daily by corrupt agents of the government or rebellious freedom fighters. One morning they woke up and the world was no longer what they knew. Their truths had been drastically changed by nature, or violence, or economic hardships.

This is not me. I lead a life filled with abundance and thoughtlessly forget gratitude. My home is warm and filled with love. My family is healthy. My fingers still type and my brain still thinks and I am loved beyond reason.

Today I will be gratitude. Thanks, Tom.

signs of life

2011-04-03T23:13:00.004-05:00

They're tiny, green, and just lifting there little faces out of the frostbitten dirt. Seems silly that these tiny buds could possibly make such a difference in a life. But today they did in mine. Although it's too early here to do a lot of digging in the dirt and cleaning up after winter, spending time outside today, cleaning out flower beds and sweeping the deck seemed like a sweet way to spend the day.

Steve wasn't enjoying himself nearly as much. I suppose it's because he hates to see winter go - and he was raking up a winter's worth of dog poop. It appears he will have his wish, as the forecast calls for snow, light and variable, again tonight. He will smile watching it fall.

And I am not discouraged. I saw signs of life today, and that has made all the difference. Tomorrow the wind can blow, and the snow can fly and I can remember today, and know that there is an end to winter, it's just not quite here.

scowls and other things

2011-04-01T22:11:00.005-05:00

This is South Dakota in winter. It is a place of extremes. It is a place with hard edges at least one half of the year, and this shows on the faces of the people who live here.

When I first arrived here five years ago, spring had not yet arrived and I couldn't understand the scowls on the faces of people I saw at the grocery store or the post office. They seemed reluctant to make eye contact as if they may actually be forced to smile. I thought that people here were just sort of unfriendly. Now they of course would take offense to that. This is after all the upper Midwest, the heartland, where people are supposed to be very friendly.

So now I get it. It's March and spring has yet to make a real appearance. She teases us now and again with a little sunshine, a light breeze, and a cloudless sky. Then she runs away. So people scowl and wish for an end to it now. I desperately need to feel the grass between my toes, the sun on my face and the warmth. So today I scowl like the others.

I do not want to be this person. I always loved winter and the snow, but in this place it is too long, too cold, and too deep. It is this time of year that I dream of Tucson, of Austin, and of sandy beaches. I want to have coffee outside and take a walk to the park.

But I've learned that despite the scowling winter faces, there are soft hearts to be unearthed. I've learned that anywhere is warm where there is love, and that a smile can melt even the most frozen emotional landscape. So when I pass by a mirror, I check in to make sure I am not sporting a frown and furrowed brow that is all the rage these last long days of winter. And at night I dream of firefly evenings and pinks flip flops.

sunday night again

2011-03-13T23:10:00.002-05:00

It's relatively quiet in the house. The dogs are in their kennels and the cats are cozied up in the den. Steve is lying down with Scout, as that is our nighttime routine. Tonight seems especially difficult. Scout wants nothing to do with closing his eyes. Like me he knows that Monday is coming. Monday means getting up early, dressing right away, 15 minutes of some silly morning television show, and off to daycare.

As daycare goes, his is as ideal as daycare can be. But it's still daycare, and something about it seems wrong. As a mother, I feel torn each day that I leave him for someone else to care for. I know that right now, working outside my home is the only real option, but I long to stay home with him and just be a mommy.

That sounds crazy coming out of my mouth. For years I couldn't imagine myself doing anything but work. I couldn't imagine being "just" a mommy. Life changes us though. Those things that seemed so important no longer mean anything. While there are things that make my job worthwhile, I'm not sure it's a fair trade off for either of us.

Each night before bed, Steve and Scout and I talk about the best and worst parts of our days. Scout's favorite part is always coming home from daycare to be with us. And while he learns lots of important things and gets "socialized," I think there's a lot he could learn if we had more days at home together.

I love how he says things. I love how he thinks. I love to watch him play on the floor in his pajamas. I love how he doesn't care if I wash my face and how he notices my jewelry. "I love your earrings, Mommy," he says. And, "your skin feels soft, Mommy." There are never enough moments to share.

His sheer joy at discovery is one of the things I like most about spending time with Scout. We grown ups forget the joy of discovery. The time I spend with Scout helps me to remember.

Tomorrow will be Monday again. I will leave Scout at daycare, and wave from my car as he waves from the window. I will think of him often throughout the day, missing the little things he does that make me smile.

away from home

2010-07-18T00:24:00.003-05:00

For some people, defining "home" is easy. They've lived in the same town, region, or state their whole lives. Their parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins, for the most part, live there too. And there's some sort of invisible, intangible cord that ties them to this place.

In my life, defining "home" isn't nearly as neat and orderly. Tonight, I am away, thinking about home, and wondering how to figure out just where home is for me.

Truth is, Doylestown will always be home in some sense of the word. It's the place with the most big growing up memories. It's the place that I went to school, returned empty pop bottles for pennies, and played Barbies with my sister. It's the place where I went to church every Sunday, ate Gom cookies, and marched in the Homecoming parade. My first kiss, my first date, my first high-heeled shoes. And then, somewhere around the time when I turned 17, I realized it was just the first stop on the journey. That's when I figured out the first rule about home. It isn't the place, it's the family. It's Mom and Dad and my sisters that make it home. As long as they are there, it will be one place I call home.

Houston was home for awhile. While so many people think it must be a horrible place to call home, it worked for me. It's the place I first met myself.

"Hello, You."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise."

I built a life for myself and my family there. I learned what it was I liked in Houston. Chinese food, yes. Sushi, no. I learned how to do things by myself, write good stories, and how to pick good coffee. I learned that age is a state of mind, and that being a mother has nothing to do with pregnancy. I found a voice, then used it to say, "this place no longer feels like home."

One day, a few years later, I found myself living in a rent house in Sioux Falls. The carpet was ugly, the weather hard to get accustomed to, and the pace of life slow and simple. I found my soul mate and a reason to stay. Soon it was home. Not like Doylestown home, and not like Houston home, but a whole new home, and a whole new life.

Now here I am in a hotel room in California missing home. Most of all I miss Steve and Scout, though I would be lying if I didn't mention that the extra free time is doing me good. I can't say as I miss South Dakota right now. But I miss my boys. I miss their smiles, Scout's sweet voice, and Steve's touch. I don't miss the lists of things to do, or the weather, or the drive to Iowa every morning. But I miss home.

Here's the thing. I'm still not sure that I've made my last move, or where we'll end up. But this I know: (I learned it from my mom and dad at home.) Home is about family. No matter where I go, I have a place in the world. Any city will do, as long as my family is there. Geography is about place. Home is about family.

Scout caught his first fish today, and I wasn't home to see it. That's a shame. But there will be more fishing at home over the next few years, and I'll be home to enjoy it.

hello annabelle

2010-07-08T23:15:00.005-05:00

I've been feeling that little tug that says it's time. It happens every time I try to distance myself from the work. For the last few years I have had loads of excuses for not writing. I'm too tired. I'm uninspired. Scout zaps all my energy. There's so much to do around the house. And my favorite...there's no time.

And then it arrives, the need to buy a new journal, get a purple pen, and the urge to stay up after everyone else has gone to bed. Then the words come and they won't leave me alone. It's a phrase that I know is the beginning of something, or a word that begs for a partner and haunts my space.

The tug turns into a pinch, which turns into a brick wall in the face. Get back to work. This is my fate. The pursuit of beautiful nagging words that must be put together to become more than the sum of their parts becomes the very reason I exist. My muse, (hello dear Annabelle), has returned with a vengeance. And she's not leaving anytime soon.

I am here tonight because she made me come. I don't really know how all of this will turn out, except to say that it will turn out. And I will write here, and there, and in that new journal, with a purple pen.

This is just a beginning again.

ice day

2010-01-20T10:27:00.003-06:00

Working from home today. The last few days I have been driving to Iowa in dense fog - the entire earth seems shrouded in white. Desolation seems the theme, and then, rising gracefully out of the haze there's this tree. It is stately, tall, and crystallized, and I am amazed at its beauty. I think to myself, this is something I should appreciate. This is something that I should notice. Afraid to stop, I keep driving and wish I had a camera. This will not last, and I will forget when the fog lifts and the sun shines. I will never remember the quiet of this morning. Not sure how to feel about this.

So many of life's special moments are this way. When Scout takes my face in his hands and gently rubs my cheeks, or the way he "reads" his favorite books to me, getting some of the words mixed up, and looking to me for guidance. Will I forget the serious look he gets on his face when he's puzzled, or the joy I see when I surprise him at daycare and he rushes into my arms and says, "Mommy."

While the human brain is amazing, in its imperfection it omits the memories of these little details of life in favor of important dates or deadlines. And I wish the opposite were true. I wish I had a camera in my pocket every day so that I could take the picture that would record these moments. And then I remember that the camera can't record the feelings, the joy, the awe, the silence. Just pictures. Words are in the same way never good enough to help us relive those moments.

And so for me the takeaway is this: Stop, close your eyes, and be - in that moment, in that place, with that feeling. See what there is to see, not just on the surface, but the essence. Hear the silence, feel the joy, touch the magic places and know that they are fleeting. It is in those moments, we are one with what is divine and awesome and perfect. It is in those moments that we are truly alive.

2010-01-09T15:09:00.003-06:00

So it's Saturday, and I realize just how long it's been since I sat in front of this screen and tried to write something that's not about education or technology. But that's really okay. As for jobs, I have one of the good ones.

But Steve is working and Scout is sleeping and my Christmas tree is still up - though a bit droopy - and I'm trying to make myself be motivated to take it down. Probably not going to happen.

The sun is shining here in South Dakota, but the snow still reaches the for the top of the windows and cold is the word of the day, and the day before, and the day before that. It reaffirms the extent to which one will go for love. Before meeting Steve, I would never have considered hanging my hat in this state of extremes. But perhaps it is a reflection of me in some ways. I've never been one to take the middle ground, but have always set up shop on one end of an issue or the other, so it is somehow fitting that I now live in a place where temperatures, landscapes, even cornfields are extreme - stretching for miles under the summer sun, or looking like tundra when the snow blankets them.

My mind longs to find time to work on "my stuff" - an unfinished book, a poem or two, and this space where I can write just about anything I want. Now that I've found a few moments, I feel as if there is nothing in me to write.

I could write about the way the snow sparkles in the sun, or the way the drifts rise and fall. I could write about temperatures that are below zero, that make it virtually unihabitable in this place. I could write about missing my people in Ohio and in Texas. Maybe when it's been so long there are too many topics.

Right now the keyboard feels good under my fingertips, but I am being poked to action by unfinished laundry and cats to feed. There is no peace - and that's where the not-writing begins.

Maybe next week, when Steve is fishing on the ice in Minnesota, I will find the peace to write.

quiet

2009-06-17T23:41:00.002-05:00

Tonight is weird. Steve is gone fishing for a few days and Scout is in bed. The dogs are with Steve and the house is QUIET. It's never this quiet. The only sounds are my fingers tapping the keyboard and the low hum of the baby monitor. Once in awhile I hear Scout sigh in his sleep. Can't remember a night like this for a very long time. Can't decide if I like it or not. It is peaceful. And my mind is resting. Usually at this time of the night I am rushing around to get things ready for tomorrow. But not tonight. Things seem to have gone very smoothly.

So I'm writing this from my bed and thinking about how much things have changed over the last two weeks.

Steve has been so busy at work and under the weather. With me working full time now, it feels as if we seldom have time together. The job is good. I think it will be really good as time goes on. I'm learning so much and feel blessed to be spending the day with such great people. I'm amazed at how well they all work together. And I think they're actually - genuinely nice. And I love the adult conversation. I didn't realize just how much I'd missed it. So I've switched gears. Now I just miss Scout. Sounds weird, missing such a little boy. But for almost two years, he has been my sun, and I his earth. He shines and I bask in it. And I am what grounds him. The mornings, when I leave him with Miss Jen, are so tough for both of us. We're so glad to see each other when we're reunited each night. I love all the little things he does, like humming the ABC song and actually feeling better when I kiss his injured fingers or toes. I love how he counts everything and the way he says "eleven" and "silly". I love the time we spend right before bedtime reading his favorite books and the way he cuddles up with me and hugs my neck.

How this will all pan out I'm not sure. I feel as if I've lost a part of my life that I love, but in the same breath, a part of me that I thought was gone forever has returned. I'm writing again, which means the world to me, and I'm meeting people and remembering what the world was like pre-Scout. It's all still a little precarious, and I feel as if I'm walking on a tightrope, trying to be sure that everyone and everything in my life remains in balance.

And right now, I miss Steve, and the way he makes little noises when he falls asleep.

the next adventure

2009-06-05T08:37:00.002-05:00

I start a new job on Monday, which will be an adventure for the entire family. Ever since I lived in South Dakota I have been working at home. Life has been flexible. While I'm excited, I'm a little anxious. I'm ready to step into the future, but reluctant to leave my old life behind, especially the part where I hear Scout wake up, get him out of bed, open the blinds and we say, "Good Morning, World." Then we cuddle for as long as it takes to feel like starting the day. We play and sing and dance and color pictures. I'm afraid this almost routine will take its new time slot on weekend mornings.

This morning was hard. Scout had his first half day of daycare on Wednesday. He did fine. This morning was his second day. Not so fine. He understands now that I will leave him for awhile, and that he's stuck at Miss Jen's. This morning he didn't want me to leave. His little bottom lip pouched out and he was on the verge of tears when I gave him a hug and walked out the door. I'm not so good with that. Intellectually I know it's good for him to be with other kids and to learn and play without Mommy. Emotionally I'm not so sure. My heart was heavy as I turned the car key in the ignition. I wanted to rescue him and tell him how I didn't want to be apart from him either. I wanted him to know that together we could get through this. But I've read the books and the articles and know that lingering makes it tougher. So I drove away.

Sitting alone now I miss his little voice and his warm little body. But time will pass quickly, and soon I will go and pick him up - and think about Monday, when I have to leave him for an entire day. Ick.

Motherhood hurts today. The house is empty and quiet, and my baby is growing up.

Thursday

2009-05-28T08:35:00.002-05:00

The sun is shining this morning and Scout is still asleep. I'm ready to start the day and thrilled with the thought that each day offers time to spend with my littlest friend and fellow traveler in this world. He teaches me so much. When he sings his favorite song, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, I think about the universe and its beauty. When he counts I think about the wonders of the way a child learns, and when he smiles I glow. This sort of love is priceless and beautiful. Spending time with him makes me realize just how many things in my world have gone unnoticed for a long time. He opens my eyes and ears. He teaches patience and persistance. He teaches joy and gratitude.

And while all is well here at home, I feel anxious about the job opportunity that has come forward for me. After an awesome interview, I wait. I feel confident that the offer is forthcoming, but now that I've decided that it's what I want, I am ready to move into that new adventure. And so today I am manifesting with my entire soul that the phone will ring and I can set off on this new path very soon. In the meantime I am enjoying each day with Scout.

What is the lesson in the waiting? Patience for sure. Endurance? Living in the moment? In any case, I am present to my feelings and know that divine timing moves us through life. Things happen when they should, as they should. I will be off to work soon, and Scout will be setting off on an adventure of his own, meeting new friends and learning his own lessons.

Scout just hanging out....

2009-04-30T22:33:00.003-05:00

Just wanted to share...he's so much fun!

brain surgery

2009-04-30T22:17:00.002-05:00

Throughout my whole life I have felt very comfortable that as long as it wasn't "brain surgery" there was nothing to fear, no challenge too fierce, and no road too rocky. And so I took risks and put myself out there on the line, virtually sure that as long as no one's life was in my hands I was good to go. Pretty simple rule to live by, and quite full of adventure.

The next rule was that if I tried something and decided that I wasn't so good at it, I wouldn't do it anymore. The truth is if I wasn't good at it I didn't really like to do it anyway. Another easy choice with the benefit that people believe I'm good at just about anything. What they don't know is that I live by this second rule pretty much all the time so my life looks pretty peachy.

Here's the light bulb moment. I was thinking about why I never wanted to have a baby before I got pregnant with Scout. The answer to this question has lots of facets, but when it comes right down to it, I think that I didn't know if I would be good at it or not. And AFTER having a child would be the wrong time to decide that I might not be so good at it. Additionally, you can't really just choose not to be a parent once your child has been born. I think perhaps that the fear was just too great to take the plunge. This and a number of other little reasons kept me from getting pregnant and having a baby.

Here's the real burn is this...raising a child IS brain surgery! Yikes...and now there's no way to go back. I look at this innocent little cherub and think, "Oh my, I do have his life in my hands." This is quite frightening to me all of a sudden. I suppose it's because I'm contemplating going back to work full time. Is this a good idea? Do I have any options? Can I find enough freelance work to allow me to continue to stay home with Scout and be there any time he needs me? Is this healthy anyway? Enough of that.

Now it seems as if every decision I make must be evaluated and reevaluated with my new found knowledge. There's no more just hanging out and letting him eat ice cream for breakfast. (I've only done it once, seriously.) There's no more giving in so easily because I know it's better to set rules so he knows how to be in this world. There's no more letting him pour water all over the kitchen floor just so he can have fun making a mess. (I've only done this once, seriously...but it was pretty much fun for both of us.)

If it truly is brain surgery...I need to be a little more mindful. Deb says not to worry...just love him unconditionally and he'll be fine. And you know what, that sounds so much easier. I wonder if we have any more ice cream.

getting back to business

2009-03-02T12:57:00.002-06:00

I think the free ride is over. It's time for me to get my head back in the business game. I have dabbled at working for the last year, finding jobs here and there, mostly from loyal clients I've known for years. But I'm restless for a challenge, and the need to work is haunting me. Scout is the best reason of all for resisting the urge to get some new local clients and hitting the networking circuit. I so want to be there for him. Being the "mature" mother that I am, I know our time together on this earth is fleeting. I want to make the most of every minute. But life happens around us, and I need to get back to work. I am still not sure if I should concentrate on writing or design. One is definitely more lucrative than the other, and will loosen up the budget more quickly. But my heart longs to put words on the page. Perhaps a little of both makes the most sense. Regardless....I know it's time.

How to make this happen eludes me just now. I have few contacts in this city I now call home. I realize that I am discerning when it comes to friends, but the fact that I've made so few seems a bit ridiculous. I've volunteered my services for a couple of non-profits, hoping it would bring in a little "for-profit" business - but that hasn't happened. What's a girl to do.

I think I will start with this, move on to a new business name, logo and business package, learn to build web sites, and hopefully, the rest will fall into place as it always has. I have always trusted that when the time was right, the new work would come. And I trust now. So I suppose I just have to be ready to prove I'm the girl for the job when the knock comes. I'll get all the pieces in place and leave the business of my business to the universe. In the meantime, I'll enjoy my time with my son - with the emphasis on "joy."

napping and other serious topics

2009-02-27T12:11:00.002-06:00

I'm tired, now and most of the time. Scout is napping and I ask myself, what is it that I should do? My body says nap. My mind says, don't even think about it. There is always something more "productive" that needs attention. From sorting clean socks to cleaning up pebbles of cat litter around the box, I have things to do. The thing about nap time is that it's a source of frustration on all fronts.

Scout is in the "I don't ever want to take a nap" phase. At least that's what his little brain believes. And so some days he gently falls asleep in my arms after a book or two, and other days he points to the bedroom door and says, "out." And he means it. So I lay him in the crib and say it's time to sleep. I'll be back in a little while, after you sleep. He cries for a bit, then gives in - usually.

