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 |  This was my first blog, maybe my best blog...nah! The journey continues with another..!
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Check out this signature's match at Thomas  's blog** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "You want to become aware of your thoughts and choose them carefully. You are the Michelangelo of your own life; the 'David' you are sculpting is YOU!" Dr. Joe Vitale
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| There are times when I really like working at this hotel in Rochester, MN, home of the famed Mayo Clinic. This medical facility is most famous for its cancer research... Cancer is something that has never touched my own family, the bloodline I come from. We have mood disorders, skin issues, and other sundry pesky medical frailties along the way...but cancer has never been one of them. I don't know why both factions of my family have been spared. Cancer never touched me personally until Iowegian Skye called me one Sunday a couple of months ago to tell me her mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer. She has since had her operation, is undergoing treatment, and is expected to make a full recovery and live a long life. I'm so relieved I feel practically dizzy. For the first time in my life I get it, I know what cancer can do. I live in Rochester, MN and I work at a hotel where 75% of our guests are Mayo Clinic patients. It's a humbling, gratifying, eye-opening experience.I have to write it: some of the patients who blow in and out our doors here are-yes it's true-hypocondriacs. It's easy to spot them. They whine A LOT and ask for our wheelchairs and regale us with their tales of woe, none of which are really very deadly if you listen closely enough. These are the guests I have to walk away from and roll my eyes at behind the walled partition. I think about how they keep the Mayo clogged when there are so many other people who really do need it. But I shake it off and paste on a smile, giving as much sympathy as I can stomach. It's what I'm paid to do. Then there are the ones who are anything but whiners. They are gravely ill and they know it, but they're tough. They smile, they banter, they gesture from wheelchairs and around walkers and slowly, with unsteady, choppy movements, go in and out of our facility, here. I hold the door for them, help with luggage, smile back and talk about little things like weather...inevitably we get to what they're here for. Cancer treatment, innovative research that has given them hope where a year or two ago there was none. I nod, I smile some more, I try to make what sounds like an informed comment here and there, all the time feeling inside me a sort of respect and almost an awe for these people and what they go through. They hand me credit cards; most of them staying here are able to pay for nights and months of hotel stays and treatments I never could. I'm not insured right now, and I certainly don't have an endless supply of credit  At this point in my life I live a meager existance-hoping that will change, of course-but the wake-up call...oh the wake-up call I recieve when I realize they have what I don't, but I have what they don'tA 20-yr-old man wheeled inside in his electric wheelchair, state of the art. He was hunched over, struggling to maintain even the semblence of balance necessary to remain upright and mobile in the chair. But his eyes are intelligent, his face creased with wrinkles of too much pain and the effort it takes to live every day, to manuever into that chair and wheel his way from dr's appointment to clinic to pharmacy. His father talked to me, his eyes darting around, not quite meeting mine because I don't think he wanted to share the extent of his own pain. He's used to brushing it under, pushing it away, being "stoic." His son, the smiling young man, has muscular distrophy. Now he also has cancer. Tomorrow the son has to go in for an operation to find out how deep and how far the cancer has gone and whether anything at all can be done for him. They think maybe not. He didn't tell his son that, he said with his eyes now creasing to hide the extent of HIS pain. They just told their son the cancer needed to be taken out. He doesn't know what he'll say if the worst is discovered tomorrow. I nodded and listened, my own eyes creasing in an empathy of this father's pain. I have a twenty-yr-old (on April 9th). She works at Target and is planning a return to college. She's looking towards a distant future. That father's son is looking towards tomorrow. With a smile. Blessings. |
| I have committed to several things this month, two of which have everything to do with writing. I've committed to writing a blog entry every single day and I've committed to the April writing event called "script frenzy." I have to write for these events every single day, something I know I need desperately to do. My soul is encased in the written word. Without it I shrivel and you know what? I haven't been a consistent writer for months. I have all kinds of excuses for why I haven't been expounding in print: I'm too tired-and I truly am always tired. I'm too busy-and I truly do seem to have something to do almost every minute of every day. I have nothing to write-this excuse has become more real as time goes on. Isn't it funny how, the more we don't write the less creative we feel? When I write, even when I force myself to write, my brain begins to churn and the ideas begin to flow. Without the action of writing...it's almost like my brain cells freeze, then wither, then begin to lay dormant until I allow