All the experts say, "stick to a regular schedule." Did they ever have children and a life at the same time? My guess is no. If one tries to regain a life with a toddler, they realize it is next to impossible when you stick to a regular schedule. Bees buzz, cars zoom by, and I watch from my window, following the schedule. A free spirit at heart, this goes against my natural unscheduled rhythm. My need to get out at the drop of a hat is squelched by "the schedule."

I'm taking a short vacation in a week, and know that the schedule will go by the wayside. When I return I intend to regain my freedom of movement a bit. My child will sleep when he's tired. We will spend time outside until we're done, and visit the museum and the library - naptime or not. When bedtime comes, as it always does, Scout will stick his little fingers in my bellybutton and close his eyes, and drift off to sleep. And we will have had an adventurous, and perhaps napless, day.

a do-over

2009-02-25T18:14:00.007-06:00

Those of you who know me know that over the last few years I have been granted a "do-over." How many times have you thought to yourself, "I wish I could have a do over." And so I am the lucky one. At least for the most part. What I've learned is that a do-over can be a really great thing. Do-overs allow for mistake correction and the ability to create an "unacceptable list" for your new life.

My do-over is immensely rewarding in many ways, not least of which is my adorable son, who may never have had an opportunity to live here on earth if not for my do-over. I am reconnecting with the snow, which I've loved and lost and love again. I have found my voice again, and I'm able to speak my truth without fear. And I have a really great man in my life who loves me true. He gets it.

On the other hand, there are unforseen risks of which you should be aware. A new start means leaving things behind. For instance, in a charming show of love, I made homemade noodles and chicken soup for my family, but realized my tried and true rolling pin was no longer in my possession. Floating around Houston no doubt, and never used. Owning a rolling pin was never on the unacceptable list (which includes things such as ridiculous arguements, unfounded anger and walking on eggshells), yet it seems to have been left behind. Financial independence, left behind. Regular pedicures, left behind. Writing group, left behind. A sister within driving distance, left behind. I am left wondering if things like rolling pins and writing groups are necessities or if they are simply encumbering and freedom snatching. Mostly I think that these missing little joys can be replaced - but it's not as easy as you may think.

Life is again an adventure. Things that had become rote are no longer routine and every day is new. Just when I thought I knew how to live this life most efficiently and effectively, I am back at the beginning of establishing ground rules, understanding a new family, finding my way here, making new friends and figuring out my place in this world. And the only way to begin is to begin...with a new rolling pin, I think.

my little sandman

2008-07-24T22:34:00.004-05:00

Photos from our Myrtle Beach vacation last month...

firefly magic

2008-07-24T15:06:00.005-05:00

According to the news, the fireflies are out in force as it's mating season. The girls, they say, sit quietly in the grass, while the boys display their flashy tails trying to get their attention. I've always been fascinated by the fireflies, and love the fact that they're flourishing - and mating - in my backyard. We used to call them lightning bugs. And as savage as this sounds, after catching them in a jar, we liked to pull off the little lights and make sparkling jewelry from thier lights. Okay...not such a nice thing to do. I'd never do it now. But I gotta say it was fun at the time. I didn't think much about the insect lives I was taking.

There is some sort of magic in it all...the way they cast their spell on an ordinary night. I makes me think that somewhere in the universe, the source of all creation is winking and wearing a big smile. Come to think of it, there are lots of bits of magic right in front of our faces. The simple fact that flowers bloom, the wings of hummingbirds move at alarming speeds, and the moon and gravity determine the rise and fall of the tides. And then there's love...the way one heart seeks out another and finds its home. And from this love, babies are made. Minute cells multiply and become another little human with sparkling eyes. These little humans see the magic. Every day is an adventure. All is new and nothing is overlooked.

Each day I am grateful for Scout, and the opportunites he shares with me. He lets me see the magic that for awhile went unnoticed. Through his eyes, the world is a great amusement park, one in which he takes me by the hand and says, "Isn't this amazing, Mommy?"

the last friday in may

2008-05-30T10:44:00.002-05:00

Summer...I sort of forget just what it feels like. It's been a rainy, cool spring. And this girl is over it. The sun is just peeking through the clouds, at least for a while. And the weatherman says it will be 80 degrees today. Because of the rain, it's humid and sticky.

The baby is crying. I've been working on getting him down for a nap each morning and each afternoon. Today I was blessed. I put him in the bed at 10:30 as planned. It was going well...for five minutes, until Buddy started barking. And so now he's awake and unhappy. And I want to kill the dog. Not sure just what to do about it. I'm so tired of dogs and cats. If I just had the baby here, it would be much easier. But such is not the case and right now I'm over that too. So I listen to Scout wail. He wants to get out of the bed. He stands, holds onto the rail and cries. And I feel helpless. Knowing that he needs to nap, and knowing that I'm doing the right thing doesn't help when I sit and listen to him cry. I can feel the tension building in my neck and it's early in the day. Not a great way to begin.

There is work to be done, which isn't happening when I can't think.

Okay...I went in to reassure him, patted his back for a few minutes, and he's asleep for now. Perhaps we can start over. The dog may find a new home in the kennel if he doesn't learn to be quiet at nap time.

The family Myrtle Beach trip is around the corner and I can't wait. Just the thought of being with "my people" thrills me. They will love the baby, and will want to love on him, and me. And I so need it. I am so very tired of missing them so. I feel like the entire childbirth and first eight months may have been easier if they had been closer, if they might of been able to stop by and hold him and have picnics in the yard. I wish so that they were here. I tell myself that if I hadn't moved to South Dakota there would be no Scout. And so I know that things are as they should be. But there are times I so want to pack up our lives here and move closer to my family. I want my dad to know his grandson, and I want my son to know his aunties. I want my mom to be close enough to come over when I need some reassurance, and I want someone to back me when I don't want to give Scout sugar. Perhaps down the road this will be possible. But for now I am here and they are there and I have to wait for Myrtle Beach - just two weeks now.

Sometimes I get up and wonder how all this happened. And then I know. Love happens. Babies are the beautiful manifestation of that love. I am happy. I love.

memorial day misery

2008-05-27T14:17:00.002-05:00

I know that the last holiday is all about remembering, but this one I'd like to forget. Let's just say camping with 4 adults, 3 dogs and 1 8-month old in a fifth wheel isn't all it's cracked up to be...especially when it rains and the wind is ruthless.

I should have trusted my gut, which was relentlessly telling me to stay home. As I packed, it tugged at me. All through the day, it tugged at me, as we got into the truck, it tugged at me. But optimistic me wasn't listening. It will be fine, I told myself. It wasn't fine.

Friday night was bad enough, with no room for all the gear we had brought along. The pull out camper sized sofa wasn't nearly big enough for Steve, me, three dogs and one sleepy baby who refused to sleep in the Pack 'n Play. Needless to say, while I listened to the wind blow and Steve and Dory (our cocker spaniel) snore, I lay awake most of the night, wrestling with Scout who couldn't get comfortable.

Day one, I'm tired and it's raining and windy. I was alone with Scout and the dogs in the camper most all day while the others on the trip went about their regular camping business. By the time Steve returned, I was cranky, not having fun and wanted nothing more than to go home. Elaborating on the rest of this trip will only make me mad all over again, and so I will just say that camping and me while the baby is so young is probably unlikely.

I was never so glad to get home to my own house and sleep in my own bed with a little space and a lot of relief.

And so today I am home, and grateful, and doing my own thing all day long. I will forget this Memorial Day with time. Scout rests and I post and life is good.

gratitude

2008-05-10T13:18:00.002-05:00

Today I was touched. Perhaps it's the approach of Mother's Day, people all over cyberspace sending me these heart wrenching messages about being a mom. Perhaps it's the fact that Steve surprised me by dropping me off this morning to be pampered with a massage. Or perhaps it's the Brian Andreas prints that I was looking at - each one touches my soul. Perhaps it's because Scout is sleeping and Steve is out and I'm alone feeling blessed but missing "my people."

Whatever the reason, tears have been my company this early afternoon. They're not the heavy ones that accompany sobs, nor are they terribly sad. I think instead they're a mix of all things beautiful and bright and bittersweet. They are for memories and friends left behind, they are for the beauty of morning and for the peace of softly falling rain. They are for new beginnings and for a heart heavy with love of a child. They are for finally finding true love and gentleness. They are for stillness and friendship. They are for the scattered pieces of my life that I have left behind, only to find new pieces of myself. And for all of this I am grateful.

I feel ever so connected with life and that which is unseen. The energy that ebbs and flows between all living things - the twisted way that all things intertwine to make a life. My life.

When I am ready to pass from this place to the next, I will smile and know that I truly lived an adventure, and that every falling feather, every touch, every chance meeting led me to joy. And for this, today I am grateful.

wednesday morning

2008-04-30T08:17:00.003-05:00

Today I am feeling hopeful. Hopeful that the day will be sunny and that I can play catch up. I have become much less tied to the little "shoulds" and have become much more interested in the joy. There are always things that must be done, but not too many. Once one realizes this, life is better.

I choose to get outside today - to enjoy the coming of spring. It's late in South Dakota this year, with snow in the forecast and cold breezes. But the bulbs are planted and a tiny yellow crocus has erupted in the flower bed behind the sunroom. This gives me hope for a beautiful summer. I went shopping with Pam last night and found some fabulous summer clothes including some adorable plaid bermuda shorts that are a size or two smaller than my pre-baby clothes. I must say they look great on me, even though they may not be "age appropriate."

Deb visited yesterday. We worked on a brochure for her and took a few headshots for the bio. We laughed a lot. I needed that. Perhaps life is returning to normal. Though I do realize that my new normal is quite a bit different from the old.

Scout and I are still cutting teeth, but we aren't nearly as crabby as we've been. With a little luck on our side, we may nap peacefully this afternoon.

cutting teeth

2008-04-16T12:16:00.002-05:00

I expected it. The baby has begun cutting teeth, and I can't help but to make the connection that I, too, am cutting teeth. The last year has been immensely interesting and full of change. Most of all, I have learned to expect the unexpected. I find myself at 46 the mother of a seven month old baby who needs me for everything. This unexpected change of plans has me relearning how to spend my days. In my pre-baby life, I woke up, had some coffee, did some writing, worked a little, played a little, and thought that it would be nice to get out a bit. It was spontaneously free of THINGS I MUST DO. And now, it seems it is mostly made up of these THINGS. While the baby's smile makes most everything worthwhile, there are moments when I miss the old stuff. These moments are fleeting, but I can't deny their existence. So I won't. I have no regrets, but this cutting teeth thing is a bit painful. My mommy voice is getting old to me. I find myself talking about important things like finding the monkey that gives kisses and whether or not Scout should eat peas or carrots. Adult conversation is a rare commodity, and I continually fear the approach of the Soccer Mom in me. I never was very sporty, turning instead to books and paints. So perhaps I'll be the mom who takes her kid to art class on Tuesday after school. This I could handle. This I can wrap my head around.
My writing is in the toilet, as I'm finding it hard to put to coherent sentences together and make tiny editing mistakes on a regular basis - my pet peeve. Journaling...a think of the past. This little blog is my only outlet for creativity and it's lacking perspective and continuity. I just don't ever know which direction to choose.
What I know is that I love my new life, but it's different than my old life - the life I fully expected. It is precarious, with potential pitfalls around every corner...organic baby food? fluoride? chlorine free diapers? sleepless nights? working from home? making time to water the plants and clean the kitchen? the importance of spirit? There are so many choices to make and so much to do in addition to being a mom. What's a girl to do? Eat ice cream with lots of hot fudge and a touch of caramel I think. Laugh while the baby inspects his hands. Enjoy the awakening earth as spring manifests itself. Take hot baths when time permits and use my lifelines. Today I will "phone a friend." I don't want to be a millionaire, I just want to be comfortable with my new teeth.

thursday morning

2008-04-10T07:25:00.003-05:00

Girls just want to have fun...that includes me. Seems like lately the world has not been fun. Cyndi Lauper would be disappointed and so am I. I'm not sure of the problem. I've always been one to find laughter in the face of a crisis. There is no crisis, only days on end filled with lots of non-fun. Perhaps the weather has something to do with it, or the fact that I have only one friend...well, maybe two. I keep waiting for the snow to stop falling. The sky teases me one day with warm sunshine then pulls it back, dropping half a foot of snow the next. This seems unfair, though I'm starting to remember the long winters of my childhood in Ohio. And while I love the snow, April is a bit late to be waiting on a winter storm to appear from the west.

With global warming and all, I can't help but wonder just where we'll be 10 years from now. But it seems to reason that we will not be having snow in April - for this I will be thankful.

I'm so absolutely tired of the politics on television. At this point, the outcome seems predictable, so why don't we forgo spending all the money and time and just let Obama take over the presidency. If he could do it now that would be good. I remain a supporter of Hillary, but no longer believe in her ability to be nominated. So can't we just cut to the chase. The Obama fever will soon break, and Americans will complain again, always looking for the new guy to save them. And I do mean new guy, since it has become apparent that America is still not ready for a woman to run the country. In general that is. I am ready...been ready...will remain ready. Many people are not. I've heard so many men say, "She scares me." What's that? Is it that they don't know how to deal with strong women standing up for themselves and what's right? She is anything but scary...so I don't get it.

What is so not scary is my morning. The baby is happy. I'm happy. The coffee is good...and there is peace. I did clear my chakras last night and go to sleep with gratitude. Maybe it helped.

ambivalence

2008-04-01T10:30:00.002-05:00

The past few weeks I have been fighting the flu and ambivalence. My feelings have been so mixed. I love Scout. I love our time together. I love to watch him smile and grow and discover the world. I try to be totally present with him. To not get distracted by the things that I think I need to do. I'm finding it quite difficult to be a stay at home mom with a job - actually multiple jobs - that need to be finished. I feel as if my days are full with taking care of the baby and meeting his needs. In the quiet times, I try to do my work. There is no relief. And when Steve comes home, he tries to help, but the baby is pretty much of a mommy's boy. Not his fault. He is with me all day and all night every day. There is no family close by, no one to pick him up when I'm feeling overwhelmed. His world has become me. And mine him. And Steve is the relief pitcher when I can no longer do it. I miss my mom and my sisters, and wish I could make a phone call to say...come over and hold him for awhile and we'll drink coffee and laugh.

And I want so much to appreciate him and to not be mad at Steve, who sleeps through the night most nights, when all I want is to go to bed and sleep all night long. Just one or two nights would help.

I suppose I know that this time will soon be gone, when Scout simply wants his mother, to curl up next to me or lay his head on my shoulder. I want so much to enjoy it, but have trouble sometimes when exhaustion is all I feel.

An old friend passed last night after months of being ill. He was "old". He was ready to leave the world. He is finally at rest. I know one day that will be me. I hope to be able to look back and know I appreciated all that the universe offered to me over the course of my life. Scout, Steve, Meg, Jonathan, my family, my home and the love that was always present.

But on days when I am too tired, I'm ambivalent.

taking it easy

2008-02-29T08:07:00.003-06:00

Seems like responsibility is my middle name these days. There is seldom a moment where I feel I can simply "be." Thoughts constantly race through my head and every free moment seems spoken for. There is always something to do. And yet today I am compelled to forget all of that. I thnk I will simply enjoy this day. The sun is shining and the temperature is not so low that I want to stay indoors. I think I will shirk all things that I should do in favor of what I want to do. Which begs the question...what do I want to do?

Read and shop and write and laugh. These are the things I want to do. I will not think of the big things like...why does Scout wake up so often in the middle of the night and want to eat? Is he getting enough food? What's up with my skin? Why is it so dry? The gray hairs are coming in again, and I feel unpretty...what should I do about it? What will I ever wear to the wedding? How can I get more work? Should I get more work? or focus on motherhood? What will I do next week when Steve is in Chicago? Unfortunately, there are seldom good answers to these questions, and so they just constantly float around in my head - relentlessly tugging at my brain. I don't want to think about all of this today. I don't want to be responsible. I want to wonder at the beauty of the snow, and wander about the world.

I think Scout and I will start at Starbucks and work our way south, into town. The work and my responsible world will wait another day. Tomorrow will come and the questions will continue to plague me, unanswerable. I remind myself that it is okay to play...to laugh...to have piles of dirty laundry and cat hair on the carpet. The plants will stay green one more day.

Today we will simply live.

thursday morning

2008-02-28T10:59:00.002-06:00

So I joined Oprah's worldwide book event, reading A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle and then participating in the online class. Some of the information is repetitive, things I know or believe, but the rest is new and thought provoking. I wonder more than anything if this EVENT will change the awareness of Earth on a global level. There are hundreds of thousands of people participating, and if all of us actually work at raising our awareness and our consciousness, it could very well change the course of history. Then there's mega-powerful Oprah - does she even get that she is actually changing the world? And how amazing is all of that? It reminds me of the old Merrill Lynch commercial..."When Merrill Lynch talks, people listen." It's a little frightening. And I wonder if she wasn't in a good place - in the light - could she spread darkness around the globe just as easily? In any case, we'll see how this class develops and what insights we learn.

Over the last year, my spiritual practices have disintegrated. I think that the Oprah class is a beginning. I have also reestablished meditation - in a group - at my house on Wednesday nights. This should also help me get back in the saddle. It just seems like there is barely enough time each day to do all the little things that need done, do my work - i need a paycheck - and take care of Scout, which is my total preference. He's such a light for me, and allows me to be peaceful with just a look at his smile. What joy children bring, no? I guess for me, raising my other children, didn't offer the "newborn" opportunity. I didn't really figure I missed anything, but was soooooo wrong. Can I keep my perspective? I doubt it. But it's okay really, as long as I remember that Scout is his own person, and that I am responsible for his care and for loving him, but that he has his own choices to make and life to live. I can only provide a loving foundation for his life...the rest is his.

No matter how much I try to write about other things...his little presence shows up in the words...just like he showed up in my life, unexpectedly. Oh well, this is me now. I suppose I should get used to it.

needs

2008-02-26T11:58:00.003-06:00

My head is too full today and I feel like I'm running in a hundred directions. Instead I am sitting here, trying to clear the fog. When the baby sleeps I am compelled to write, work on my paying projects, do laundry, eat, drink more coffee, organize my life, make the bed, take a shower, talk on the phone, read writing magazines, and buy gifts online. Nothing screams out that it's a priority. Seems like I've spent too much time over the past five months trying to get the baby to nap, then waiting for him to wake up. And so I'm not sure what or how exactly this is going to work. Today I am tired. Was up twice with Scout last night...he doesn't want to sleep through the night. I'm afraid, like me, he's a night owl, and will continue to be. Or perhaps not.

I want to write about the plight of the world, the awakening of awareness and the beauty in a rock...but the words don't come. Where do I start to feel the creativity...how. The books say take a walk...go outside...but with a baby at home I feel stuck, and nothing but Scout inspires me. Perhaps I need to go back to basics, find a good pen.

Buddy the dog keeps me company from the rug in front of the door. It's the only soft place on the sunroom floor. And he sleeps, but keeps watch, and I love it. I look at him over the arch of the baby's exersaucer. His stuff is everywhere. It's okay though...just takes a bit of getting used to.

I think I'll meditate for awhile...quiet the voices in my head, and wait for the baby to wake up.

how cold is cold?

2008-02-20T07:34:00.004-06:00

The thermometer reads fifteen below...I think I will stay inside today. Looking out the window one would never think that it was that cold. The sky is clear and the sun, just coming up, gives my world a warm glow. Very deceiving. Even the pups are reluctant to walk out the door into the yard they love to play in.

I can't help to think of the first settlers that came here looking for their new home. Were they shocked by the intensity of the winters? South Dakota, I think, is the land of extremes. From heat and cold to thier politics. Quite conservative - hard for a liberal like me to feel at home. But like-minded people exist. It just takes a little mining. Soon one shows up...then another. And if they don't, good conversation and debate with a conservative soul is good for the psyche. Keeps me on my game.

I've yet to be stricken with cabin fever, though there are days when I think I will go mad without a coffee date. It's the converation and not the weather that I miss here. While I have made a few friends, engaged instead on making a new life, I wish for more. I am thankful for Deb, who is a confidante and gift.

I have been reading Eckhart Tolle's "A New Earth" and considering Oprah's online book discussion. Missing my old book group I think. I often wonder what they're reading and if new faces have appeared to discuss the latest hot literature. We were quite the international bunch which directed the talk and made things interesting.

Things have settled down a bit. Last year marked two weddings and two new little babies in the family. There are no huge events to look forward to, just the simplicity of enjoying life and raising my child. I do miss my sisters and wish they were close enough to drop by and listen to Scout giggle when I say, "Fancy meeting you here."

I will stay inside today and listen to the wind, talk to Scout, the dogs and the cat. I will read if time allows, and try to get a bit of writing finished. The chaos has been replaced by life as ususal. Not bad, all things considered.

notes from rapid city

2008-02-07T16:30:00.000-06:00

I'm sitting here in a hotel room in Rapid City, South Dakota, while my husband does his business here. The last time I was here was the first time I visited Steve and we did the whirlwind version of "See South Dakota in 4 Days." I certainly didn't think at that time that we'd have come so far as we have today. I certainly didn't think we'd have a new baby.

Scout is napping while I write. It's been nice to spend time with him in a hotel room where there are no chores calling for my attention. There is only time. So we laughed and played, took a walk around the pool and went to breakfast together. Steve will be back soon, and I suppose we will do a little exploring about town. People keep telling me to treasure the time I have now with the baby while he's little...and I know this to be true. Yet is seems as if no matter how hard I try to savor each smile, and hold onto each new little giggle, time is fleeting. The days aren't long enough, and I just can't hold on. I want time to stand still for just a bit so I can drink it all in. Today is one day for that...and I am grateful.

It's been quite a long time since I had a really good idea for a poem...but today it came to me, and I think that the writing bug is biting again. It feels like home...that nagging need to write. I welcome it, and feel that perhaps things are settling down after a year of change. I will begin to write again. I will begin to feel myself again. I will again care about politics and global warming and meditation. Perhaps I will even sit it lotus soon.

I guess it will be myself with a bit of a twist...but in a good and interesting direction.

sunday morning

2008-01-27T07:38:00.000-06:00

A few moments of solitude. I'd almost forgotten what that feels like. In fact, I really didn't know what to do with it at first. The baby ate then fell asleep in bed with Steve while I was in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee. So I left them there, not sure what to do with myself. They look peaceful, the dogs lying at their feet. I think I may shower, without listening for the baby crying.

The sun is just coming up and the world seems still. There is no wind, but snow covers the grass and sparkles just a bit as its light from falls soundlessly against it. These days I seldom enjoy the sunrise, as it is hectic with so much to do.

I've decided that today is mine. Steve has agreed to keep the baby for a few hours while I venture out into the world alone. Alone...for the second time since the baby was born. Though I do have a few hours here and there where I'm not "on," it is rare for me to leave the house without baby in tow. How I love his sweet smile and his new giggle. He lights up my world, but just as easily sends me into a tailspin when I can't comfort him or when he keeps my exhausted mind from much needed sleep. This new baby thing is such a mixed bag. And for me, time is fleeting. I want so much to give him all that he needs, and in that spirit, I tend to neglect my own.

And now it is Sunday morning, and I am alone.

birth day

2008-01-09T11:06:00.000-06:00

My entire family and even some people that are not family have been waiting, somewhat impatiently, for this day. My sister Mora is scheduled to have her little girl today. She already has a name, Ellie, and she is rumored to be more than a handful. Unfortunately, she presented herself breech, which makes me wonder if that's a sign that she will swim against the tide in future months, and so the doctor's are right now trying to move her a bit so that Mora can attempt a natural birth. If these doctors are unsuccessful, a Cesarean will be performed later today. Right now I'm waiting to hear just what the day will bring.
I was watching The View yesterday and they were discussing the fact that many women today are choosing a home birth without the help of medical personnel as they feel doctors are too quick to do Cesarean births without giving nature the chance to take its course. In my case, the c-section was an "emergency", but I continue to believe that the drug they administered to start my labor didn't cause this emergency. Water over the bridge, but now I'm thinking about Mora's scheduled c-section. They say she's healthy, and the baby is chubby and healthy, but that she has an overabundance of fluid making her "high risk". It is for that reason they want her to deliver today. What if - I ask myself - they allowed Mora to go into labor? Perhaps Ellie would right herself, and there would be no need for surgery. I'm just not sure why there's such a rush to bring this little one into the world. We could debate the pros and cons, but since I'm sure I don't know all the details, I will just leave that question unanswered, and continue to wait to hear just how Ellie will make her way into the world.
I've been talking to her this morning...I know, she far away, but distance I think is only important when one is traveling on foot or over land. Thoughts can travel at a speed we can only imagine.
And so dear Ellie, I welcome you to the world and wish you safe travel. I'm sure the shock at feeling the open air will be quite uncomfortable at first, but you'll get used to it. And soon, the hand that has reached for you through a layer of tummy flesh and water will be touching your soft skin and rubbing your back. Some may tell you the world is a cruel place, but I think differently. Each day is an adventure with lots of lovely things to discover. Some of my favorites are snow flakes and hummingbirds. I'm sure you'll find your own favorites soon enough.
I can't wait for you to meet your cousin, Scout, who is just a bit older than you. I'm sure you'll be fast friends. And all of your aunties will spoil you more than you can imagine. Just ask your big sister, Emma.
Well...the verdict is in. A call from my mom confirmed that Ellie, who may be a bit stubborn, preferred the breech position and would not turn. And so the doctors have just taken Mora to the operating room for surgery. Ellie should be breathing air any time now. I suppose all is as it should be.
Welcome, little one.

so it's a new year

2008-01-02T17:44:00.000-06:00

Scout rang in the New Year with a bang. Beginning at about three minutes 'til midnight, he began crying in an inconsolable way. It lasted until 12:12, when he decided he had been duly heard and abruptly stopped sobbing with a few long sighs and fell fast asleep. He was certainly the center of our small and casual gathering, reminding us that this new year will be "all about him." As if I needed reminding.

Like last year, I have made no resolutions, but will continue to try to challenge myself in new ways. As I look back on 2007, I realize that no one in his right mind would have made as many big decisions and life changes as I did. But no one has ever accused me of being fully sane. Between buying a new house, getting married and having a baby, I think I covered all of the bases. And I wouldn't change a thing. Some people may say there will be nothing to look forward to. I don't think I could take much more, so I am simply looking forward to getting into a groove and writing more. Ultimately, that is a big part of why I am here...I've just had a little hiatus.

Good news today from an old colleague. She needs me to do a bit of writing for her...looks like a new door...and L wants me to do some editing...a window perhaps. I so think that I am too tied to the old Houston stuff by my contract work there and financial issues. I so need to clear this stuff so I can move forward. There are so many opportunities just around the corner, that I should just close my eyes and let them present themselves.

I have by no means made it a New Year's resolution to quit smoking, but I am making headway. Right now, though, I really want to smoke. Because we don't smoke in the house, it would mean going into the garage, not so bad in the summer...awful when the temps are in the teens or below. And so it's a good thing I don't have cigarettes because I would probably freeze in the garage, right?

Oh, and you anonymous, whoever you are that knows me from the past...why don't you just pull off the veil of secrecy and let me know who you are... I would love to chat.

so i've been busy

2007-12-29T11:43:00.000-06:00

As requested, a picture of Scout with his favorite Christmas gift...Roscoe.

Seems like there's never time to sit down and blog. This I miss. I don't really believe in New Year's resolutions, but I do believe that everyday starts a new year. And so I will blog. I will find time to blog. I feel better when I blog.

Hit the wall yesterday. Mommyhood is great, but sometimes even mommies need a rest. Seems like Steve's work and needy friends have kept him away from home a bit more than usual, leaving me less "me" time and a little more stress. Additionally, Scout is awake much more these days, meaning I have to be more entertaining. I know...I don't have to be on all the time, but I do feel like letting his sit staring at toys he can't play with is not the best use of his awake time. By the time Steve gets home, I'm beat and out of ideas and energy. Unfortunately, so is he. And so there has to be a solution, and I'm working on it. I get that being a new parent means not sleeping much and seldom doing what you feel like doing when you feel like doing it. And so I am happy, but I need some more time away. I think that I will begin that after the change in the calendar.

Work sucks right now and so I will also be looking for alternative employment. I'm picky, and so it won't be easy and I want lots of time with the baby. Not sure how that will all pan out, but know that it will.

There's lots of snow here, and my world is frosted and beautiful. This I love. I've obviously adjusted to South Dakota's weather since I seldom feel the need to bundle up. It could of course be hormonal. I think I've been "warm" since I got pregnant. Other side effects: dry skin and a not-so-flat tummy. While I may be able to fix the skin thing...I'm not so sure about the belly.

I'm feeling good that I got this out there...

More later...

I promise

acceptance

2007-09-05T07:29:00.000-05:00

Wednesday morning...the air is cooler now as autumn is virtually here. Breathing is easier, and the sun not nearly so hot as it's been. Darkness comes earlier, though the moon is often still in the sky when I wake. And it's September.

I am ready for the coming winter, to nest here, surrounded by snow. While the summers aren't nearly as long or uncomfortable as they were in Houston, it feels right somehow for it to end and become something different, cooler, more colorful. The plants I think are ready, too. The hibiscus have bloomed faithfully all summer long, and the impatience wilt in the afternoon sun, only to raise their bright orange faces again as the dew sits on their leaves. They need a rest and will have one soon.

This winter will be quite different I think, as the coming of the baby can't be far away. The doctor continues to reassure me that this process will end, labor will begin soon, and that all is well. In the meantime, I continue to try to maintain peace and to enjoy the tiny movements that make my tummy swell and swish. I surrender to the life force within, which tells me that timing is divine, and though we humans do like to feel as if we can control the universe, it simply isn't so where the natural world is concerned. The summer ends, the fall begins, and babies come when they are ready. Until that time, the body is a vessel for growth, warmth and development. It is simply not all mine anymore.

And I think that I would like it if my home is the same...peaceful...a place where we all grow, feel warm and develop. A place we share for a time with those we love, and a place where we let nature lead the way, where we can let go of the control for awhile, and just be the people that we are and that we are becoming. The rest of the world can rush and fret, thinking that every little choice and option really makes a difference. As for my little family, I think that we will try to surrender a little, and know that all that control is simply an illusion.

And so, sweet child, come when you will. I will be waiting for you as I have waited for the cooler nights and the changing of the leaves. They have arrived, as you will soon.

tuesday morning

2007-08-21T08:01:00.000-05:00

My unborn child is perfectly comfortable lounging on my bladder which is, according to the doctor pancake thin. Gotta love it. Yesterday's office visit was again uneventful. I think I'm supposed to be happy about this. How could one be disappointed when the doctor says that the baby is doing well and is right on schedule. And look at those little ankles...no swelling. You're doing great. I can only be happy - there have been no complications or major problems. Life is good. And yet somewhere in my heart there is a longing to be done with the pregnancy and onto the next phase of this life's journey. Keeping peaceful and trying to stay in the moment is helping. I am trying to treasure each little kick and squirm, knowing that most likely, this will be the only time in my life I am able to feel this...life growing inside of my own body.

On the other hand, I am a bit antsy about my sister's wedding in Ohio scheduled for October 6. The closer it gets, the more afraid I become about not being able to make the trip. At this point, I still anticipate the travel will be okay. But am somewhat concerned about alterations on the dress. My sister Mora threw a little curve ball announcing her own pregnancy, leaving the slew of bridesmaids playing musical dresses. Who will wear the size six she ordered is yet to be determined. My dress is on its way here, but can't be altered until after the baby is born. I suppose all will work out as it should...

The 17 hour ride in the car to Ohio post-baby may be a bit daunting, but I'm willing as long as this child makes a move pretty soon.

A special note to anonymous: Who are you and why are you concerned with my spiritual growth and beliefs? Be assured that my soul is not in peril, despite what you believe. I'm more concerned with your need to lead me down your path to God...We all must find our way through this life and our own spiritual connection. Mine's working for me. If I knew just who you were (a voice from the past?) I may be better able to address you. For now, be consoled. I'm good with the source, and the source is good with me.

August 14

2007-08-14T07:17:00.000-05:00

Update: There were absolutely no notable events that I am aware of that happened on August 10th. I have stopped thinking about what the message meant as there seems to be no answer.

My trip to the doctor was unremarkable. He said all is well with his usual smile and that the baby is growing and thriving. He continues to think I should eat more often. I do what I can. I suppose my little man is happy where he is. And who wouldn't be, right. Cozy and warm he is kept out of harms way and treated to ice cream and hot fudge at night. He cuddles up and rests when he wants, sleeps when he wants, and he is obviously not feeling the pressure to emerge. I'm okay with that...I have to be. In fact, perhaps I'm a bit envious, as it would be nice to be hidden away in a womb somewhere, feeling warm and loved, and just resting.

As for other events of my life, at this stage of the game my focus is solely on having this happy, healthy baby. So there is little to report aside from an occasional cook-out and such.

Basically, without wishing my life away, I want to have the baby and be onto post-pregnancy stuff, like staying up all night, breastfeeding and changing diapers. You know you're at the ragged edge when that stuff sounds good to you, no? Just as the baby is cocooned, so am I...waiting for the day when we can fly together.

August 10

2007-08-10T11:13:00.000-05:00

Well, this date has been looming for me ever since I heard that strange morning message heralding the date. Since that time, I have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of my baby and today's doctor's appointment, which turned out to be nothing if not uneventful. In fact, my doctors says it's more likely that the baby will come in September, based on my size, ultrasound, etc. And so I'm thinking, great...the baby will come when the time is right. But what was all the hoopla around August 10?

It's still early here and there have been few things to suggest today will be any more eventful than yesterday or the day before that. I sit here at my computer thinking there is work to do and things to accomplish. And so I wait for something huge...spectacular even, to suggest that the weird voice in my head that said, "on August 10" was something more that the wild imaginings of a pregnant woman.

In the meantime, life goes on, my heart beats and the world continues to spin. Perhaps it is I who should make something happen. What? I'm sure I'm not sure. But I will think about it, and ask those who suggested that something might be in the works to chime in anytime to give me a clue.

I remember thinking not too long ago that the joy of an ordinary day was something to treasure, perhaps that's the message.

counting down

2007-07-17T07:13:00.000-05:00

Today I pulled the elastic out of the waistband of my shorts. Who in their right mind would make maternity shorts with a wide band of tight elastic around the waist? I bought three pair, thinking that would be enough to get me through this pregnancy. As it turns out, with a bit of modification, they do work.

I have entered the stage in which nothing feels comfortable other than sweats, and in 90 degree weather, that is simply not an option. While I do feel blessed that this pregnancy has been relatively easy...not much morning sickness, no headaches, only occasional heartburn, normal blood pressure and minimal weight gain...I am beginning to feel the irritability and the fatigue. When I feel it coming on, I try to stay positive and do something that makes me feel good...like eat hot fudge sundaes - a tasty, but temporary, fix.

The baby's room is almost finished and looks adorable. After a road trip to Ohio for a baby shower attended by many aunts and cousins and friends, we're set. If the baby were to come today, he would be born into a world where everything has been arranged for his ultimate comfort and joy. What a lucky kid, no?

I though, am not sure that I am prepared for the day when he decides that it's time to come out and take a peek into the world. Though I have shied away from reading about everything that could go wrong, I do know that labor is painful, and that it could be a long and grueling process. I'm sure that I have absolutely no idea what it will be like, but have opted to stay away from medication for pain unless of course I change my mind mid-delivery. This from a control freak, of course, who believes that the more I can "help" with strong, sensitive muscles, the easier it will be for the baby to make his entrance. I suppose we'll see.

And so I am counting down the days. My scheduled due date is August 30, but a voice whispered in my ear on waking one morning..."August 10." As I am one who believes that the universe often whispers information straight into our ears should we choose to hear it, I'll be ready. The frightening thing is that August 10 is just around the corner...whew...here we go.

The baby is moving around as I type this, reminding me that my life will be different in the days ahead, and that ready or not, he's on his way. It's comforting to feel him and know that he is well. Today we will listen to lullabies as I hang the curtain in his room and put the final touches on the walls. He will be my baby and I will be his mommy, and we will both be loved in the way only mothers and their children can know.

summer begins

2007-06-22T08:05:00.000-05:00

With so much going on, it seems I'd forgotten the Solstice. New seasons come and go, but this summer, the Solstice seems to reflect the new beginnings of my own life. And perhaps an end of the old things that do not serve me.

On the heels of the wedding bliss, tragedy raised its head. The cycle of life and death, joy and sorrow continues. Steve's tiny cousin Austin passed into the next life. At only three and a half, he had been such a joy to his family, indeed, anyone who had ever met him. For such a small child, he left quite a legacy of love and joy in his wake. In my own heart, I know that somewhere in time and space, Austin chose his time of passing, and that he now has new lessons to learn in another time and space. Unfortunately, this doesn't heal the grief felt by family and friends on his passing. Godspeed little one...

A new child is on its way and as amazing as it remains to me, Steve and I created it. Still blows me away that out of love, a child takes shape and grows and moves. My latest doctor's appointment confirmed what I already know, everything is good. The baby is due at the end of August, but my dreams and intuition tell me that perhaps he will arrive earlier. Messages from the other side have been very clear, and so I am preparing myself and trying to remember that the timing is divine and all is perfect. Throughout my entire relationship with Steve, things happen "on schedule." This continues to make me smile to myself, remembering to trust in the Universe and the plans we made together before I was born.

I've heard that when one is "with child", dreams become more frequent and very vivid. I've always had vivid dreams, and strange ones at that. Lately they have become even more telling. Last night I dreamed of a huge eagle flying into and landing in my back yard under a blooming cherry tree. There is no cherry tree in my back yard, but a pear tree that is now bearing tiny little fruits. As is my nature, I looked for the symbolism in all of it. Turning to the "Animal Magic" book, I find that the eagle is a sign of Spirit, and asks on to reconnect with the spiritual side. When I'm honest with myself, I know that I have fallen away from my meditation practice in the hubbub of everyday life. Time to get back at it, I think. The eagle also symbolizes creativity, new birth and healing. Imagine that. And so this huge bald eagle that flew into my dreams reminds me of my place here, and the lessons I chose to learn in this life. I know that the child that is coming for me to take care of will transform my life in many ways and open me up to love that I've never allowed myself to experience in the past. I do have fears...but have tried to keep them out of my own space, choosing instead to be filled with excitement and possibility. The little things will take care of themselves.

How I was lucky enough to land where I am now still throws me. Just not sure how one person can have the life I now have and all the good stuff that goes along with it. An optimist - I see that my glass is not only half full, but overflowing - and I'm not looking for anyone to tip over the glass any time soon.

reception and other things

2007-06-05T07:12:00.001-05:00

I promised details...
The reception was in Wetonka, SD - Steve's home town...more than 200 miles from Sioux Falls. There are officially 7 residents that live in town. Most others around there are farmers from the country around there. My family, being a bit less rural, was somewhat shocked at the abandoned church, saloon and farmhouses "in town." But when Steve's Aunt Jacky zoomed around the corner in a golf cart to take them on a tour, all fears of what was to come were lost and smiles grew on every face.