them to breathe again. By writing. So why do I do this? Why do we as humans do this? We resist the very activities designed to enrich us, encourage growth within us, and ultimately take us to the places we need to go, where our lives will be enriched. You know what I mean...we all do it. Other aspects of April for me: I'm committed to getting a higher paying job. I don't want to live hand-to-mouth. I don't like it. I want to be able to plan for the trip to Chicago, a weekend in the Twin Cities, that fancy dinner with the man of my dreams  I want to have a degree of freedom that only savings in the bank can provide. I can't save and travel and enjoy my life until I'm able to finance it. So no more sitting on my laurels, feeling sorry for myself, making excuses. YES I'm tired, YES, I'm busy, and YES I'm not feeling real adventurous right now...but that's because I've allowed myself to lay down and wallow. I don't want to wallow. I don't like it, so April is the month I'm not going to DO it anymore! I like the fighter in me too much to keep stifling her.I'm going to get healthy. Why am I always tired? I know why. Yes I lead a busy life, but that's no reason for me to be this wiped of energy. I'm going out into the fresh air no matter how my knees crackle and I'm going to do my best to make them move. I'm going to eat better, sleep better, and FEEL better! *determination* So much of how we feel inside our heads depends on how we feel everywhere else. I'm ready to feel good all over. So there it is. My declarations and dedication to FOLLOW THROUGH during the month of April. You are welcome to read along and join the journey. *the whip cracks*  |
I am very extremely tired.  It all started a couple of weeks ago with a sinus infection, not even a bad one. It was a pesky little virus and the first one I've had all year; considering the severity of the winter we were dealt this year, I've been both surprised and gratified that somehow, for some reason, my immune system did its work-surprise surprise-and I didn't suffer the ill effects of many around me! I can't remember the last time I went through an entire winter season with little more than occasional sniffles- Since I could remember-I have a freaky memory and can remember back to bits and pieces when I'm little more than a year old-I have dealt with "THE COUGH." It is indeed its own entity and hasn't really changed much over the years. When I get sick with simple little sinus infections or cold symptoms, I will inevitably suffer from "THE COUGH" for weeks, sometimes months, afterwards. It's not your normal run-of-the-mill cough, either. It's deep, bronchial, and has been known to send drs out of the room in consternation, sure I must have the most virulant form of tuberculosis I do not. I never have. Neither have I ever been a smoker of cigarettes, cigars, or the occasional pipe. Nope. The proximity I've had to tobacco smoke has all been second hand. There are pictures of me as an infant with my father holding me facing him, a cigarrette sticking prominantly out of his mouth with the smoke curling all around my head. I have the same kind of pictures with myself and my grandfather, my mother's father with whom I lived after my parents divorced, until his death when I was eight. I do think there has to be a predisposition to asthma and chronic bronchitis for problems like mine to develop as a result of second hand smoke, but still...I never smoked, I never asked for smoke to be blown in my face in my infancy and young childhood, yet I suffer the consequences of it having been done to this day. And people ask why I'm such an advocate of new smoking laws which push smokers outside...I'm not trying to be unreasonable. I don't like to COUGH, which I do when I'm exposed to tobacco smoke for any length of time. As usual I have digressed  So I finally succumbed, this year. My body finally caught hold of a virus it couldn't shake. As a result, what started out as a virus without much punch mutated into, of course, THE COUGH It's not quite as nasty or petulant as it's been in years past. I've pulled a diaphragm muscle while coughing that resulted in weeks upon weeks of painful breathing, and the COUGH...labor was nothing compared to THE COUGH with a pulled diaphragm muscle. There are several problems associated with this entity I hide within my body:1. Sitting quietly in a public arena of any kind becomes a race against THE COUGH. Maybe I can hold out, probably I can't. Sigh. Don't accompany me if you're prone to embarrassment. Just sayin'. 2. Walking down the street or in a store or working at a hotel...people look at me with a startled expression when they hear it and pull away a little, then a lot. I try to explain that it's not contagious, it's not indicitive of poor health habits or a 5-pack-a-day cigarrette habit. Sigh. Usually they don't believe me and at the hotel I openly use the hand sanitizer regularly. My hands are getting chapped. 3. I. can't. sleep. Okay, I sleep. But I sleep in spurts, here and there before THE COUGH awakens me and I'm forced to change my location to a cooler area with more air flow or to at least a place where I won't keep everyone else awake. Really, it's a crazy way to wake up-this seal bark with some gravel to it-I feel sorry for my family during these times! 4. Because I don't sleep well I have no energy. None. My mind becomes a ball of mush and I do well to function on a minimally human level...thus the blogging got sparse. I couldn't think of anything to blog about, my mind blank until I was able to sleep even a little. It's so sad. I sit and stare into space...where was I? Oh yeah, mush brain syndrome. Heh heh. And yes, I've done it all, I DO it all. I suck cough drops, take cough medicine-sometimes I chug it, actually, shhhh! I get desperate for a block of sleep!! I have been known to breathe in steam *just makes it worse*. I take my inhalors, pop allergy pills, and sometimes am finally reduced to that horrible little pill called Prednisone *shiver*. That thing makes my stomach HURT and I have to eat almost constantly to avoid its eating my stomach...it's a steroid for those of you not "in the know." Eventually THE COUGH will dissipate, lessen, and finally disappear for another month, two months, maybe even five or six months if I'm really lucky. And I'll be able to sleep again, YAY!!! My "walking zombie" days will be over. Until the next time, that is. SIGH *COUGH COUGH COUGH* Excuse me.  |