The only (and I mean only) place to go in town is the Neon Moon. Some call it a bar, others a cafe. It's actually a bit of both, and people come from miles away to gather there. Young, older, with and without kids. It was built only a couple of years ago by a guy named Dave who wanted a place to drink that he "wouldn't get thrown out of." And so there in the middle of practically nothing is a great little place to go where people laugh, dance, listen to live bands, and generally have a good time. And so the reception was held at the Neon Moon. Sherry, Dave's long-time girl who moved out from California and Linda, Steve's mom, had the place looking quite festive. The locals had offered to bring some dips and salads to accompany the ham, pork loin, cake and punch.

Steve was a trooper about dancing - not only with me, but with the bridal party, his cousins, my mom, his mom, and even Wolfie and Bo. The little ones didn't last too long, and found a place to crash on top the pool table. They had a big time. As the night wore on, he was a bit easier to convince. My sisters had a ball, and even my parents, who aren't much for drinking seemed to really enjoy the entire night...which lasted until morning. As long as people were having fun, Dave let those of us staying in the rooms in the back continue the party.

Steve and I did go to our room before some of the others. And Ann was a hit dancing on the bar at 4 a.m. in Megan's boxer shorts. Sorry sis.

The best thing about the night was that two families from totally different places were able to feel so comfortable with each other. There was a time, just before the wedding, that I wondered just how it would go. But all my fears faded as the night wore on. People made new friends, strangers laughed together, and you could really feel the love. I guess that's what marriage is all about, the joining together of families...and the realization that no matter how different we are, there's something that makes us all the same.

Pictures of the wedding are posted at www.biggrinphoto.com. The password is Rohwedder. I will post some of the other candid shots on flicker when I get some time.

I'm starting to feel peaceful again...the baby and I have some quiet time and little by little the house and our lives are settling down. This is good. It's time.

recovery

2007-05-30T07:04:00.000-05:00

It's Wednesday morning and hard to believe that the wedding is over and all the guests have returned home. What I know is that we've made tons of memories and left just about everyone with the warm fuzzies.

Steve's mom, dad and Aunt Jacky arrived first (on Tuesday night) to help with all the almost last minute details. My family began arriving from Texas and Ohio on Thursday. The house was full and the details were all that was left to tie up. The weather people were predicting rain, but with a little help from the gods, Sioux Falls stayed dry throughout the festivities.

The yard looked beautiful, thanks to Steve's careful tending for weeks before. Daisies and wildflowers bloomed everywhere and the hibiscus was its showy best all day Saturday, attracting butterflies and hummingbirds. Despite the wind, the arch remained in place all day long. Chairs and tables were set up and the flowers delivered. When I saw them I was thrilled. Each bouquet was made from Stargazer lilies, green hydrangeas, and pink peonies. They were amazing. Mason jars filled with the same were placed throughout the yard and it was unbelievably beautiful. A few river rocks in the bottom of each vase kept them standing in the ever increasing wind.

When it was time to dress, I had lots of help and was hugely relieved when it fit perfectly. Bridesmaids dresses fit with a few nips and tucks, and the groomsmen were oh-so-handsome in their "uncomfortable" tuxedos. I had chosen ivory jackets with black slacks and the choice was perfect.

Then it was 3 o'clock...I was so ready. The music started to play and one by one each couple made their way down the toward Lynnette - the officiant - and the garden arch. Emma and Matt, the flower girl and ring bearer were precious. And then it was my turn. When we walked toward the front, I knew that everyone in the place was touched, but me most of all. Regardless of all the landscaping, guests, flowers and music, this was what it was all about.

Daddy reached over and handed my hand to my husband, who gently took it and looked at me with such love and respect that I almost cried.

And Lynnette, in her own amazing way, began to take over and lead us - as she does so perfectly - through a ceremony that touched even the toughest hearts.

When my sister Ann did here reading from The Prophet - she had to stop occassionally to regroup as the tears were freely flowing. Which caused little Emma to sob, and the rest of the girls to pull out hankies. (Despite their overt manliness, even a few of the groomsmen later admitted they were having trouble holding back the tears.) When we said our vows, the weeping continued - I think it was because of the truth of it all. We committed to allow each other to be who we are with support and love. And promised that the couple we had become would be a greater whole. And when it was time for the kiss, everyone was feeling the love.

Perfect - of course. The entire wedding.

We exited, ate fabulous food, stood for tons of photos and everyone was happy.

The wind blew the arch down about fifteen minutes after the photos were finished - and it was so okay.

Memorable moments:
Steve's mom and Aunt Jacky giving me his grandmother's ring to wear.
Ann and Emma's tears
Steve in his tuxedo with his Larry the Cable Guy shirt underneath
All the sisters together
Matthew's grin and kisses
The look in Steve's eyes
My own tears
The beautiful flowers
The togetherness despite differences
The sound of the windchimes
Lynnette's strength and presence
My sister Ann's love

There are so many more....

The reception in Wetonka was fab...and I'll try to recap tomorrow.

Ain't love grand?

Suffice it to say that the music turned out just fine, and the food was delicious, and the ceremony went very well.

2007-04-25T07:26:00.000-05:00

It's Wednesday again - and I'm on deadline. It's that "hurry up and wait" feeling that has taken hold, at least for this week.

Skies are overcast, and my mood is difficult to lift. But I know that this too shall pass. In the meantime, I'm trying to be productive.

The baby is indeed growing, and I've had my very first tummy pat from someone I just met. I did know that was coming, but it's a little strange. I thought it would really bother me, but it didn't. In some ways it's an affirmation that this is really happening, and soon, my stomach will be a billboard, connecting me with those who have gone before.

My goddess energy has dwindled...yes, I know, motherhood is the ultimate in creativity. I mean creating life and all of that, but in the meantime I'm having trouble feeling it. Is this weird, or normal? And what is normal? My life lately has been anything but. So many changes and so much to do that is out of the ordinary. But I'm adapting, and trying to reinsert myself into old good habits like writing and meditation. The yoga helps, but the pets seem to divert my energy at every turn. I'm chanting "ohm" and they're running around like tiny banshees barking at the mailman. Peace, right? So today they will have to spend outside while I twist and turn my body - gently- into poses that are perfectly modified for those "with child".

I am getting excited for the big family get-together that will be my wedding. It will be a chance for Steve's family to mingle with mine and everyone to happily commune over our good fortune at finding love and having a child. Miss my kids, miss my sisters, miss my mom and dad, miss Emma. So their faces will be a welcome sight. The wedding is only a month away - yikes - and I still have lots of little things to do. I'm down to making real choices, and not sweating the small stuff. Not really so difficult when I set my mind to it.

Some days I wonder just how this will all pan out, and long for October, or November, when one Saturday morning I will wake up and find that there is no big event to plan, and there are no preparations to make. I will hear the baby wake up, pour myself a cup of coffee and have a really lovely day. It's not that I'm not looking forward to all the stuff that will occur over the next few months. It's just that I'm sure there will be peace in the normalcy of life, and the everyday miracles are everywhere.

midweek

2007-04-18T07:19:00.000-05:00

This is for Gewels and all of my friends who just want to know...boy or girl?

"Boy" says the ultrasound, a thrilling prospect especially for his daddy, who can't stop grinning. I, being okay with either option, am just glad to know and be able to plan. So we were busy planning "boy" when Steve came home after talking to a friend who said that the ultrasound may not be too accurate give the fact that I am somewhere between 18-20 weeks along. From the beginning, I've felt "girl" and my very special friend and psychic said, "girl." And Deb and Chris said, "girl." So while the medical community is pretty sure it's a boy...we're all left wondering. Despite all of that, I did buy the most adorable outfit for him yesterday. And if it's a girl...she'll look just fine in those overalls with the cars on them.

In other news...the wedding planning is becoming a bit nerve racking. Since Steve and I did the civil ceremony already, carrying out the "other" wedding planning seems a bit much. But as so much money has been sent, and it is a chance to share the occasion with family...we're doing it. Most of the planning is done...there are fittings and a few things to buy, but the big challenge is the music! Can't find a simple violin player to save my soul. So I'm thinking CDs and I'm thinking Celtic for the ceremony. Any suggestions are welcome. We can just play other music we love for the small reception we have planned in the backyard. I do need to start compiling a list and making a few CDs for the event.

And if all this hoopla weren't enough...I'm still trying to tie up all the (unending) loose ends with my ex, who continues to be difficult. Damn. I just want all of that stuff out of my space.

And so, baby and I are planning a quiet day of work and a little shopping. I have finally found a few options in modern maternity dressing (thanks for the suggestions Gewels), and don't feel nearly as odd in my clothes. (smile here)

What a life, no?

a regular thursday

2007-04-05T08:12:00.000-05:00

Well, almost. The beetle but the dust yesterday, leaving me carless. With no deadlines and no car, I'm here at home, trying to figure out the best way to spend the cold winter day. While it's supposed to be spring, it's freezing.

The shoe crisis has passed and I got my shopping fix last Saturday with Steve's mom and sister. Four lovely pairs of shoes later, I'm ready for the hottest maternity fashions. But now I'm having a bit of an image crisis. Maternity clothes just don't fit my self-image. They're a bit "cute." Which is a term I've fought most of my life. The little freckle-faced redhead girl was always "cute" and I wanted to be pretty, attractive, hot even. And so I worked on it. The accessories helped, but I've no belt that fits, nor would I want to highlight my midsection. I see pregnant women all the time with tight fitting tops that highlight their expectant situation. I, on the other hand, don't really like the look that emphasizes a belly button that has been misshapen by baby. And so I pick out little peasant shirts that so don't feel quite right and which undoubtedly make me look "cute." But a small price to pay I think for the prospect of having a child.

Next week I'm scheduled for an ultrasound and the revelation of just what sex this child may be. I think girl - Chris agrees as does Lynnette. Ann says boy, but I just think that's wishful thinking. In the meantime, I think about the nursery. Will it be very pink? Or should I paint dragonflies on the walls? For now I wait and wonder. I wonder just how ready I am for this massive undertaking which, admit it, will last the rest of my life. This changes everything that I thought my forties and fifties would be like. And I'm not sure what to do with that except to go with it. Right now that is the only option. I will follow my intuition about just how to do that. What I won't do is stay home all the time and make my number one "identity" mommy. Just don't see that happening. I will continue to be Melissa first, mommy, wife and whatever second. I know that one can get all wrapped up in motherhood. I used to have a hard time with women whose lives revolved around their children and I'm hoping I won't become one of them. The trap is big with sharp teeth that leave one feeling caught and sore and a little beaten up for the thanklessness of the job.

When I think of all of the responsibility of parenthood, I get a little shaky. I was (almost) done with that, and enjoying the lack of worry - but it begins again, as life is an eternal circle. We continue meet up with ourselves where we started.

not just another day

2007-03-28T20:27:00.000-05:00

Today I want to write about the regular stuff...Bush's address at the nation...having a shoe crisis...just the normal things that happen in life. I'm pretty tired of all the monumental moments...and lately, I've had plenty.

First the shoe crisis...it's spring, and ususally I'm very excited to pull out all of my sandals and try them out again. This year, none seem to do. Even more discouraging, I went shopping and could only find one pair of shoes I liked. Perhaps the problem is really my toes, which haven't seen a pedicure in months. Is this life is South Dakota, where toes are covered for months at a time, and feet become tender from being wrapped in socks and shoes all winter long? I think not. I think that I was so very comfortable with my old pedicure woman, and now I can't seem to find one that I like that doesn't cost a foot and an ankle. Additionally, I'm having a pants crisis. This maternity thing has left me with only a few pair of regular pants that work. So I bought a few pairs of (dare I say) maternity jeans. They just don't work with the shoes I own. The only pair that feels right is my cowboy boots - not very spring-like. As if I need another question to ponder - what's a girl to do without her best shopping buddy. My sis is too far away to do a day at the mall. She always knows what works for me, even when I don't. And she knows when to stop for a rest, a glass of wine and Chinese food. She can never be replaced, and so I am left without sandals this spring. I am also left with ugly maternity pants. And if I'm not careful, I may live in sweats for the next five months.

Then there's today's news. For some strange reason, I listened to CNN today while I worked. I think I heard his coy and senseless cowboy comments 20 or more times. And all I can think is...how can this guy not get it. But it's obvious he never will.

Worth mentioning...Our wedding plans were changed a bit with news of the baby...and so last Friday night, at a beautiful park at sunset, Steve and I exchanged wedding vows. Funny how it seemed so perfect after all the planning for the "other" wedding. When we first got engaged, we thought about getting married in the spring, at Palisades, in our jeans, with only a few people there. And what do you know...that's exactly what happened. Some things are just right.

Okay, so it was a monumental moment...but a beautiful one.

tiny little heartbeat

2007-03-05T16:30:00.000-06:00

Went to see the doctor today and heard a tiny precious beating heart from deep inside my tummy. Amazing really. And hard still to believe that I was chosen by some tiny little being somewhere to be its mother. The doctor says all is well, but I already know that.

I'm finally feeling better - the waves of exhaustion and nausea have passed. And now I wait and prepare. Since all of this is so new to me, I'm not sure how, but am following my instincts and know this serves me best of all.

Today is really a turning point, the entire thing goes from perhaps to in fact. And I have so many thoughts about just how I want to be as a mother. The things I want to teach are so different than what I might have thought 20 years ago. And this wisdom I think will serve us all. I want to teach her to make time to be still and listen to the wind. To see the magic in the unfolding of each day. To believe that miracles happen every single day, and that thoughts have power and energy. I want to teach her to laugh at the world and herself and at me and her dad, and that the earth is filled with exciting mysteries. I want to teach gratitude for simple things.

I do know, though, that she comes with her own set of lessons to learn, and that she may have an agenda for her time here that I can't understand. Allowing her to be perfectly who she is will be a priority to me.

And I believe that each tiny spark of life, each soul begins the journey filled with joy. I never want to take that from her. That she can find joy and share it is my wish for her.

I think it will be a she...but haven't found out for sure. That will happen in a month. In the meantime, I will talk to her and sing to her and send her love from my heart to hers.

I am overwhelmed by the sense of responsibility, and yet, it all seems just right somehow.

so it's been a month

2007-02-23T16:16:00.000-06:00

45 and pregnant....

Well, amid the twists and turns of my life this year, it shouldn't have been a surprise. I really thought I was over that...done with worrying about it. I might have heeded the warnings of friends and family who said I should be careful, that I might get pregnant. But I didn't, and I am...pregnant, and happy about it.

But I hate the word. I much prefer "with child". That's how it feels. I don't feel "pregnant", but most of the time I am reminded that I am no longer alone in this body. I am now sharing it with a tiny guest. This little bit of a person totally transformed the body I have known for years. The first indication was the way my jeans fit me. Can't explain it really, but they felt different somehow. Then came the nausea. I have to admit, it wasn't as bad as some of the accounts I've heard about, but cooking red meat was not an option for awhile. When it was time for my period, I exhibited all of the signs of a regular monthly cycle...bloating, sore breasts, etc. And I waited for the onset of the menses which never materialized. After a couple of weeks, I was sure I was pregnant or something was really, really wrong. I suppose I was in denial, thinking it impossible for me to have a baby.

I think about all of the times I laughed at the commercials for in-home pregnancy tests. "Just hold it in your urine stream..." And then I was there...doing just that and watching for the big blue plus sign, which appeared within seconds. No longer able to deny it, I went and bought another test, just to be sure - as if I wasn't already.

So now I am with child. My child. Steve's child. And I am happy. A little afraid of how it will affect the rest of my life, but happy.

I think it was all that goddess energy stuff...you know, the otter...embracing the unknown...creating life. And we did. Once you ask the universe for all it's abundance, it responds, and you see all the dreams that you never believed would come true manifest before your eyes. Pinch me...is this my life? Am I this happy?

The hard stuff...not smoking, decaf, eating fruits and vegetables when I feel like chips. The easy stuff...knowing that this is really a "love child", knowing the baby will be "Scout", knowing that daddy is the gentlest, kindest man I've ever met. But perhaps most of all, knowing that I can do this, perhaps better this time. And that I can discover the world all over again through the eyes of a child, while having the wisdom that comes with being 45 and knowing the importance of sharing the beauty of sunsets, being fearless, enjoying books, talking walks in the park and petting the dog.

We are truly blessed.

the test

2007-02-01T15:50:00.000-06:00

Noticed this test thing on Gewels' blog - Imagined Life....so I thought I'd try. Found it a little too accurate.

The Protector

You live your life with integrity, originality, vision, and creativity.
Independent and stubborn, you rarely stray from your vision - no matter what it is.
You are an excellent listener, with almost infinite patience.
You have complex, deep feelings, and you take great care to express them.

You would make a great photographer, alternative medicine guru, or teacher.

What do you think?

february

2007-02-01T11:15:00.000-06:00

Last year at this time, I was doing much the same thing as I'm doing today. Packing and getting ready to move. Last year, I moved more than 1000 miles. This year, probably not quite a mile, from the SLRH to the - well, not sure what to call it yet - but we will own it someday. Last year at this time I was divorcing. This year, marrying.

Like the seasons, life repeats itself over and over again. And I wonder if we're all running in circles, or if it's the details that make each cycle new and different in some ways.

Unlike many people, I despise routine. Not a good thing when one works at home, where it's best to establish a "work day" routine. Sometimes I brush my teeth before I wash my face just to mix things up a little. Lately, I'm thinking, a little routine would do me good. Seems like every day is a new challenge - a new adventure (that sounds much better). And each morning starts with the same questions? Should I pack this morning? Work a little? Check my mail? Clean? Call my mother? The only constant seems to be the coffee - and this week I ran out of that sweet Irish creme additive, throwing my mornings way off. And If I pack, where do I start? If I work, where do I start? Maybe I should check my account balances as new home ownership can be expensive (ching, ching.)

And so I wonder through each day, jumping from one place to another, wondering if it's worth taking a shower just to get dirty again. What I know is that there is no quick way to do all this. I must pack one box at a time, knowing that in a few days I will be unpacking one box at a time. (There's that cycle again.)

February...hard to believe. And I am here, in South Dakota, where everything is frosted with white icing and the temperatures are predicted to be the coldest in 10 years. This, I suppose is one of those details that makes things different. This and the fact that when I wake up each morning, two sweet dogs lick my face and a friendly kitty crawls across my chest. And from the bathroom, I hear the sound of the shower. Reaching towards the night stand, I find a cup of hot coffee just the way I like it, left by a man who thinks I'm worth keeping around. When I get out of bed, I will make him a cup of hot chocolate, and we will sit at the kitchen table and spend 10 minutes talking before the day begins. This routine I love...this I will keep at the house that doesn't yet have an acronym. (Suggestions welcome.)

happy new house

2007-01-26T08:36:00.000-06:00

I was watching a movie last night and the wife in the movie was saying that somewhere along the line, romance becomes the business of marriage. Today, I will take a step toward this "business" of marriage. Today we are closing on our new home. I'm not afraid of this. It makes sense in my world. What I fear is the "business" of marriage. I love the life I have in the SLRH with my SO. If buying a house changes the bliss, it will really piss me off.