| Somebody's Watchin' ME?? I'm just an average guy with an average life I work from nive to five, hey hell I pay the price But I want is to be left alone in my average home But why do I always feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone CHORUS: I always feel that somebody's watchin' me And I have no privacy I always feel that somebody's watchin' me Is it just a dream? On Friday, when I went by my workplace to pick up my measly paycheck and sign it over to the rental lords , the manager handed me a piece of paper. On the top was written "Employee Comment Card." My eyes narrowed. What should I write? Should I actually cut loose with everything that's been simmering within me for at least several months with concern to the people who run the hotel where I labor? I thought, I speculated, and pondered...and finally I decided: yes. Yes I am going to "cut loose" with what I want to say, write, and expound to the powers that be in this establishment. I've never been afraid to speak my mind and stand up for what I believe in my soul is right and true. I'm not going to start being afraid now. So here is what I wrote:At this point in my employment, I don't think I'm in a good position to answer these questions. [How would you evaluate management, etc] At the core of my discontent is my inability to pay nominal bills despite having a full time job. In many ways I like where I work. The General Manager is good with people and knows how to make the workplace as pleasant as it can be. That is why most of us at this hotel stay as long as we do. But I've worked WHG Corporation for almost seven months with no raise and no prospect of one. At the beginning I wanted to give my best and I tried, I really did, but no benefits and no raise, no "pat on the back" gets demoralizing. Now there is sophisticated surveillance equipment in place designed to watch almost every move we make during work hours. [These cameras are stragically placed in work areas, not the places where guests would be] With a close-up on these cameras-both web cams and closed circuit-you can see the pores on my face from the comfort of your homes and offices. I find this atmosphere to be oppressive and unnerving, and it strips me of common courtesy and of my RIGHT not to be spied upon. It feels downright ICKY. I have to wonder about a company that can't give me benefits or a raise, but CAN invest in distrusting me. Overrall, I get the sense that there is no interest in keeping employees long term because there would be a need for raises and benefits. High turnover translates into low pay and no benefits necessary. The hotel business is supposed to be a PEOPLE business and because of that I love it. I don't feel it from management, however, at least not in terms of US, the ones who keep this hotel going. Additionally, I've never worked at a hotel where the front desk staff is fully expected to do nothing more than stand for 8 solid hours and do "nothing more than hotel work." I have hotel experience and have discussed the situation with other hotel staff in this area. None of the ones I've communicated with have that kind of expectation for their own staff. It's more of the demoralizing, dehumanzing aspect we're facing here. AND we get no breaks at the front desk, being constantly tied to our phone for the duration of our shift...I wouldn't mind "no breaks" if we were given the opportunity to accomplish other tasks of our own when there is no "hotel work," but according to company policiy we can't. Employees DO have rights, but little by little, while I've been working here, our rights are being stripped from us. I understand the need for hotel employees to focus on their jobs. I comprehend the fact that too often, employees take advantage of freedom and fail to provide quality work. At those times THOSE employees should be dealt with instead of using blanket policy to take care of potential problems. I think I give better performance as an employee when I am treated with respect. That's a human condition, actually. The Golden Rule IS real: Treat as you wish to be treated and you will reap the rewards. I signed my name. Maybe if I were making a six figure salary I'd need to be more politic in the way I approach the problems I'm encountering at my place of business, but in actuality I don't make much above minimum wage for a job that...well, that's for another blog. I'll describe my job someday soon...stay tuned! As a post script, tonight I was folding towels-yup, front desk clerks also do and fold laundry-I was listining to the radio (and watching the monitor for action at the front desk with my trusty phone beside me), when a song came on that used to make me misty-eyed for a different reason than it made me misty-eyed tonight. It used to be that as much as my life was not the reality in the song, I