So I'm committed not only to buying this new home, and getting married, but more than anything to keeping it from becoming business. I will tear the wallpaper off in the bathroom in joyful swoops and will not get upset if everything doesn't go just the way it's supposed to. If it takes weeks to make it look good, so be it. Life shouldn't be so serious.

I spent many years of my life thinking a lot about ways to stay in control of every little thing...to avoid any chaos. The message in this for me is that life is too short to be in control...I want to be zen, and to bend and stretch with the situations life affords me. I want to take it as it comes. And so this is the real commitment I make today when I sign my name.

My consultation with the angels today confirmed that "happily ever after" is indeed possible - when you keep the "happy" in it, find joy in the mundane, find bliss in a returned smile or touch. I think in fact that happiness is something we find ways to allude without realizing it. What's the point in creating things to be worried about. Life does indeed happyn (yes you can find happy in happen) if you let it. And behind the most innocuous dusty corner, one may find a little gem of joy.

One giant step for me...over the edge and into the unknown. Whew, what a ride.

its a racket

2007-01-24T07:33:00.000-06:00

I was on the phone with my sister Heather yesterday, who incidentally is planning a wedding of her own in October. What started as a simple "computer help desk" call ended up a very long conversation on the ins and outs of wedding planning. The verdict...the entire thing is a racket, created to make lots of people a lot of money and leaving brides-to-be thinking that a single blemish on their face with ruin the "most important day of their lives."

My biggest worry is the guest list...there are just too many people on it to fit in my backyard. And there seems to be no way to stop the insanity. But then, I'm not doing the huge church/reception hall thing. Simple, simple, simple. Wedding planners would be horrified. One of Steve's friends called and asked if I had chosen my "personal assistant" for the event. I laughed, and said, "I don't even know what that is." I thanked her for offering her services, but continued to say that I think that's what my sisters are for.

Heather worries, too. That maybe she should go ahead and get lasiks before the wedding so her eyes don't water too much, and that she should spend $1000 to get her face up to par. The dermatologist put the fear of "bad skin" in her head.

And then there's the dress. The women at the bridal shop all say you look fabulous; your attendants say you look fabulous. But when you look in the mirror, you are definitely fat. And it's nothing a good bra can fix. Do I refuse to wear the horribly uncomfortable control-top stockings and suck it in? Or do I buy into the hype and get heavy duty undergarments to fool the crowd.

I watched Bridezillas the other night after Steve had gone to bed. This crazy women had spent more than $50,000 on her wedding. The veil itself was more than $1000. The flowers were fabulous, but her dress, which cost a small fortune (and would be worn for a single day) wasn't' all that amazing. Worst of all, she walked around the reception with a clipboard commanding her guests to sit in their assigned seats. And while I wanted to think she was a total bitch, all I could do was feel sorry for her. She took the bait. She wanted the perfect wedding and reception and she was going to have it dammit. The saddest part is that there is absolutely no way she could have enjoyed herself, at least considering the footage I saw. What will she remember about "the most important day in her life?"

I try to stay calm, despite the fact that there is still a lot to do. I hope my face doesn't break out and that my nails look great on my wedding day. I hope that lots of the RSVPs send regrets so everyone has a place to sit in my backyard. I hope that I can find a band to play the kind of music I want to hear. But no matter what happens, I will get married on May 26 to a man that I love, and this is really the most important thing about "the most important day of my life."

little reminders

2007-01-18T07:30:00.000-06:00

I hate that feeling...eyes burning, the tears just one puppy kiss away. I think, "don't touch me, or say something nice to me, or I may just sob."

I had one of those days on Tuesday. I'm not sure if it was pms, the sense of time flying and leaving me without wings, or the immensity of the changes in my life. But whatever the reason, I was an emotional time bomb. No matter how many times I told myself to live in the moment, the future seemed to be falling in on me like plaster from a rotting ceiling, one dusty chunk at a time. My mind swirled with thoughts about all the things I should be doing, would be doing soon, and the cost of all the improvements. Worst part was that thoughts about all of these things kept me from doing all of these things. I was obsessing without guided action.

Around noon, Steve's cousin showed up with her daughter who I had agreed to babysit for the afternoon with her two month old puppy. I wasn't sure I could take it.

And it didn't really get any better throughout the day and night. Instead, little aggravations continued. I spilled coffee on my shirt, burned a hole in my sleeve with a cigarette, and had to pay my taxes. Urggggh. And then the groupies began to show up one by one to cement every insecurity I've ever had. First "an old girlfriend" called, then "an old roommate" called with car problems. It was after 8 when I was finally able to talk to my fiance, who is supposed to "be there" when I'm having a bad day, right?

I was angry and I'm sure that he could feel the tension. I think he was afraid to come home and face whatever demons were haunting me. After all, they were MY demons. He was up to the challenge - mostly. It was a big challenge. And he made dinner - mostly. Frozen food in the oven. And he made lists and put together a plan of action.

In the end, I felt a little better, but still had a hard time sleeping. I got up and played solitaire until 2, promising myself with every flip of the cards that tomorrow would be better. No surprise, it was. The key was this. Every time I felt a surge of anxiety, I took a breath and tried to remember the little joys of life. I lay on the bed and petted the dogs. I made tuna and noodle casserole (my comfort food). I read the blogs of my friends. I watched out the window for birds. I looked at a magazine. I watched Decorating Cents. I did get some work done in the middle of all of the joyful things. Which made me feel better, too.

Right now Elmo the cat is lying across my wrist as I type. Can't imagine that he is comfortable, but I guess he needs a little attention. Today he is my little reminder that life is good.

waiting for snow

2007-01-10T07:18:00.000-06:00

South Dakota, they say, is a snow lover's dream. But I have yet to experience this phenomenon. While I did enjoy one pretty terriffic snowfall last spring, (I use that term lightly), this winter has been virtually snow-free - at least in Sioux Falls.

I think it might be unbelievably cool to build a real snowperson again, and make angels and have a mini-snowball war. I am after all a peacelover at heart. We get wind and predictions, and if we're lucky, a light dusting of white that virtually disappears with the warmth of the afternoon sun.

And so I wait, and I wonder if it was all a prevarication.

In the meantime, someone, somewhere is enjoying the snow. Don't get me wrong...the Denver deluge is more than I want. Just a foot or so would satisfy my cravings and inspire me to walk in the moonlight. I remain uninspired.

Shall I go farther north? Rumor has it that it has been snowing there. Must I travel to enjoy the shimmer and crispness of fresh snow? To watch the flakes fall through beams of light and gently land on my tongue as I lift my face to the sky? Or shall I wait for the perfect Saturday morning? One day I will wake up and rub my eyes, not believing as I look through my bedroom window that fate has finally smiled on me and given me a snowfall worth waiting for. On that morning, I will slug down my first cup of coffee, put on my snowpants, and head to the park. I will hear the crunch under my boots and revel my luck.

For now I suppose I will sit by the window and wait...

the bees

2007-01-09T07:16:00.000-06:00

Last night I realized that my mind is doing that thing again. My thoughts jump from one to another fearlessly with no net. And I try to think of solutions to 1000 challenges before me. I haven't felt this way in a very long time, and I have to say I don't like it.

Over the last year or so, I coasted. Did what I wanted when I wanted for the most part, not counting the pesky annoyance of work. My responsibilities were only to myself. I did my own laundry when I wanted, ate when I wanted, or didn't eat if that seemed more appropriate at the time. There were no plans. And now I find myself in a sea of them. From moving to wedding plans, there are thousands of little details to be handled, and they're flying around my head like bees in a field of sweet clover. And so I'm trying to remember that the bees come with the clover. This is not always easy.

I've pretty much decided I hate responsibility. Am I alone? Are there other out there who will acknowledge that life is better without them? SLRHs are easier to manage when the handy man fixes every little thing that goes wrong. And living together is almost as good as being married. I sure that those of you who hate responsibility as much as I do would think perhaps that marriage is almost as good as living together. There are just too many details.

I think that I so need to pull out "the jar". In this jar I have placed little slips of paper with my every hope and dream, acknowledging that all my needs are met, if not exceeded, and that the universe will take care of the hows. This has always worked for me. So why didn't I think of this sooner? Just stuff the bees in the jar. Seems simple right? Unfortunately there is a little piece of me that isn't quite trusting the jar right now. What if the bees escape and leave a big stinger right in the middle of my forehead the night before the wedding. The ugly welt will be right there for everyone to see, and just when I'm trying to be the princess. Yes, the welt will go away, but not before everyone points and whispers.

I ask myself why I care at all. The welt will go away...the pain is brief. And there are just soooo many bees. If I'm honest, I know that somewhere along the line I will be stung, and it will hurt, as that is the way bee stings behave. I may as well anticipate this eventuality, suck it up and buy some calamine lotion. It won't be pretty. But in no time at all, at least by June 1st, I will be rolling in the sweet clover, in my new home with the amazing fireplace and the bright sun room. And when twilight falls, I will see the stars in the eyes of my new husband.

Sting away.

new house

2007-01-05T09:27:00.000-06:00

I'm meeting with the banker this morning. Yes, we're buying a house - a beautiful house. Just one more piece of the puzzle that makes Sioux Falls my home. From the beginning it felt right, but this little bit of icing makes it real.

When I moved to Houston, I remember thinking that anywhere I was happy could be home. And so, here I am happy, and here I am home. After all, it's a big country, and a change of address is just a tiny little thing, right.

Moving on the other hand is a BIG thing. I hate moving, and am hoping with all of my heart that the new house is permanent - the last big move. I'm collecting boxes and trying to put things in order to make the move as smooth as possible. I do dread packing everything up yet again. I've done it too many times in the last two years. But with each move I have consolidated, discarding that which no longer fits, looks good, or works. In fact, I have even disposed of things that aren't so bad, just are never used. And so I will consolidate yet again. It's almost like sweeping the soul clean of things that no longer serve me.

Talked to Lynnette yesterday, who reminded me that with the new year, it's time to put a period on the end of the sentence that was my life and move on to the next sentence, paragraph, chapter. The new story has begun, but an ellipses hangs at the end. Not sure where the future will take me, but trying to create the life of my dreams and believing in "happily ever after."

So I'm off to the bank to try and write a new home into the setting of my life. I think of its emptiness, and look forward to filling it. I will change the color scheme, and hang new inspirational art in my office. I will fill it with blue and chocolate, dreamy textures, and light. I will make it a place for joy - lots of joy. If there is something we don't love, it won't have a place there. That's a good place to start, no?

the dress

2007-01-04T07:48:00.000-06:00

When I was in Ohio in November, I picked out the dress I will wear for my wedding. So I searched Sioux Falls to find the same dress and finally found Kathryn's Bridal. There I again tried on this not-so-bride-ish dress. And when I tried it on, it felt right. Yes, I bought the dress...yikes...and now the search begins for the accessories that will accompany me down the aisle.

The groom, of course, is the ultimate accessory, and has already been picked. And while the right shoes and jewelry are very important, the groom must be perfect. While he says he'd prefer to wear jeans, I'm sure that he's looking forward to wearing the tuxedo and acting like it's a real pain. He insists that he will wear his Larry the Cable Guy shirt under his tuxedo, which is one of the reasons he is perfect. He is authentically Steve - always. This I love. And he allows me to be my authentic self - always. This I love even more. And the shoes, they will be Cinderella shoes, the sort a princess-for-a-day should own.

At the bridal store, I did sign up for the "princess package" which offers discounts on everything from alterations to invitations. A marketing ploy to make the bride believe that she is a princess when in fact she IS Cinderella, with thousands of things to do before the ball.

I am having many second thoughts about the color I chose for the bridesmaids dresses. Will it be mint green or celestial blue? Ann and Heather think the blue is pretty. Haven't asked the rest of the girls. But really, since I am the bride, I get to choose. Problem is I can't. So I'm trying to be a little spiritual and think about the chakras. Green is the heart chakra, perfect for a wedding. It is the color of growing things, and of the trees to which I feel a kinship. But blue...blue is the color of the third eye chakra, which is all seeing, and which led me to Steve. It is his favorite color. And while I'm normally not a blue person, it reminds of ice and sky, of a cloudless day. Perhaps I should choose blue. Pink peonies will be the flower of the day, and both blue and green would work with these beautiful and almost forgotten flowers.

It seems that I have gone from an life void of responsibilities to a life filled with thousands of inconsequential choices. The wedding will, in fact, go on in blue or green, with peonies or some other flowers. In the end, these little details don't really matter. But hey, if there's gonna be a ball, it might as well be fabulous, no?

happy new year

2007-01-03T09:37:00.000-06:00

New beginnings, right? That's what this whole celebrating the new year thing is all about. But let me say for the record that I have had way too many new beginnings, and will settle for just firming out the edges of those things that have just begun.

I do feel somehow renewed though, as if I have been given a clean sheet of paper. Even the things that I neglected over the last year don't seem nearly as daunting as the year dawns. I suppose that it's all a part of the package. It does seem to give one the incentive to look back over the last year, recap and regroup.

The last year...ending the old that no longer served me, beginning a new relationship, finding a new house, engagements, new city, new family....whew... perhaps 2007 will let me become adjusted. And though I do feel as if I've been given a new life to create, which is somewhat of a challenge, I feel joyful at the thought of it. That clean sheet of paper can be filled with whatever it is I want to write, draw or color.

It begins I think with planning this wedding - yikes. Lots to do. Signed up at this wedding website and the worst part of it is that it reminds me just how many (few) days are left before the big event. It is funny somehow that I don't feel rushed or stressed. Just as if everything will fall in where and when it's supposed to. I do have lists...lots of them, and one by one they will be checked off. And the day will be beautiful and bright and sunny and perfect. We're manifesting that you know. And if it isn't, well, I suppose that all will be as it should be.

Whatever the case, my relationship will move into a more permanent space, and I will be "attached." Despite my longing for "freedom", the universe has offered me a "do over." And I intend to make the most of it, without giving up the freedom to be myself. I think I've learned many lessons...the biggest...1 + 1 = 2. Seems simple, no? And yet in so many marriages, there are no longer two people, just a sort of mocha blending of lives that leaves little evidence of the people that once occupied the space. Instead, I intend to continue to be French Roast, while Steve can continue to be Mountain Dew. We will not smoke cigarettes from the same pack and though I may make a hot dish or two, I will still love lobster and crab cakes, and will stop for lunch at the Chinese restaurant as I did yesterday.

I am expecting the best of the year...and will take the challenges as well as the blessings, knowing that each will teach me something, about myself, about life, about family, about spirit. And this is good.

comfort and joy

2006-12-22T11:54:00.000-06:00

Christmas is virtually here and I am preparing to go to Steve's parent's home for the holidays...literally over the river and through the woods. And while I am looking forward to this new experience, my feelings remain mixed.

Like Scrooge, I am haunted by the spirits of Christmas...

The spirit of Christmas Past pulls up those old memories...Megan dressed as an angel, taco soup and wine on Christmas Eve, Aunty Ann pulling up in the driveway loaded down with gifts. And the way the house felt...festive and full. I remember two Christmases ago, promising myself I would make it the best ever as I knew it might be our last family Christmas. The melancholy I felt throughout that entire Christmas season was almost more than I could stand, and yet, I smiled and wished everyone well.

The Spirit of Christmas Present reminds me that the entire thing was built upon something I really no longer believe. And I wonder if perhaps I am hypocritical for celebrating so. I am reminded then, that Christmas has indeed become more secular than religious, and that I can celebrate it as a time of peace, of remembering loved ones, and of joining together as families with appreciation. And so I guess I am okay with that. Furthermore, this Spirit makes me wonder just how emotional I may get as the hours tick away until Christmas Eve. Will I think that it's all wrong...this new celebration, or will I embrace it with joy at finding a new place in the world. I do miss my sisters, and my parents, and wonder how I spent so many years not celebrating with them. And will Steve and I have any time alone to celebrate our first Christmas together??? Or will we be barraged with too many people? And can I ask to be excused and go hide out in the fifth wheel without everyone thinking something is wrong? Will there be any holiday music? Turkey? Christmas Present is indeed a frightening spectre.

I don't fear the Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come any more than the others. My future seems quite merry and bright. Sure, there will be some tough years. Others will be just perfect. And I will adapt to this wintry season in South Dakota, to the ways of the Rohwedders, and to this new life I have chosen. Perhaps the upcoming years will bring new traditions that are Steve's and mine alone. And perhaps we will choose to celebrate the Solstice instead of Christmas - aligning our celebration with our beliefs about life.

My hope is that I will awaken on Christmas morning filled with comfort and joy, and that I will feel like old Ebenezer Scrooge, appreciating the people I love. No bah humbug here....just blessings for "every one."

little aggravations

2006-12-15T07:36:00.000-06:00

They say that many people are depressed this time of year. I am not usually one of them. This year I might be. I should be on top of the world, with a recent engagement, pending nuptials, a new house to buy, a new puppy to love, and generally good things happening all around me. Thing is, I'm a little anxious, perhaps even mildly depressed. I suppose it is because there many things "in the works" and few are getting done.

There are gifts to buy and wrap and send. This is totally unlike me, as I'm the one who always got the shopping done early, and had things posted in plenty of time for Christmas delivery. Shopping in a new city can be daunting. The mall for instance, is simply uncharted territory. I have no idea where to park, nor where to go when I finally get inside. Unlike in Houston, there is only one mall, and everyone is there. EVERYONE! So I tried downtown...again with the parking. Then the walking up and down streets to find a boutique that I've heard about. And the wind....well, if it's anything like yesterday, could carry all gifts to their final destination without delay. My sisters are easy to buy for. Always have been, and yet they remain giftless. My father, who is the hardest to buy for, is taken care of because Steve got online and bought him a gift I might never have thought of. But I haven't wrapped it.

To make matters more difficult, I'm on deadline again. And this time, while materials arrived somewhat early, the clients are at their worst. Perhaps they are feeling the Christmas crunch as well.

And there are the financial issues. Clients that don't want to pay me, accountants who don't want to call me, unfinished divorce business, and the bonus issue.

And this morning, as if on cue, the Universe sent this message....

As far as I can tell, Melissa, worrying, about anything at all, is a pretty good indicator that one has begun thinking that their joy and prosperity will somehow hinge on pending physical events, other people, or angry green Martians.
Can you imagine?!
Phone home,
The Universe

First, Melissa, joy and prosperity are created within. Second, the events and people of your life can be changed with your thoughts. And third, Martians have long dwelled upon your planet, and while there were a few among them considering a coup, even they are now so enthralled by "The Secret," you have absolutely nothing to fear.

Is this all about fear? change? growing pains? And how do I shift the energy?

Right now I'm not sure. But I think a day of shopping with Ann might cure it. But then of course she is in Texas. As I was telling her the other night, nothing cures the blues like a great shopping buddy, and she's the best. In fact, though I'm not a huge shopping fan, when I do it with her, it's fabulous.

And so I remain a little disgruntled, disappointed and bah-humbug. Perhaps I will take the afternoon off and zip off to the coffee shop, then downtown for some hunting and gathering. I always did love a challenge.

new puppy day 3

2006-12-14T07:27:00.000-06:00

Her name is Dori, and I'm sure it was a tough life for her prior to her adoption. She lived in a house with three adults, four little kids, two cats and a bunny. Needless to say, her needs didn't always come first. And she was nervous, always nervous. And now she has a new home and she's totally adjusting. I'm not sure she likes sleeping in the kennel while Buddy curls up on his own pillow next to the bed or sharing her food. But other than that, I think she's pretty happy. And she is no longer nervous. The new puppy thing wasn't nearly as hard as I'd imagined. She and Bud get along just fine. The cats hate her, so they stay out of the way for the most part. They do hiss and paw at her when she gets too close, but they can retreat to their upstairs apartment for peace.