couldn't help wishing it was. It sounded so sweet...tonight I was misty-eyed because now, it IS my life: The kids screaming, phone ringing Dog barking at the mailman bringing That stack of bills - overdue Good morning baby, how are you? Got a half hour, quick shower Take a drink of milk but the milk's gone sour My funny face makes you laugh Twist the top on and I put it back There goes the washing machine Baby, don't kick it. I promise I'll fix it Long about a million other things Well, it's ok. It's so nice It's just another day in paradise Well, there's no place that I'd rather be Well, it's two hearts And one dream I wouldn't trade it for anything And I ask the Lord every night For just another day in paradise Friday, you're late Guess we'll never make our dinner date At the restaurant you start to cry Baby, we'll just improvise Well, plan B looks like Dominoes' pizza in the candle light Then we'll tippy toe to our room Make a little love that's overdue But somebody had a bad dream Mama and daddy Can me and my teddy Come in to sleep in between? Yeah it's ok. It's so nice. It's just another day in paradise. Well, there's no place that I'd rather be Well, it's two hearts And one dream I wouldn't trade it for anything And I ask the Lord every night For just another day in paradise Okay, we don't have anyone with a teddy who comes to sleep in between except maybe the dog and cat-ha ha-but the rest of it is...so great. So special and so wonderful. Who cares about the job? I LOVE my life with Thomas . |
| With less than an hour to go before this day is over in Blogville, I'm happy we made it home from the St Patty's Day dinner theatre in time for me to write and post a HAPPY BIRTHDAY tribute to someone who has stood beside me for over twenty years, who has been my babysitter as I was hers , who has been my sounding board, my ever-present shoulder to cry on or rage to, my companion through thick and then, and most importantly...my friend. Iowegian Skye We met when we were young but we thought we weren't  We were mothers of toddlers-me with two and her with one who SEEMED like two *it's true, Brandon!* We were living in Germany, half a world away from our own mothers and the comfort and familiarity of home. Living amongst Americans in a small pocket, surrounded by foreign people and ways of life...it makes for fast and true friendships. We clicked from the start, Mandy and me. We had the same ideas about raising kids and mostly the same ideas about life in general. She was a quiet, sane presence to my often overexuberant, out-there way of doing things...I know that's verrry surprising to those of you who know us We used to walk everywhere in the German village where we lived. We'd stick the little ones in strollers and take off for the village in which we lived, talking and getting to know each other better along the way. We shared our greatest joys, our biggest fears, our laments about being so far from home and family when we had these toddlers to deal with. We both taught Sunday school at the local Army Chapel in the next town...I had to give my toddler Elizabeth to her on Sunday mornings even though I taught my child's age because-and you'll all find this quite in keeping with who Liz became...she wouldn't behave herself for me! Mandy taught kindergarten Sunday school, but when little two-year-old Elizabether went into HER classroom, she behaved herself admirably. In Germany Mandy and I rode the Army bus that came once a week to carry us hither and yon. Often we traveled an hour to what was called K-town, Kaiserslautern, because it boasted a large mall-like area for American soldiers and their families. We had some great times in K-town. We also had some great times getting there. Mandy drove as often as we rode the bus, and we would strap the children in their car seats, in the back of a German car and surge forward on our road trips. Brandon and Elizabether developed quite a rapport in the backseat of that car...they argued, these two little toddlers, CONSTANTLY, and they seemed to enjoy it immensely. Mandy and I still talk about how funny that was to this day. When we would eat lunch at the Burger King in K-town, Brandon would get Rachael's french fries and Rachael would get Brandon's cheeseburger. They both left full and we didn't have to cajole them to eat! And never fear, they're both quite healthy today-no ill effects from their lopsided diets! I returned to the States first, to St Louis, MO. As happens when distance and time intervenes, our strong friendship seemed destined to become as distant as the miles between us. We wrote when we could, when our busy lives allowed us the extra minutes to do so, but when we did write or talk on the phone it felt like we were still standing right beside each other...Mandy and her family moved first to Texas and then into Iowa. We were in St Louis, of course, and even though there were often stretches of silence between us and the miles, that closeness never waned. The distance never became literal. Eventually it was knowing Mandy resided in Iowa that drove me and my family into the same state. We tried to get closer to her in DesMoines, but in the end we had to settle for moving to the edge of Iowa...but still closer! We were able to see each other on a regular basis, finally! Thankfully, fast-forwarding to today, Rochester, MN is no farther from her than Moline, IL was. We're having a little difficulty finding the time to visit each other, but I'm not worried. We'll visit "in the flesh" again soon, and until then we call when we can, we write when we're able...she opened her home to me this last summer for longer than we thought we'd need; the poor woman put up with me, Rach, Sarah, our dog Buddy, the cat Pumpkin, and LIZ. She deserves a medal just for THAT!! And of course, she has been the most staunch supporter and cheerleader in my relationship with the wonderful Thomas , letting me know all the way that she knew he and I were meant to be-My friend Mandy, whose birthday lands on St Patrick's Day (which is the only reason I now remember what day it falls upon), is quiet a lot of the time unlike ME, ha ha. She's also strong of mind and heart. She's intelligent, extremely creative, kind, honest, and full of integrity. She makes me a better person because she's my friend. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Iowegian Skye . Thanks for making me better than I would be without you around...and here's to twenty more years of solid, amazing friendship. Am I BLESSED or what?! |
I'm writing, this evening, from a computer I will be able to use at will from home.  I haven't had one of these things at my beck-and-call for a while. Now I don't want to give you the wrong idea; Thomas has been great about sharing the use of his laptop. When we first got together, I was thoroughly charmed the day he created an account for me in his laptop computer because I know how very important it is to him. He loves mostly to write, but he also loves to unwind by playing a game or two here and there, and he enjoys being able to look up little-known facts when the notion strikes him to do so...*I do that too!* His laptop has probably been his most prized possession-next to his really nice blue Honda So when he offered to share the device with me even when I had my own-one I did share with Sarah and other family members when they needed it-I knew how special the gesture was. And since the laptop I used to have died its won't-be-charged-and-you-can't-make-it death, he's been extremely altruistic with offering up his computer and his time on it to me. My middle daughter, Rachael, has her own computer that was a graduation gift to her a year or so ago, and she offers hers to both Sarah and I regularly, albeit with less altruism than Thomas Yes, I've had internet access. I can still even occasionally get on the 'net at work here and there...But it's not quite the same. I didn't like taking computer time away from Thomas, and Rachael's gets used so much by her and Sarah that I'm loathe to add more time onto the poor thing! Tom would regularly lift up the laptop and ask, "do you want to get on?" Often I said "no" and it was true. I was tired or watching television or reading or something...but there was also the niggle that I just didn't like taking time I know is important to him. I like watching him frown with concentration, then smile when he writes, laugh when he listens to or watches something funny, grin when he discovers a new fact to share, or unwinds with a game he's intent on triumphing over. I like watching him enjoy himself! It's true that last Thursday I was at first concerned, then horrified, then utterly devestated to think I'd had a hand in rendering almost useless one of his prized possessions. We're not exactly "rolling in it" right now if you know what I mean, and I couldn't help doing some self recrimination at the thought that my klutzy carelessness-which I have in spades-was instrumental in the demise of Tom's Amazing Writing Laptop. I cried. Tom told me to stop. He lifted my head and told me I am more important than any laptop could be, and I understood and tried to be "okay" with the whole situation...but I wasn't. On Friday morning I still felt terrible and I was still lecturing myself about taking better care with valuable items, especially when they belong to someone of infinite value. When he called me at noon (Friday being one of my days off work) to tell me he'd like to buy a laptop he found at Best Buy, I heard the lilt of a question in his voice. If he could afford it there was absolutely no question in my mind. YES, my beaten-up brain cried, YES PLEASE! I knew he'd been wanting a new one anyway, and a sigh of relief ran through my body to think that perhaps some good could come of an unhappy circumstance. Tom came home that evening with the laptop, opened it up, and began to fill it with the programs and writings that will make the computer uniquely his *we even discovered this evening that the top of this lovely new machine is midnight blue, Tom's favorite color, and not black like he'd first thought. He likes it, he says. It's smaller than the older one, fast and new and I think he's having fun with it It doesn't have all the elements he'd like but he's excited about gradually getting what it needs for more of what he'd like. And me? True to "Tom" form, he went out, this last weekend, and bought a keyboard to plug into the old computer which renders it not quite so useless! He did it with me in mind and now we are both on a computer at the same time. He even offered me his new one, the sweet, sweet man...another true-to-Tom form. I'm happy with the keyboard and the computer that has been Tom's for the last few years. It permeates with his presence and for me that could never be a bad thing! Isn't it amazing how so much positive can come out of something first thought to be a devestating negative?? It's all in how you look at it. |