Sometimes I think I'm crazy...everything moving so fast and I continue to make changes. Just when I adjust to the idea of one new thing, another appears. Perhaps the lesson in all of this is to stay flexible, and to know that all of the "stuff" doesn't really matter at all. The sun rises and night falls, and each day is full of discoveries, and that's life. I asked the Universe for some adventure, and now, everyday there is a new one.

This morning I am tired. Don't feel like working. Feel like crawling back in the bed and catching a few more hours sleep. But I won't. The Christmas music in the background helps. I am trying to stay in the spirit, but my deadline looms and my shopping isn't even close. There are still cards I'd like to send. But what gets done will get done, and the rest will not. And the sun will rise and night will fall.

overwhelmed

2006-12-02T08:17:00.000-06:00

Just got back from Ohio on the whirlwind Thanksgiving vacation. Always good to see family...always good to get home. The news of course is the weddings - mine and Heather's. One full day of shopping secured both a wedding dress for me and my bridesmaids. And after spending the afternoon here in Sioux Falls looking for other options, I've decided that I'm done shopping for dresses. And so it's on to measurements, etc. In the meantime, I didn't remember just how many things there are to take care of.

Logistically, this wedding is almost impossible. But I think I do have the solutions - at least some of them. And Deb is a great sounding board. (Sorry Deb, but you've just become the first mate for this voyage.)

There are decisions to make about everything, and with the purchase of the house pending and Christmas around the corner...I'm not sure which way is up. My angels remind me...one thing at a time...and so I need to regroup and handle each of the things on my to do list, but I should make one first.

Steve is working this morning, which is good, because I have time to think. Wait...maybe that isn't a good thing. On top of everything else, I find myself extremely emotional, no matter what I'm doing. I feel on the brink of tears at least once every hour. I look for a few Christmas decorations for the SLRH, I tear up. I look at the bridal stores, I tear up. I think of Steve, I tear up. The dog curls up on my lap, I tear up. I know what you're thinking and the answer is no - the only PMS here is PreMaritalShakiness. It's like a nasty little STD that won't go away.

Not sure how this will all pan out. I'm trying to remember that the most important thing is to live each day for the joy of it. And so, I suppose I will do this. But first I'll make a list. At least it may calm the jitters.

home ownership and other things

2006-11-15T07:14:00.000-06:00

This morning I woke up and almost instantly there were thousands of thoughts and things to do rushing through my head. This is usually not the case with me. I can spend a good half hour or so just enjoying the detachment of waking up. With so much going on right now, I'm sure that those thoughts just couldn't wait to surface.

I thought about the new house, and the fact that I need to get in touch with Donna at the bank, that I need to get in touch with Larry my attorney to help me facilitate a few of the things that the divorce called for, and that I need to send some paperwork to my accountant. I thought about the magazine deadline, Lynnette's business cards, Deb's business cards and paying bills. Too much for one little morning mind. I'm trying be still and all these things won't let it be. Tired of fighting them, I get up, get some coffee. (If you're and International Delight fan, don't try the for-Christmas-only chocolate mint. The chocolate settles to the bottom and it's not very minty. Instead, go to Starbucks and get a peppermint mocha - any size.)

And so it's one thing at a time. We made an offer on the house. It is very much what we were looking for. My friend Breeze says that it looks "too normal." Be reassured - that is temporary. It will be so much more interesting than normal once I get in there and adapt the space to me, us, and the critters. And the current owners accepted our offer. We set a move in date for February 1, which is what I had hoped for, even requested. Things do fall into place easily in my world when I believe. There was really no resistance from the other side. I'm sure they're ready to move on.

Sometimes I think that I'd rather spend Christmas at the new place, but it will be much better to have the time to plan, prepare, and move in at a more realistic pace. (Oh, and I need to call the Farmer's guy about homeowners insurance.) I can so see myself in front of that fireplace on cold winter nights. So...it's not a cabin in the mountains - all in due time.

My emotional reaction to all of this home buying stuff surprised me a bit. I got a little teary, and realized that it gives my move here a sense of permanence. The last couple of years, I lived in "temporary housing." This term, most commonly used in cases where people are displaced due to natural disasters or war, seemed to fit my situation. I was definitely displaced. Though I had most modern conveniences, and was safe and warm, I was not "home." And in some ways, I suppose the cause of my displacement was a natural disaster and a war. So the purchase of a home here in South Dakota with my SO gives me a sense that I will again be "home." It will be in this new place, with a new family, and new pets, a different climate, and a different back yard. But I have found home again. I can only wonder if that is really what we all long for - home, a sense of permanence, security, and a human we can count on to share it all with. Perhaps this is what defines "home." Some would argue that home is really anywhere we have an emotional connection, and that is it where the heart is. I would argue that there's something to be said for the material parts of this - the fireplace, the flowers, the embraces, a solid door to unlock when I pull into the driveway.

I have a little door knocker that says something about peace that I bought years ago and never hung at the house on Castle Hill, the apartment, or here at the SLRH. I've picked it up thousands of times, but never felt compelled to hang it. The saying didn't ring true. I know just where it is. It occurs to me that my new house will be its "home." And that it has been patiently waiting for February 1, 2007 to be mounted to the door of a home filled with peace. How cool is that?

Oh, and one more thing. If you haven't noticed, I added a link on the right side of this page to our Flickr site where I've posted some of our pictures. Drop by and take a look.

keeping the pace

2006-11-07T07:40:00.000-06:00

So I move to South Dakota expecting winter to be brutal. Here I am. It's November, and despite my anticipation, there has yet to be a significant snowfall. Just wait, they all say. And so I wait. In the meantime, I must say I am enjoying the lovely brisk days, clear skies and the opportunity to spend some time outside before the bad weather hits.

My world continues to evolve at a frantic pace with the engagement, and now, the very real opportunity to buy a house. Somehow through all the changes that have happened in my life over the year, I remain peaceful. At least that is my goal. It would be easy to allow myself to get caught up in the whirlwind, but I am resolved to keep myself and my life grounded. Those things that may have been viewed as really huge in the past seem only medium. My engagement for instance, seems only an affirmation of what I've known since the beginning of my relationship with Steve - that it was meant to be. It wasn't long after we met that I realized that one day we would get married. I didn't accept this easily, but found myself, more than a year ago, writing "vows" that might suit us in my journal. Yesterday I found those words that I wrote a year ago, and amazingly, they still seem valid and true. Thoughts do indeed become things. As for the house we're looking to buy, I can easily see the two of us sitting in front of the fireplace downstairs, and brushing our teeth together in the bathroom. And so soon we will move into the white house on 18th St. I'm not sure just how we will get from here to there, but know that we will, and that the flowers in the backyard will bloom and grin as we enjoy their presence.

Walking through the house I got the sense that we might be blessed by the man and woman who lived there prior to their passing. I think they were very much in love, and that this home was a place of peace. And they smile from the other side knowing that as we might love and care for the house much as they did. It just felt right to be there. As usual, I will follow my intuition. Perhaps that is why I remain calm at the thought of this undertaking.

I watched Under the Tuscan Sun last night, and remembered that I always wanted to see Italy. Old feelings came up for me. The reminders of where I've been were everywhere, but looking over at Steve, I was again sure that the decisions I have made over the past year were the right ones.

All of the changes in my life may be hard for some to digest - it's all happened so fast. But time is only a construction of man, and each moment must be lived as if it were the only one that mattered. At this moment, my world continues to revolve, my heart is full, and my soul is peaceful. I am glad to be me - now - with him - in this place, and that is all that matters.

rings and things

2006-11-03T07:28:00.000-06:00

I said yes...no matter what I've said in the past and all my rantings about never being married again, I said "yes."

This morning...less than 48 hours after I said yes, I am wondering just what the hell happened. It's easier to figure out when I write it out. The only reasonable explaination is that I love, and modern or not, I remain conventional and romantic when it comes to relationships.

I remember the days not too long ago when I reported to the world that I would never get married again, that if indeed I did meet a man with potential, I would allow him only to keep a toothbrush and a clean pair of drawers at my place. I was determined never to allow myself to be in a situation that might result in the total desperation that I felt was marriage.

Then I met Steve...

Tender, gentle Steve, and without a second thought, well maybe a second thought, but with very few reservations, I moved to South Dakota to explore the possibilities of a life with him. Before I knew it he had not only a toothbrush at my SLRH, but I was feeding his dog and two cats every single morning after he went to work.

I was still determined to be unconventional...I figured we could go on living together, enjoying life together, and remain true without any legal documentation. But then, one day, about a month ago, I was on the phone with Lynnette and I admitted sheepishly that I did, in fact, want to be married.

This pissed me off. I wasn't supposed to want that. It was almost embarrassing. How could this have happened? Could I possibly have changed my mind about the durability of love? Could I possibly have reconsidered that a man and a woman could have a lifetime relationship that was good and served them both? And who (couldn't possibly be me), was longing to hear the words, "marry me"?

We went to dinner the other night, and when we returned to the SLRH it was filled with Stargazer lilies, and Steve's hands were shaking as he offered up an engagement ring with his heart.

I was speechless, (but only for a moment as those of you who know me might guess), and the only word in my head was "yes."

(Chris, if you're reading this, don't fall off the chair.)

And so we're getting married. Sometime...no hurry, right? maybe next week? next month? after Christmas?

Unconventional me is a little worried about the size and shape of this thing, as everyone wants to get in the act. From my sisters to his, and the kids on both sides of the family. We have agreed on a few things...no church...no long drawn out ceremony. Cherish, yes...obey, no. As for the rest, I guess we'll have to figure it all out.

halloween...

2006-10-31T07:16:00.000-06:00

In some circles, this is a huge holiday. And through it all, witches get a bad rap - witches, not to be confused with those who worship "the dark one." I'm thinking this morning that in all women there is a little bit of witch. Unlike some others I know, I don't associate this term with the darkness at all, so don't take it all personally and think that I'm name-calling. I am, after all, female, and thinking that the qualities of a good witch are something we should all strive to embrace.

Wicca.com explains it this way>>>

"Witchcraft in ancient history was known as "The Craft of the Wise" because most who followed the path were in tune with the forces of nature, had a knowledge of herbs and medicines, gave council and were valuable parts of the village and community as Shamanic healers and leaders. They understood that mankind is not superior to nature, the earth and its creatures but instead we are simply one of the many parts, both seen and unseen that combine to make the whole. As Chief Seattle said; "We do not own the earth, we are part of it." These wise people understood that what we take or use, we must return in kind to maintain balance and equilibrium. Clearly, modern man with all his applied learning and technology has forgotten this. Subsequently, we currently face ecological disaster and eventual extinction because of our hunger for power and a few pieces of gold."

I see no problem with this? I think somehow that those who founded some of the major religions were not comfortable with powerful women, wise women, healers, who understood the earth and her rhythms. And that they chose to demonize this peaceful ancient breed in order to take their power and rid the earth of this "blight". And so tonight, as the little monsters beg for candy, we will see many black witch costumes and tiny human beings with warts on their painted green noses. And I object.

I have an affinity for herbal cures, magic and the natural world. Perhaps in another life I was one of the wise women who was labeled evil and was driven underground. I have no penchant for sorcery, but a little love potion doesn't seem to me to be a bad thing. And I'm not boiling up any poisons to coat innocuous apples, instead a cup of organic herb tea would be just the thing to warm me up on a chilly morning like this one.

And I'm also thinking that perhaps it is not the witches who are threatening our children, but instead, the politicians and powerful men who fill their heads with nonsense and fear. Prescription drugs are prescribed for ADD, ADHD and hyperactivity. Are these not harmful to active, creative and beautiful children who perhaps, don't conform to the norm? And what about those who cover our fruits and vegetables with chemicals and shoot the the cows full of hormones? From oil companies to plastic manufacturers and loggers to strip miners, our world is being destroyed. Are those who run these companies evil? We don't need a magic ball to uncover the truth here, just a little wisdom.

This All Hallows Eve, I will embrace that goddess within...the witch who is wise, magical and peaceful - the witch who is beautiful and in touch with the earth - the witch who nurtures and understands that all creatures are indeed necessary for balance on the planet. Yes, this Halloween, I will be a witch.

white

2006-10-18T08:46:00.000-05:00

The ground is white this morning...sending me back to Ohio in my mind. The earth seems still somehow when the snow falls. But I am not still today, but unsettled. I am not sure of the reason, but feel a great need to find a sense of who I am, what the hell I'm doing, and why I am here.

There's a bunch of stuff on the internet about some great violet pulse of light that was beaming down to earth from another dimension for 17 hours yesterday. Some "experts" reported that feelings and manifestation would be "increased a million-fold" during this span of time. Looking at yesterday, I realize I was intense. Most all of my feeling were deeply rooted and I couldn't seem to break out of the depths. When I felt good - I felt great. And the opposite was also true. Seems like I've had lots on my mind lately.

I guess I need to get out of my head and back into the present moment. This is not always easy for a girl whose brain never shuts off. In addition, I've been reading this really crazy book called, "The Children of the Matrix" which would freak out just about anyone. In a nutshell (no pun intended) the book proposes that we are all controlled by and intergalactic race of beings with hybrid DNA, going back to the time when Atlantis and Lemuria-Mu were in the "golden age."

Okay - sounds a little crazy, but the evidence is frightening - and I don't often use that word. My open-mindedness has been challenged. I'm trying to figure out if it's just my ego talking, or if the guy who wrote the book is a quack. Regardless, the information is good to file away in my little cabinet of a brain.

If the book is on the right track, how can I possibly choose who I should trust, and who is part of the conspiracy of control? And does it matter at all?

There are also mixed messages from the other side re: my meditation group, my relationship, and some new acquaintances. Perhaps it is me who is mixed, and the universe is only reflecting that... (yes, says a voice in my head.)

Mornings like this confound me.

I long to fall gently on the earth, like the snow, sure of my purpose and peaceful. A walk with Buddy may do me some good, clear my head, and leave me grounded. What I know is searching the internet only leaves me with a headful of unanswered questions - and there is absolutely no room in my brain for any more.

a moment of bliss

2006-10-11T18:26:00.000-05:00

Some days begin just like other days. We have nothing big planned and no major event scheduled and yet, somehow, the universe throws us an unsuspected moment of true bliss.

Today I had one of those moments. I showered late, in the afternoon, planning to pick up my friend Deb at the Firestone dealer while her car was being worked on. We were going to Starbucks for coffee. I wore blue jeans, boots and a really great jean jacket with fake sheepskin lining - very cozy - and my favorite silver velvet gloves. The world seemed good as I zipped through the streets of Sioux Falls. The sun was shining, though the temperature was in the thirties. We sat in Starbucks discussing current events and life and love, and I looked out the window while I sipped the perfect peppermint soy mocha with whipped cream. Life was indeed good. And then, as if the gods were just as happy, the snow started to fall. Little flakes at first, which grew to be bigger flakes, blowing through the air. I felt giddy - like I did as a kid with the first snow of the season. I actually got butterflies in my stomach for the joy.

As if that weren't enough, I dropped Deb off and went to my favorite coffee store to get some fresh beans. I chose Tres Rios from Guatemala, which it turns out was the perfect choice as it had just been roasted this morning. The bag was warm when the clerk at Black Sheep put it in my hands, right after offering me a free cup of the day's special brew. Then he punched my punch card, and believe it or not...I now had 10 punches, which means a free pound of coffee on my next visit.

I bopped back into my cute little VW beetle with the heated seats, warm coffee beans in my hands, snow falling, cheeks rosy and my phone rang. My SO was calling just to say hello, and that he loved me.

I don't know about you, but this, to me, is pure bliss. And I just want to hold on to these moments forever. There will be less blissful days, weeks, even months. But today, for a perfect moment or two, the universe smiled a really big smile and aimed it at me. Best of all, I noticed. A little fresh coffee, a little light snow, a little love - what more could a girl ask for?

being present

2006-10-03T08:03:00.000-05:00

I wake up and stretch, my body tight from lying in bed for hours, barely moving. I smile remembering where I am. For more than six months now I have been living in a new place, in a new relationship, yet it still catches me by surprise every now and then. But much of my life has become familiar again. Little patterns have emerged where there were none, and I realize that this is the cycle that we constantly repeat. And though we humans like to set ourselves above the rest of the creatures that share the earth, we are much like them, preferring the familiar to the strange or unusual. Unconsciously, no matter how much we try to keep things exciting, they slip into regular patterns. Like breathing, creating these routines is something we cannot not do.

And I am present this morning, noticing my patterns of life, and thinking about what I might change - not just to keep life exciting, but to make the most of my time and energy.

Not much of a morning person, despite the fact that I still get up with the sun, I find that the early hours are spent wandering about my life and accomplishing nothing. I can hardly get moving without coffee, and even then, my heart doesn't really start to beat until a few aimless hours have passed. I make mental lists of things to do, but can't do these things until later. I make myself get to work, then take a break at noon to get something to eat. Around 2 I feel energized, ready to accomplish something. This is my most productive time, though I'm not sure if it's guilt that motivates me, or whether this is what my body and mind choose.

And these patterns annoy me. Sometimes on a whim, I change things up a bit. This can be disastrous - for I rely on patterns to make sure everything gets done, and done properly. On days when I don't follow the routine, the coffee maker doesn't switch on when it should, the clothes don't make it into the dryer, the cats don't get fed, or the bed doesn't get made. Since I am present this morning, I ask myself...what if things don't get done? Is it a disaster? In most cases, the answer is no. Life continues, I breathe, and through the chaos, new ideas emerge, creative thoughts are born, and little things surprise me. And the big things...they take care of themselves somehow. The bills do get paid, the lights work, the animals play.

In the meantime, we live, we notice the beauty of the earth - a new rose on the rose bush, cardinals in the grass picking up seed, the way the sun comes through the window and rests on the tabletop. And this is a productive use of time and a source of joy - the reason we live.

a perfect day...

2006-10-02T07:36:00.000-05:00

...I think. At least that's how I intend it. The weekend was absolutely full and included a trip back in time. This weekend's trip to Wetonka was specifically earmarked for loading up the truck with old furniture from Steve's grandparents' house that needs some refinishing. And so on Sunday morning, we ventured into the decaying rooms of their old house. We weren't the first to visit. Many critters had been there before, leaving destruction in their wake. I'm sure they were not happy we were visiting. But they remained quiet...in the walls, under the floor.

We toted out what we could repair and use first. An old dresser with a beautiful mirror was the first to emerge. It wouldn't be hard to fix, as it was quite intact. The old steamer trunk we pulled out of the corner will take more work, but would be beautiful with a little tlc. We also recovered three dining chairs, an old wooden tool chest, and a second dresser for Steve's cousin, Sarah. That was supposed to be it for the big pieces, but a trip to the garage revealed and old school bench, and a metal bed. I couldn't help but to think that I wish I could fix all of it - but there were things I just couldn't use, and I had provided us enough projects to last at least a year.

The furniture was amazing, but it was the small things scattered about that most stirred my heart and my imagination. Hanging on a hook in the stairwell was a blue satin strapless prom dress. The waist was tiny, and I wondered which of the Miller girls had danced in it and what their partner looked like. Did he wear a white jacket? Glasses? And did she think him handsome? Did he steal a kiss at the door before he went home? That house was full of girls, and the evidence was everywhere. They had been arts and crafts pros, making pictures for the walls which their mom framed. I saw them lounging under plastic chandeliers of green and gold that hung from the ceiling. Perhaps they read some of the Reader's Digest condensed books in the book case, pages yellow and damp. We found postcards, letters and cards sent with love, property deeds and and old cash register. Pots, pans, and antique kitchen utensils were still scattered on the table, and a cook book copyright 1915 sat on the countertop.

But in the midst of what was left in this old house, we found a family - we took a peek inside their lives. I thought it a shame that everything, so lovingly touched and cared for was now left lying on floors and moldy sofas. Our lives, I think are too busy to treasure the old, to see the beauty in things touched by those who have gone before us. What is old becomes trash, and we buy something new, cluttering our world with more stuff, instead of caring for the old, and taking ownership.

I know the task ahead is a little daunting - cleaning up the furniture, polishing the metal and reconstructing the drawers. But the beauty of it is that the spirit of the stuff remains. When I pull out a drawer in the old dresser, and place linen napkins inside, I will do what Grandma Miller did years ago. And her heart will join with mine for just a moment. She will smile from the other side when her grandson sits on the chair she carefully chose to match the table that exists somewhere else.

Today I will begin the process, and it will be a perfect day. I will clean the wood, and wash out the pots. I will take care to be gentle, and will find time to reflect on a time when these things were used and the people who cared for them before me.

And so time passes, and remnants of life are left behind for others. I wonder what I will leave when I go. Will my grandson's girlfriend say, "Let's restore your mom's dresser," not knowing that it belonged to a woman who lived two generations before me. Should I leave a note inside the top drawer...this belonged to Steve's Grandma Miller, which she left for me to find in 2006. I'm not sure how old it is, but treasure it as I do.

the missing muse

2006-09-26T07:03:00.000-05:00

Some mornings I sit here wondering what the heck I'm going to write about. Today is one of them. I know that this whole blog thing is good for me. That it helps me to flex my writing muscles. And yet, there are times when there is nothing in my head that seems to need to be said.

When all else fails, I write about coffee. But even that doesn't seem important today. Maybe it's true. Good writing comes from pain. Right now I have none that I can think of. And so there are no passionate words to describe my anguish. And love...that's the other inspiration, but there are no words passionate enough to describe my love. What else is there? Is the world so black and white? I think not...

My muse...Annabelle...isn't doing her job. I hear her voice now saying...It's not me, it's you. You haven't been coming to the page. I'm here for you when you decide to settle in and get serious. And Natalie Goldberg would say...just keep the hands moving. So easy for you dear. Today it's not so easy for me. She also says it's okay to write crap. Okay...I'm writing crap.

Once during meditation, I asked for a mentor. And I was given Thomas Merton. This was scary. Have you ever tried to read his work. He's passed now, but when he was alive (and perhaps now, on the other side,) he was true genius. He was a Catholic monk, turned mystic with and Easternish philosophy. And so I guess we sort of came from the same place, making it only fitting that he might mentor me from beyond. Perhaps today I need to reconnect with his work, and ask for a little psychic intervention.

The voices in my head are saying...it's so you. Study, study, study...anything to keep from writing. They know me so well.

And there is laundry to do, my office to clean up, new curtains to hang. Not near as threatening as the writing. And reading is good. I could play with my new ipod - which by the way I love, thank you Jonathan.

So I could fill up my day with tiny tasks. Or I could get serious (says Annabelle). Now is the time I need Ronda - my cheerleader. She exists in the 3-D world and has always encouraged me when I need it. Minnesota, though closer than Houston, is still quite far away. She's probably already taking a class. (Anything to keep from writing, right Ron?) Are we that much alike? Perhaps I should get up early and drive there on Thursday...it's like driving to Austin. Or maybe we could meet in the middle, just to visit. (Another reason not to write...)

Now I've managed to get something down here...crap or not...I showed up.

wednesday again

2006-09-20T08:16:00.000-05:00

It is a good morning. Feeling quite chilly today outside, and Buddy seems to have a wild hair this morning. He's barking like crazy and I can't figure out why. Wednesday, perhaps?

Back on the learning curve...or the relearning curve. Can't remember, even in Ohio, the air feeling quite this brisk in September. Autumn has definitely arrived, and we, like the squirrels that are so bothersome, are preparing for the winter.

Attention Walmart shoppers...get over to aisle 7 for a killer sale on plastic to cover the windows and keep out the drafts that this winter will surely bring. Hot apple cider (irradiated, of course), now being served at rock bottom prices in the produce area.

And so, we scurry about, getting ready, yet again for a change.

My SO is quite the scurrier...checking the antifreeze, putting weather stripping around the doors, and making room in the garage for the patio furniture. He knows, I suppose. Yet I am not quite there. And while intellectually I know these preparations are necessary, I prefer to think of winter as quite a ways away - not just around the corner. It just doesn't seem real. I know there is a need to get gas for the snowblower and make sure that it's running, but it seems much more practical right now to mow the lawn, which remains green and growing despite the cooler temps.

Worst of all, my winter clothes seem quite dated...as they haven't been worn much over the last 22 years. And while it sounds like quite the chore, I must go through them and toss those that I will never wear. I do plan to do some shopping this afternoon. Boots? I suppose, and some warmer socks. I have been looking for long sleeve t-shirts, but most are too "cute". With little lace necklines, and so I guess it will be long john tops under my sweaters. They're comfy and certainly serve the purpose - but do they make them in the colors I'm into these days?

I do love the way the air feels just now. And the way the breeze seems constant. My summer color has been replaced by rosy cheeks. That's fall for you. But what in the world will I do with all the geraniums that continue to bloom. Will they live if I bring them inside? Or will they wither in the artificial heat and light? What I know is that the hearty aloe on the porch will make it through the cold...I think?

And so I prepare for my first winter in the Dakotas. I can't help but to think that as long as it's warm and cozy in my heart, the rest will take care of itself.

post weekend

2006-09-19T07:59:00.000-05:00

Most weekends my SO and I hit the road, at least that's what we did all summer long. He was stoked about it all the time, says that it's his way to relax and get away from it all. And after years - literally - of sitting around, I've been up for it, too. But if I'm honest with myself, I long for a weekend here and there at home. It's not that I don't enjoy myself at the lake. The company is good and it is quite a respite in a hostile world. On the other hand, I long for time alone with my man. I've joked about us always being gone...that he's afraid to spend time alone with me. And his only response is, "you bite." Well, only gently and with love, I admit.

And so this weekend we stayed home - at least sort of. We did wake up in our own bed on Saturday morning, and this was good...leaning on our pillows with no rush to start the day. But once we were up and awake, there was lots to do. Our finished basement was full of boxes from our moving months ago, and there were tools to move from the kitchen (where they'd found a temporary home) to the basement, where they would live permanently. Once the basement was cleared out and somewhat organized, there was a need in me to fill it again. Not with boxes and junk, but with real furniture. So off we went to the second-hand furniture stores and outlets to find little treasures for the "den."

"Den" is appropriate, since I imagine our spending cold winter nights in the cozy basement room filled with things we love.

We shopped - well I shopped and he tolerated my shopping. We bought things we'd planned to buy and things we didn't. We also bought miscellaneous stuff we'd written on a list, like a new AC filter and spray paint for the park benches we're refinishing.

Needless to say, we weren't home much. But we were alone and together, and this satisfied my need.

This weekend we will be staying home again as luck would have it. Two weekends in a row??? Can he manage??? I'm sure we will be busy getting the house ready for winter and finishing the projects we started last weekend (I do have an ashtray-turned-birdbath to show for it). And though I'm learning the meaning of "winterize", I am having fun.

Today I am grateful for home, and alone time, and my SO, and the pup, and the cats, and the way my world works these days. And not to be forgotten, coffee in a ceramic cup instead of a to-go mug.

thursday morning

2006-09-14T07:26:00.000-05:00

Just when you think you're out of the woods and things are going very smoothly, you're reminded of all of the parts of your life that you've been neglecting. For me...it's the yoga.

Exercise has never been high on my list of IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO. And unfortunately, I think, it might remain on the low end of the list forever. In my quest to ease the guilt, I began a yoga practice about five years ago. Believe it or not, it really worked for me. I found a great little studio in the heart of Humble, Texas (strange place for a great little yoga studio, you might think, as Humble tends to be quite a conservative place to be.) I pulled myself out of bed three days a week at 5:15 in order to greet the sun and a number of other students for class.

It began with breathing...lots of breathing. There are more ways to breathe than you might imagine, and we learned and practiced many of them. After a warm up, we learned to pose. Great posers we were, shaping our bodies in triangle, warrior, and cobra, pushing our bodies to the limit. And after a little sweating, there was meditation. Actually, the meditation (in corpse pose of course), was my favorite part of the class. After a yoga class, my mind was clear, and it was easy to shut out the voices that seem to be in my head most of the time. With a clear mind, I was able to meditate, allowing my body, mind and spirit to merge into pure energy. Okay, maybe that sounds a little hokey, but there were times when I actually felt myself leave my body behind. But I digress.

Whenever we get too comfortable in a spot - like I am here in the SLRH in South Dakota, the spirit says, "Enough already. You've got work to do." And so the universe sends message after message until you get it. The messages began with a little conversation about yoga, then my body started feeling a bit tight. Last night, at my meditation group, we listened to an audio recording about meditation, and finally, the book I'm reading has an entire section where the protagonist lives in an Ashram.

I get the message.

If I'm honest, even though the thought of re-starting my yoga practice sounds like a big responsibility, I'm longing for it. That sense of connection I feel when I find the silence within. To touch again the divine in me seems like the right thing to do.

Today I will dig out the Native American flute music, round up some incense, and dust off my meditation pillow. I'll start there. Some breathing, stretching and finally some meditation. And as luck would have it, my schedule is somewhat clear (she says as if time is anything but one moment after another.)

Namaste

a walk in the park

2006-09-12T10:37:00.000-05:00

Last night I was reminded that life is indeed a walk in the park. So many times, hemmed in by the insanity that we think is our lives, we forget that life is about joy, about doing what makes one happy. And when a little reminder comes along that kicks us in the shorts, we breathe again.

So today I am breathing, thinking about the couple we came upon as we walked through Seratoma Park last night looking for the perfect woody spot to have our pictures taken. It was 6:30 or so when we left home with directions from the photographer, and the sun was still in the sky, though barely visible through the clouds. We walked down what had been aptly named the Woodland Trail wearing sweatshirts as the temperature was dropping. There were few people out walking, perhaps because the mosquitoes were thick. We were keeping a good pace and enjoying the peace, laughing and talking. The company was good as it always is.

A little ways ahead of us we saw a mature couple. I say that because my understanding of the word "old" is changing these days. She was dressed in khaki pants and a matching jacket. Her white hair was twisted and clipped up. She held the hand of a man dressed in blue jeans. Though we couldn't really hear them talking, she seemed to be listening attentively as she looked into the man's face. Her smile was genuine, as if his words warmed her heart.

It didn't take long until we got close enough to pass them by. It was then that I realized that they weren't talking at all, but in a low and melodic voice, he was singing to her. I'm not sure of the song, only that she glowed in the music. Arm in arm they made their way through the woods, surrounded by beauty and bathed in love.

Steve and I looked at each other and smiled. We were thinking the same thing. One day we want to be like them. Steve said, "I can't sing." And I said "it doesn't matter as long as you talk to me." He pulled me closer and we slowed down a bit, both lost I think in our own thoughts. We met them again later, as we had stopped by a little lake to watch the fish, and he smiled at us, but continued singing to the woman he would always love.

One day they were young and in love. They shared the trials of life, probably raised their babies together. There were good times and bad times. And when things got rough, he sang to her. And that music and their love kept their passion for life alive. And last night they walked together down a quiet path, appreciative of each other. They left the insanity of the world behind and found joy in each other.

So life is indeed a walk in the park. Breathe it in.

falling...

2006-09-06T09:28:00.000-05:00

So the leaves have not yet begun to turn into the collage I remember, but autumn is indeed in the air. Evenings are perfect for wrapping myself in a blanket outside in front of the fire. Here it is quiet. There is no need for human words as crickets sing and stars glow. There is only me and Steve in our not so SLBY.

I am looking forward to the change in the season, having not really seen that for so long. And even winter seems exciting. A little crazy, but as my life has changed, it seems only appropriate that the environment in which I live change, too. The roses may not know it, as they continue to bloom as if they sense the coming of spring. I can see at least 14 buds from my window. The sun falls on their faces as they reach still toward the sky. They are my everyday miracle.

My last angry post was validated for me again this past weekend, as I met yet another woman who found herself curled up in a ball on the pavement after being battered by a man who says, "I love you." I am resolved to be a part of the solution.

Empowering women seems impossible in a world where we have forever been second class...or third. Perhaps wearing pants is not the solution. Perhaps instead it is tapping into the goddess energy in all of us. The goddess who is beautiful and fierce, who creates life, and who nurtures would not accept this treatment. She would eat a man for lunch. And she is there, waiting for the right moment to make her move. My resolution is to help women find her in the depths of their souls, to call her forth as protector.

And when the battle is fought, she will recline on a bed of rose petals and sip nectar saying..."don't *^%$*&@ with me."

And she will again give and receive love that doesn't hurt, no matter the season.

strength and courage

2006-08-31T07:40:00.000-05:00

I can't help but write about women this morning. This is an old topic, but must need to be revisited because it's omnipresent in my world this week.

I am acquainted, either very closely or distantly to three women who are in the middle of man made drama. This I mean literally. Men make it, they live it. Or perhaps these women make it??? This morning I am not sure.

The names here have been changed to protect the (almost) innocent.

Jody lives with Mitchell. She doesn't like him anymore. He is not happy about this. He threatens her. They have very ugly violent fights. She has two small children. She says she's moving away. He comes too. The cycle continues. She says she tries to tell him, but he won't leave. When he does leave, he steals from her, pawns her stuff, and threatens her. She says she doesn't have the strength to fight. She says she's trying. She is tired of being a victim.

Amy lives with Jason. She has two teenage daughters. Jason is physically and emotionally abusive. He is also an alcoholic. She says she can't take it anymore. But every night she goes back home and puts herself and her kids in the line of fire. She is afraid of him, that he might really hurt her the next time. He threatens to kill her. She gets a new place to live in the country. She can't tell him he can't go along. He goes anyway. It gets so bad she says she's going to leave. Someone offers her a safe place. She goes back to him anyway. She doesn't have the will to fight. She is a victim.

Alison has been living with Paul for five years. They are engaged. The relationship has always been rocky. They have split up numerous times, but each time she goes back for more. He is angry - all the time. He is jealous and critical and constantly harasses her, accusing her of being with other men. He has mental disorders and uses drugs and alcohol on a regular basis which causes him to be even more unstable. He hurts her. This week she sought refuge with a friend, and told Paul he has to leave. He packs his things (again) and leaves. She is afraid to go home. She is afraid he'll come back. She is weak when it comes to Paul. The cycle continues. She says it's different this time. Has she decided she is no longer the victim?

This cycle of abuse is everywhere. Spend some time in a group of women. The majority will tell you that they have "been there." I am one of them. At what point do we become accepting of this behavior? At what point do we begin to value ourselves so little that we live in pain and horror? At what point do we decide that we deserve better? How do we break this cycle?

I have no answers. Though I wish that I did. For me the turning point was a mini-breakdown of sorts. Perhaps on looking in on me, you wouldn't have noticed, as I went about my daily business without missing a beat. But inside I was broken, and I knew I had to save myself. Then I did. I worry that perhaps I will find myself there again for the sake of love, but my current relationship has no signs of dysfunction that I can see. And I like to think if it began to take that turn I would run as fast as I could in the other direction.

I talk to the women I mentioned above. Try to give them encouragement. Tell them life doesn't have to be that way. But they know nothing else. They don't believe me. They are afraid.

This pisses me off. And so today I hold the space for them to be courageous. To step up and say, "I deserve better, and it's out there for me." Someone has to hold it. I hold the space for them to save their children. I hold the space for them to break the cycle. I am here to say for them..."It is NOT okay!"

On the other hand, I know that I had to save myself. I had to dig the courage and strength out from under a boulder of fear and doubt and judgment. And under that boulder I found my voice. And once I found it, it began to scream. The tables turned, and all of a sudden, the power was mine. All I can offer these women is the small shovel of encouragement, then they have to dig...deep. And sometimes, the hole is filled with their own tears, but it continues to grow despite the saltwater. After digging and digging, which seems endless, a tiny voice can be heard. It grows louder and louder until we recognize it as our own. It screams, "I am worthy! I am beautiful! I am smart! I am strong! And I will no longer be your victim!"

I want you to know that I can hear you scream...and I'm listening.

No more excuses

2006-08-30T07:40:00.000-05:00

It's been a long time coming, but it is here. I have spent more than a year crying over red wine and my disheveled life. I have been disgusted, dishonored, disappointed and disinterested. I have been shot down, beat up, blown away and betrayed. I have been possessed, obsessed, misdirected and manipulated. But it's over, and I have no more excuses for not living my life.

So I had this birthday. And while turning 45 can be difficult for some people, it was not for me. I consider it my rebirthday. The very week of my birthday, I was set free from the past and reborn. This may take some getting used to. First of all, I am like a newborn baby, and everyday I make a new discovery. I see things I didn't see, and don't try to wrap them in all of the "things I know." These "things I know" (coincidentally) turned out to be "things I thought" were true. And so I have discarded all previous definitions and I'm making up my own as I go. This (it turns out) serves me much better. These new definitions are born of the soul - my soul. They resonate with me as TRUTH.

The first (and most important): Love, though it requires an occasional compromise, does not require SACRIFICE, nor MARTYRDOM.

The second: Love is a constant buzz. Sometimes there are highs, and sometimes there are lows, but always there is a hum of BLISS.

The third: Love CHALLENGES the soul. Not in petty controlling ways, but in making us look at ourselves through the eyes of another. It asks us to be the best we can be. This doesn't mean changing ourselves, but being our own truth.

The fourth: When one is loved honestly, there is no jealousy or doubt. There is no need to manipulate or play games to reassure oneself that Love IS.

As I'm only a newborn, I am sure that there will be more to see. I am committed to taking each new experience at face value, not applying old definitions, and clarity of thought. And as I become a toddler, and learn to walk, run and eventually climb a mountain, I plan to wear good shoes - shoes that keep me grounded in the basics. Shoes that allow me to dance when I feel like it, slow down when I feel like it, and won't mind being kicked off in front of a cool stream.

So the past is gone, and there is only now. This moment is all that exists, and in this moment I am happy and humming blissfully.

This hum also reminds me that there is work to do - my stories have yet to be told, and I am out of excuses. I must write. It is who I am and what I do (but didn't before my rebirthday). Pages must be filled with words - mine. I must also nuture my soul - meditation, intelligent conversation. And I must nurture my body - sleep, eat better and give up the smokes.

A newborn knows.

friday morning again

2006-08-11T07:38:00.000-05:00

It is Friday again, and when I compare my feelings from a week ago to my feelings today, I am reminded of how a few moments or hours can change one's life.

I have again been blessed by the Universe and her love and abundance. She reminded me that I am strong and powerful, and that when we join forces, amazing things happen. And while my mediation went well, what is more notable is my strength, courage and sense of self. I am no longer afraid.

I am overwhelmed tho, by the number of women I meet who have been where I've been, and who continue to feel less than able to stand up and say, "It's not okay." What is it that keeps us in relationships that are less than joyful, painful even? I wonder if it is our optimism and our expectation that love is always beautiful. What is it that causes us to stop believing that little voice inside that protects us from danger? When do we stop trusting our own senses? Our eyes show us anger...we offer an embrace. Our ears hear hurtful words, and we soothe. Our bodies suffer wounds that we explain away. And yet we go back for more.