| A lady came into the hotel where I work this afternoon. I was pleasant to her the way I am to every guest who comes into the place where I work. Part of my job is "pleasant." I'm good at it...even when I'm not feeling great on some level, I pride myself on my ability to maintain "pleasant," occasionally in the face of adversity! The lady became irritated and then downright angry when I had to explain the concept of the "free night's stay" after two seperate nights in a Choice hotel. It's not that easy to acquire-is any of that promotional stuff? She huffed and puffed and rolled her eyes and got indignant and kept going on, asking why no one had told her of these "rules" for the free night when she called to make her reservation. Simple. She didn't ask. Then she got on the phone with the Choice people and proceeded to give the attendant an earful. I stood at the front desk and almost squirmed in discomfort at having to hear someone who didn't deserve it recieve a worse diatribe than she gave me, who didn't deserve it either, by the way. After the woman hung up with the poor unfortunate on the other line, she ran out of steam as I checked her in and said, "I guess I shouldn't have been that way with someone who doesn't make the rules." No kidding. Of course she had to justify herself with those two words: "But still..." NO "but still." The person on the other end of that phone didn't have any more control over the policies of a Choice Hotel than I do. We are both simple little workers who collect a paycheck FROM the people who make decisions. We don't make them. They don't ask us what we think or how they should go about implementing a rule or what they should charge. They don't ask us anything at all. We are given our black jackets with the emblem and our names on the front. We are told to stand and maintain "pleasant" no matter what and if we don't we are wrong. The honchos who make unpopular decisions about the way their businesses are run are protected by us, the "little people" who have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with what angers our patrons. We smile pleasantly through diatribes because that's what we're paid to do. It still doesn't feel very good to be on the recieving end of anger I didn't cause and can do nothing to prevent. I try to remember that when I'm on the phone with someone from the cable company or get annoyed by a "rule" at my bank or am fighting charges from the credit card company...don't take it out on the "little guy." I remember working at a supermarket, getting blamed for food prices  I've worked at an answering service and have been given more than one earful from unhappy customers who aren't getting the service they called about two hours ago...I'M THE ANSWERING SERVICE, stop yelling at ME! That's what I wanted to say. Instead I was pleasant. First of all I need to stop getting these jobs where I have to be "pleasant" in the face of verbal abuse...and second, I want to remember to NEVER, EVER treat someone the way I would not wish to be treated. And third...I am now informing any and all who find to my humble blog entry... Don't take it out on the "little guy." Fire off an e-mail to the honchos. Call his corporate office. Write a letter. Call Oprah or your local hotline number. But DON'T TAKE IT OUT ON THE LITTLE GUY! He could be YOU someday. |
| Eh, didn't make that "every day" mark I wanted to, did I? But this month has gone more positively in a blogging way than the last three, so I'm not going to complain to myself...not too much, anyway Last night Tom and I were at practice for the dinner theatre we're involved in. I wish I was better about and more patient with the idea of learning how to obtain and link pictures...yesterday Tom's picture was in the paper AGAIN-in character as Liam O'Shaughnessy. He's a poet, albeit a drunk one, so one part of his alter ego is type-casting...you decide which part I am a serving wench. And yes, Tom knows better than to call me "Wench" at home  It's a fun part although not rife with lines...any lines. I do, however, get to do a little jigging while I serve corned beef and cabbage with "lumpers." I also get to speak to the patrons with an Irish brogue, wear and off-the-shoulder peasant blouse with my long skirt and tan plaid apron, and ring a bell every time Debi-in her role as the barkeep's wife-says something about "me sainted grandmother." So I'm enjoying myself! Tomorrow evening we will be putting on the first show. The second will take place on St Patty's day, no less! *that would be Iowegian Skye 's birthday in case you're not aware* I'm looking forward to it and I think Thomas is, too. This will be far from my first experience in front of an audience as someone else, but I think it's the first time for Thomas. He's an amazing actor, however. I think he has been since birth; he just never thought about giving a voice-with an Irish brogue-to his ham-like tendencies! Irish Men There are only three kinds of Irish men who can't understand women— young men, old men, and men of middle age. I love that one! |
| Okay, I've promised that in my blog, at some point, I would spill some serious beans about Thomas . After all, he spilled some beans about me, did he not?? So let's get started! All right, lemme see...well, he's very forgetful and almost every other morning on my way to work I have to take him his cell phone because he forgets it on the bookshelf of our room...no wait...scratch that. That'd be me. Heh heh. Okay NOW I've got it! One time when we were at a friend's house-her name is Kit and you'll read more about her tomorrow-I looked down at the floor and said, "wow, I could never have a gorgeous white floor like that. You know why? Because even when the kids and the pets are gone I'll still have YOU! ...Okay okay. That was me, too. Actually Tom said that last part really nicely with a pat on the back..."I know honey, because we'd still have you." Really nice and really true. Oops. Okay WAIT! He's gotta