Today I say listen to that little voice and trust your own senses. It will tell you IT IS NOT OKAY. Pain is a sign that something is amiss. And it is only after you pull yourself out of the fire, that you can heal. Get out of the line of fire.

And alone...it's okay - just right even. And for some of us, it is the only way to heal old wounds and gather our strength. It is the only way to remember just who we are. And in that private space, we can be who we are without ramifications, fear, and pain. And while loneliness may raise its face and say hello, it will leave as it came, quietly. And one day you will wake up and it will be gone, and you will have found ways to keep it at bay. Best of all, you will have found yourself again.

Life is good.

friday morning

2006-08-04T07:12:00.000-05:00

So I am off...today is the day I've been dreading. Yet somehow, I think it's better that it's finally here. And I will face the monsters.

My first thought about this whole thing is that I don't want to face it alone...but it is of my own making, and I will feel better at the end of it knowing I faced it alone. Through the entire ordeal, I have gained strength and courage. I am no longer cowering in the face of it. I am surrounded by the support of those close to me...and if I close my eyes I can feel this. No physical arm around my shoulder is necessary when good energy envelops me. I am never really alone then.

It's time to prove that I am no longer willing to be taken advantage of, nor taken for granted. This I can do. I have licked my wounds and am ready for the confrontation. (god i hate confrontation.)

I wish I had something insightful to say...something wise and inspiring, but there is only this thought. Git 'er done. (thank you larry.) And the outcome is not nearly as important as the process - that I stay focused, strong and in integrity. And I will look good. Had a manicure and pedicure you know. I can still wear that power suit, and I have lost a few pounds. Looking good always helps.

When I get to feeling lonely, I will think of my view of the stars from the dock last weekend. I will think of the beauty of that single moment, hold it in my heart, and know that I have chosen well. That my decision was the right one. And that my life will continue on a new course of discovery - of the world, and of self. Woohoo! What a ride.

I smile and think of the end of things...and the beginning.

tick, tick, tick

2006-08-02T07:59:00.000-05:00

The days dwindle between now and Friday, when I leave for Houston to face the monsters. I have tried to paint smiles on their faces in my head...but it's not working.

The monsters have names, and each one has called to remind me of all of the things I'm not doing right. They have surfaced just now, telling me I am not good enough, not worthy, not smart enough, not a good sister, not a good mother, not a good person. They even reminded me that I have tiny boobs and that I am not the pretty one.

I think the only way to send them away is to be willing to be not good enough, not worthy, not smart, not a good sister, not a good mother and not a good person. I am willing to accept my tiny boobs, and not to be the pretty one. If I can embrace this...than perhaps I can face them, because then the monsters will be all bark and no bite. They will not be able to make me tremble. My strength may come from the humility this brings.

Embracing our imperfections, now there's a thought. Never was really good at that.

Last night, I had a long conversation with a good friend about my move here. What I realize now is that it gave me an opportunity to find the lost Melissa. No one here "expects" me to be anything other than what I am. I like this. Unfortunately, it will pass. Soon, I will have painted for them a picture of who I am. And when I fall short, and don't "look like" the painting...they will be disappointed. They will say, "who are you?" The cycle will repeat itself.

So, I ask myself, what can I do to prevent this? Should I paint an imperfect picture...where the colors clash and the balance is off? I guess that the key might be to find out who I am, then look in the mirror, and paint from the image I see there. Will the real Melissa please stand up...tiny boobs and all.

I seek...make the journey back to the day I was born, when the world didn't know who I was, and I was just being me. I cried when it felt right, ate when it felt right, got up, went to sleep and laughed when it felt right. So then...feeling the feelings and acting appropriately may be the answer. This I have to relearn - this authenticity. I have to learn that when the monsters call to scare me, I can hang up the phone, because it feels right...I can fight back, throw stones and run into the cave for protection. I can scream in my biggest, scariest voice..."You won't eat me." And when they see me for who I am, they will scratch their heads and just go away. Or maybe we can find a way to live in harmony.

watching

2006-07-28T08:41:00.000-05:00

This morning I am watching the birds. At last, their bird feeder seems to be their own. Up to this point, the squirrels have been invading the property, scattering their seed on the ground. They didn't seem to mind it all that much. They just picked it up off the ground and ate it...they don't know the 5-second rule. My SO, on the other hand, really minded it. The squirrels became public enemy #1.

It began the first night we hung it on a really leafy branch. By morning, the squirrels had all but destroyed it. The cedar gazebo had been knocked to the ground - the cord chewed through - and the seed strewn. Tiny squirrel teeth marks scarred the wood. The bird feeder lay in pieces. The house could be salvaged, but a little remodeling was in order. One trip to the hardware store and Steve thought he had it handled. He put the feeder back together and hung it from a thick piece of steel wire. Then he filled it with seed. And he watched.

The next morning, while the feeder remained in tact, the squirrels and birds were again, feeding off of the ground. The squirrels it seemed, had found a way to dump it. The mound of seeds under the feeder grew day by day. Woodland creatures came to feast. Forrest, the baby cottontail and his mother among them. Steve filled the seed everyday - it was starting to be out of control.

Sneak attacks were also being made on the windchimes that we had placed in the trees. There was one casualty, as the squirrels chewed on their strings. All ended up on the ground, dead soldiers. We were able to resuscitate two of them, but they remain in sick bay, while we come up with a new location.

The BB gun was next and my SO was on a mission. He wouldn't kill them, he said. Just teach them a lessons. Well, the squirrels are slow learners. He popped them in the head, on the butt, but they came back for more. It was as if they had little squirrel armor keeping them safe. As if every morning they donned their little helmets and went to feed. "Hey, watch for the sniper at 6 o'clock."

Needless to say, this tactic was unsuccessful, so he decided to move birdseed central to a new location. And so last night, after a trip to the hardware store, he feeder was secured. It now sits on top of the cement post that once held a clothes line. It is suspended from a piece of metal that extends about 2 feet from the post. And from my position here by the window, the squirrels haven't figured out just how to get up there. Gathered at the bottom, they scheme and plan their next attack. Every once in awhile, one of them darts over to the remnants of the pile of seeds that remain on the ground where the feeder used to be for a light snack. And the birds, well they seem to enjoy the view and the seed from this new location.

And so I watch...and enjoy the show. Has the war possibly been won? Or is it just detente?

return flight

2006-07-27T09:01:00.000-05:00

Thinking about Houston and my reluctance to visit. One week from tomorrow I will be on a plane headed back. I know it is something that needs to be done, will tie up loose ends, and will leave me feeling as if there has been forward motion. Still, I am reluctant. When I left it behind, watching it fade into the distance in the rearview mirror, I was thrilled to be moving on - starting a new life in a new place. I could glance as the city passed by, knowing that I could shake the dust from my boots and walk a new walk.

As I plan this trip, I realize that I must look Houston and all it means right in the face. Deal with unresolved issues and confront the fears I have about myself and my own weaknesses. This doesn't sound like fun. I wish I were going to visit friends, see my kids and laugh a lot. But this is business. How will I stand up to it? Will I find the strong voice that I know is inside of me?

I have been practicing. I have been speaking my truth. For the last year I have been *VERY BRAVE*. But it's as if Houston brings out the weakness, and reminds me of all that I did not do, did not say. When I look at all the stuff, I realize that I am really the angriest at me, for living a life that was not okay. For not standing up for myself. And I look at this trip as an opportunity to undo all of that - well, maybe not undo, but to make it better. To do what I couldn't in the past, and to stick up for myself.

Ann has agreed to stand with me. Her presence will, I hope, give me courage.

I was thinking about what Roger said last weekend, that I had the balls of an elephant. I'm sure he was talking about my move to South Dakota, and being able to be fearless about the future. He would be surprised to see this other side of me. The side that has no balls at all. The side that quivers at the thought of confronting this past of mine. I'm thinking that it would be a good thing to write his words down on a sheet of paper to take with me to the "meeting." So that I will smile and see myself as a courageous - but gentle - giantess. This picture will help. Maybe I should draw her. She will be beautiful and strong, and her mouth will be open. (She is never afraid to speak.) And perhaps she should wear a tiara.

I wonder how many times I will return to Houston, and if my visits will always inspire these fears, or if instead, one day I can look this city straight in the face and forget. Will I be able to return with excitement of seeing friends and family? To remember the joys that I experienced there? My hope is that one day I will feel Houston's heat and humidity as I disembark from an airplane, and feel bittersweet about my journey there, my extended stay, and the life I made for myself there.

I will make my reservation today...and will do it with the intention of creating a good visit - a productive visit. But I will be glad to get on the plane and come home at the end to the new life I've made here in the SLRH on 14th St.

the proposal

2006-07-21T07:12:00.000-05:00

Got a proposal from my soon-to-be-ex husband yesterday... funny how you begin and end a marriage with the same thing. Like the first one, it made my heart beat faster and left me relatively speechless, but for very different reasons. The first time I was excited, thrilled even. This time I was angry, disgusted and shocked that he might believe that after 17 years of marriage I would walk away with less than I deserve. So I took last night to think about it and what I know is that there are many reasons that I got an apartment, took the dog, the daybed, and moved out. And perhaps the biggest reason of all was his selfishness. So this latest proposal should have come as no surprise. It's not the money really. The numbers don't matter as much as the principal of the thing. I did, after all, relinquish my very lifestyle to take care of him and his children, to financially support his whims, wise or foolish (the motorcycle for instance), and to live my entire life as "servant."

Okay, everyday wasn't a bad day. And some days were even joyful. But through it all I learned to keep the waters still to avoid angry outbursts and drinking binges. What he took from me was much more than my paychecks, but instead, my own sense of self. And he believes that offering me a smaller portion of what we owned together will make up for that. He's sadly mistaken. Nothing he can offer would be enough. It's taken me more than a year to find the person I was, who faded into the oak woodwork of the house on Castle Hill. And now that she's back, she won't sell herself short. Not this time. Fool me once with promises of love and I'm the sucker. I won't accept the second proposal...but only an agreement made on my terms. And this will surprise him, because he doesn't remember the person he met, who buried herself under motherhood and housekeeping. She was strong, assertive and smart...and she knew how to take care of herself. Always did, always will.

He would be shocked to know that I think he's selfish I think. Because he doesn't see it. He lives in fear and lack and can be nothing other than selfish. I, on the other hand, do my best to accept the abundance of the universe and know that there will always be more than enough.

My answer is no. I will not be her again. I will not let your proposal make me feel small or weak in the knees. I will not cower, or hide, or fade into the woodwork to keep the waters still. I feel a storm brewing. There will be thunder, lightning and strong winds. And no matter the aftermath, I will have won, stood strong, found myself again, and this is priceless.

gone fishin'

2006-07-14T07:20:00.000-05:00

Seems like a write about coffee a lot. Seems like I drink coffee a lot. I suppose it's because a hot cup of coffee is an integral part of every morning of my life. This morning was no exception. But it was different.

I was still in bed, trying to motivate myself to get up, when I heard the voice of my SO from the kitchen calling my name. He said, "There's a problem with the coffee." How could there be a problem with the coffee? I make coffee every night and set the brew cycle so that I will be greeted with the rich aroma and a fresh pot when I wake up. So I rolled out of bed and made my way toward the kitchen. There was a problem with the coffee. Instead of a full decanter, it was half full, and the remainder was on the white floor and dripping down the side of the cabinet. I was clueless. I grabbed a towel and started to clean it up, but paused to pour a cup, took a drink, and finished cleaning up the mess. The phone rang. It was the sister of my SO. She was upset because she wanted to go to the lake with us this weekend, but her husband wouldn't "let" her.

Wow...this day was going to be different. The coffee and quiet I usually enjoy before the day begins was no where, and I was in the middle of it all. Not a morning person, I have a hard time relating to anyone before 7. I had no words to calm Belinda, nor did I have the desire to clean up a kitchen mess. Then I remembered the events of the night before. Business stuff gone wrong. Chaos is in the air today, and there is nothing I can do about it but cut and run.

I did clean up the mess and make another pot of coffee. Now I wait for the phone to ring signaling more chaos as I drink my coffee.

Can I design my day sans chaos? Create a day that is peaceful when the world around me is running amok at dawn? I'd like to believe the answer is yes. And so I will refrain from talking on the phone, shower, pack a small bag and disappear to the backyard where the bluebonnets are blooming until my SO arrives to whisk me off to a place where my phone doesn't get a signal and Bo makes me coffee every morning. Sometimes I think that our weekend trips to the lake come too often - but on days like today, I'm glad we have this place to get away, to fish and sit around the campfire, to make s'mores and sleep in.

If you have drama to report, or chaos on order, don't look for me here....after I finish my coffee, I'm "gone fishin'".

good morning world

2006-07-12T05:56:00.000-05:00

This morning I was thinking about Bailey, and how he used to wake me every morning before 6, and how I didn't like it much, but got used to it. Since he's been gone, it's unusual for me to be at the computer before the sun actually rises. But today I am. And so I'm here, thinking about when this used to be a regular thing. I am strangely conscious of the changes in my life. Seems like my whole life I heard the phrase, "all that is constant is change." Somehow, these days, there seems to be no truer thing.

A consultation with the "other side" affirmed what I've known for awhile...that the teaching has run its course, and that I won't be doing that anymore. And so I am left with the question, "what next?" And I'm sure I don't know the answer. I keep waiting for a sign to point me off in some direction. Don't see it yet. Lynnette says I should write Steve's story. It feels like the right thing to do, and yet somehow I know he wouldn't want it on paper. He holds it close. How could I convince him that it needs to be told. The cast of characters would be colorful, and they are oh-so-real. The story is painful and harsh - the plot hard to conceive for most people, including me. Life is indeed stranger than fiction. There is no ending...at least not yet, and this will write itself as time passes. Will he live "happily ever after?"

The sun is rising on my SLRH and my SLB. The flowers we planted out back are growing tall and beautiful. Best of all, the bluebonnets have indeed shown their rich color. I can see them from the window and they make me smile. They have answered the question I posed when planting them with a resounding "yes" - a transplant from Texas can indeed thrive in South Dakota. Geraniums, bachelor buttons, zinnias, and some other pretty little blooming things form quite a border in front of the stone that marks the property line. And when I sit out back watching the birds that frequent the feeder, I know they agree...this is a good place to be.

The property management company is going to paint the outside of the SLRH, or cover the wood with vinyl siding. Perhaps I will have to rename this place. With a nice yard and a nice house it may become my LLRH (Lovely little rent house). It will be restored to the beauty it once was. Change happens, and with it we change, or become ourselves again.

fearlessness and other things

2006-07-10T08:03:00.000-05:00

The beach was beautiful, as it always is. And it was great to see my family, as it always is. But this year was different. I guess it's because I'm different. I think it changed the dynamic of our interactions.

I think the biggest change in me has to do with fearlessness. Okay, if I'm honest, I do have fears. But sitting here they elude me. But these fears small in comparison to those I used to have. I used to be afraid to be myself. Those who know me might find it difficult to believe, because no one knew. I never admitted it out loud. I just kept the monsters at bay. Mostly, I was afraid to speak. I was afraid to say what was on my mind. I was afraid to push any boundary that might make someone uncomfortable.

I talked to my friend Kathy, and she said she never saw this in me. And I have to admit there were a few people who gave me the space to be myself. There was a sense that no matter what I said or did, they would accept me. And with these people I was authentic. Mostly, these people were non-threatening personally. I had nothing to lose by being myself. But when it came to my family, my kids, my marriage...I was careful, always waiting to be "found out." I was afraid they might find out that I was not the best daughter...the best wife...the best mother. They would discover that for all my wisdom, I didn't have all the answers. In fact, it was easy to give advice to others. After careful research, I could tell them what herb to take for what ailment, how to fix their love life, how to craft a story, how to talk to their kids, and how to build a balanced layout. But when it came to my own stuff, I was very careful. It was hard to make decisions because they might be wrong. And so I did nothing. And after awhile, I found myself a spectator in life. I found that I would dream about adventure, about love, about life, and I would write about it. But the reality was...I was not living my life.

And then, one day I stopped sleepwalking and decided that I wanted to participate in life. To be an adventurer on the road. And I realized I don't have to please everyone...in fact...it was impossible. And so then it became important to please me.

Some people say I'm crazy for moving to Sioux Falls. But I know it was the sanest thing I've done in years. It's sane because it's what I wanted. I followed my own truth. I became a participant. Taking a risk, I found that there were no scraped knees and no bruises. It wasn't scary at all. It was right.

Last night I sat on a rocky river bank and thought about the fact that I spent years not swimming in lakes or rivers because I couldn't see the bottom. The unknown scared the hell out of me. My soul longed to plunge in. My friends were already in the water...finding rocks big enough to stand on. And I wavered. And then I thought about the fact that I had watched fearless people all of my life - participants, and I wanted to be one of them. So I took a deep breath and walked in, slowly at first. The water was warm and clean and beautiful. I was surrounded with walls of rock that rose from the water and towered above me. Soon I was swimming where I couldn't touch bottom, and I felt alive...really alive.

Living is good.

friday again

2006-06-23T07:55:00.000-05:00

Only this one is different in some ways because I am officially on vacation. Tomorrow morning we leave for Myrtle Beach...and as luck would have it, I'm mostly packed, which means a little last minute shopping is in order. At least that's the plan.

I intend to do some real exploring of downtown Sioux Falls. Though I've visited a couple of the boutiques down there, I have yet to do serious shopping. And it's a little scary. It's the kind of town that could get a girl in serious shopping trouble. As far as I can tell, there are two main streets lined with tiny shops that carry art, jewelry, cute clothes...you know the type. And they're quite a bit different than "the Mall" (which I've only visited once - I'm not the "mall" type). I'm sure I'll find a place to stop and have a cup of coffee, as there are tables and chairs along the sidewalks. I may get distracted by the sculptures that stand at all the corners.

My only regret is that one of my sisters or a friend isn't here to shop with me. Ann and I for instance...we shop great together. She always knows what I should buy, and I always know what she should buy. We're great at pushing each other over the edge when either of us is indecisive. And that's what a shopping buddy should do. But only if it's the right thing at the right price, or at least one we can live with. I do miss my favorite little shop in Kingwood - the one with the paintings of the elegant monkeys - the one where I bought the dragonfly bracelet when I needed it most. I will have to visit when I'm back in Houston.

I may even put on makeup today, and wear good shoes. Since I was on deadline all week, I haven't been too worried about my appearance. Haven't done much with my hair and my nails need some work.

And tomorrow afternoon, I will be on the beach or at least close enough to catch the scent of the sea. And I will be surrounded by many of the people that I love. I will laugh with Emma, and talk to her about her new kitty Martin (with the emphasis on the last syllable). And I will hug my dad and mother. I will have a whole week to play with my sisters. And I will relax.

Steve says he's a little nervous, which explains why he's leaving on Tuesday. I guess I don't blame him...it's better to get to know my family in small portions, I think. But I am not nervous at all for him to get to know them. He is kind, gentle and has a loving spirit. It will be a perfect week, and I will revel in it. And I hope he will love them, as I do. And that he will laugh and be himself and be comfortable after awhile. And I hope that when next summer comes, he will say, "when are we going to the beach?"

It will be awhile before I'm here again, in front of this screen. And I will make memories in the meantime. With sand between my toes I will be revitalizing my spirit, renewing my creative energy, and refreshing my soul.