have something I can rat him out on, right? Dammit!! *think think think* Ooh! I HAVE it!! Ahem...this really amazingly talented, smart, handsome man SNORES. There. Yes, it's true. Sometimes he snores sooo loudly the people down the street have called to find out why we have a cat-killing spree going on over here. THAT'S RIGHT! He has been known to rouse the people in the cemetary a few miles away. Whew. I HAD to come up with something, you know. I mean he wrote that thing about me-the toenail thing which was a COMPLETE fabrication...okay no it wasn't. But STILL! and... Tonight was most definately Thomas Harper NIght in our family. He received his 3rd place award from the local writing contest. After a fabulous introduction to the story given by a lovely woman who heads one of our writing groups, he read The Red Stamp to much acclaim. In the audience were many of our writer friends, his mother, and Rachael and Sarah. We were all intensely proud of THE SNORER! He's so cute when he snores...OOPS! |
| Sarah was in the newspaper today, on the front page no less- I knew when I saw it that the afternoon with her was going to be far easier than the morning This morning she was at her height of "teenage girl attitude," the sort of mood that makes me grit my teeth, clench my lips together, and list the reasons inside my head for why I shouldn't drop her off at school and "forget" to pick her up later...anyone who's had a teenage girl in their midst knows wheereof I speak We family members seem to exact the brunt of her moodiness and I'm tired and stressed, myself. It gets hard to remember how best to deal with these "little" issues...Sarah is mostly a nice, personable young woman. With her friends, at school, and in public she's charming, witty, funny, a little on the quirky side, and mostly she tries to do "the right thing." She does very well in school- many As and a few Bs- and her teachers expounded to me, last week, about what a good student and person she is in their classroom. She's also on the Rockettes, the high school dance team at her school, and even moved up to varsity dance during the latter part of the year. That's quite a feat for a freshman. She works hard, really hard. She always has. She's the one kid I've heard things about like, "she gives 110%." I never, unfortunately, heard that about the other two... I'm proud of her life choices so far, too. She'll tell me about some girls on the dance team who are "wild" and make bad choices and she says it with a frown of disapproval on her face. I tell her not to be judgemental but I'm glad she makes better ones...I asked her, once, about a girl whose mother I met, a girl on the dance team. I'd never heard her name. Sarah said yes, she's on the dance team but she's with a different crowd. She said it with a slight frown and I asked "what crowd?" "The wild crowd," Sarah responded. "I just don't want to be like that." Well cool for her and I'm glad to hear it...she even has a boyfriend, Sarah does, and he's a very nice young man, just turned 15. He's been to our house and they spent time with Thomas and I, eating dinner and watching movies. He's a good boy and she's a good girl. Nice, huh?? But then there is "Sarah-at-home-eaten-by-adolescent-monster". She's cold, mute, has a snarky kind of attitude and enough censure in her gaze to drop someone where they stand. She can wither with a look of disdain and drive a person crazy with her icicles of silence *we're supposed to KNOW what's going on with her, you know*! I love my daugher, I'm proud of her, and when I saw her face front-and-center on the newspaper today I felt that familiar maternal swell of pride and showed all my coworkers and a few strangers-"look, here's my daughter!" She even has a smaller face shot in the body of the article and is quoted at the end of it. The article, by the way, is about a new clicker system in her science class. Questions are shown at the front of the room and with this clicker, students can answer from their seats without even having to raise their hands. Technology at its finest Ah, parenthood. Thomas is getting quite a dose of what it's like to deal with a 14-yr-old girl. And I've told him she's one of the better ones. I don't know if he believes me. PS: She WAS in a better mood-much better...we've been known, in this family, to call her "the diva"! http://www.postbulletin.com/newsmanager/templates/localnews_story.asp?z=20&a=389... |
| We've all made promises. I make some I keep and some I don't. The worst ones I don't keep...they're the ones I make to myself. I'm really good at taking that "big picture" look at my life and knowing what's wrong and where I need to fix it, and then I'm good at proclaiming, quite often in this very blog, that I'm going to do what's needed to mend said issue. The glitch comes around with the actual DOING of it. I don't like this aspect of myself, I really don't. I make rash promises to others, sometimes, with the best of intentions that don't get followed-through on. I've promised, say, to put together a makeup party but I let the dates come and go without making necessary preparations and then OOPS! I've let someone down. I've promised things like my presence at an event or the library or lunch or...and when I don't follow through and leave another person with egg theoretically dripping down their faces...I don't feel very happy with myself or very good about being me.  WHY do I do this? To others and to myself?? I have no idea. I've tried to stop it and I'm not as bad as I used to be. Part of my problem is overextending. I have always done this from the time I was a teenager. I WANT to do all these things and I MEAN to do all these things...but I simply don't have the TIME for all these things. I have to admit to myself when I'm overextending. I'm better about this one but not great. Another problem with my "promises" is how many of them involve me putting ideas or visions of mine into fruition, bringing them into reality. I'm great with ideas and visions, not so great with getting them out and into the world. For some reason, some mechanism inside me balks when the time comes to make good on what I envision. Promises dropped, people disappointed. Most especially me. I started thinking about "the way I am" because of the promises I've recently made to myself that I haven't kept, like blogging every day. I don't have to write "the great American blog," I don't have to write anything except what's dumping out of my head-I know that, I've done that, so what's the problem?? Once again, I don't know. I used to blog every day, throw my entire being into the process, but since my other writings suffered and I felt all I was doing was blogging, I forced myself to cut back. I did and it wasn't so bad, at first. I started writing stories and articles again, and even poetry believe it or not! Then it got harder to come up with blog topics and even harder to carve out a little time to visit my own blog and then I started falling off of commenting in the blogs of my Blogville friends...! I wasn't happy with any of it; I love my blog, I love my friends here, so I've tried to get "back in the saddle" several times. It doesn't seem to be working. I promised myself-with Thomas as witness-that I'd blog every day this month because NOW other writing is suffering and I'm not writing...anything. So to jump-start myself I have to blog again, get back in touch with my head and my thoughts and why I love it so much, simply the writing process and typing what's spilling out of my brain. So why do I break so many promises? To anyone who's been on the receiving end of my broken word, believe me, I'm worse about it to myself. You're not alone. I'm not going to "promise" myself anything at this point. I'm going to just flat freaking do it. Maybe, just maybe, if I get a handle on this "blogging" crisis I can take baby steps towards improving this issue I have with unkept promises... See you tomorrow. |
| Tom and I made a pact on the 1st of March. We decided that to jump start ourselves into writing again-which always makes both of us feel better on every level-we needed to blog every day. I obviously have already hit a snag in this pact Just a few minutes ago I whiningly told Tom I can't think of anything to blog about, my mind is a blank, and then I proceeded to tell him some of what I'm writing, now. I'm writing it because he said, "that's what you need to blog about." Duh...Good thing I have a soulmate! I did get a few things accomplished between yesterday and today: I now have an updated and viable resume`. I've been talking about doing this for weeks now, maybe months. I knew I needed to do it but sometimes looking at the level of education I ALMOST have and looking at the myriad of jobs I've flown through...I get annoyed with myself, then depressed, and then apathy sets in that's hard to dispell. But last night, through a fog of exhaustion, I gritted my teeth and with Tom's help the resume` is now complete. This morning I applied to our local cable company online, which did feel sort of like offering my soul to the devil, heh heh, but they pay more than my current place of employment plus benefits. I know I'd be good at the job-customer service and troubleshooting-so the teeth-gritting commenced and I DID IT! I've been meaning to do it for days...heh heh. Yesterday I also e-mailed the woman who is editor of the local magazine Rochester Women, offering my writing skills to the publication. I got a lovely response today asking for a few clips of my work...and today I sent them! I am SMOKIN'! I even talked to Sarah's dance coach this evening about writing an article for either the local newspaper, the magazine, or both concerning high school dance teams in the area and what they're all about...I have more plans. Tom and I have talked to the managing editor of the Post-Bulletin and although we've yet to be offered paying gigs there, he did mention a need for book reviews that they would unfortunately not pay for, but hey-it's a foot in that all-important door. I'm going to leave my resume` and name at several temp services...who knows what can happen... I feel good right now. I'm not just wallowing in my situation, I'm doing something about getting up and out of my situation. Thanks to all of you who sent messages of support and understanding. Friends like you are invaluable, no question. And Tom...wow, what can I say about someone who lifts me up and keeps me going...  There are no words. I am truly and so very, very blessed. |
| Everybody wants an easy ride On the merry-go-round that we call life Take your drive on cruise control Then you wait to find out it's a winding road I had my dreams in view When the money ran out and the engine blew Hung my tears out to dry Then my dreams fell out of that clear blue sky And I, I was walkin' the clouds Feelin' so safe and sound Then somethin' else knocks me down Well, Oh, That's the way it is You gotta roll with the punches That's the way it goes You gotta bend when the wind blows You live you learn You crash and burn It's hit or miss And that's the way it is... I've probably posted these lyrics before. I've rolled with a lot of punches before, so what makes this time any different? Right?? I've been dealing with some depression, lately. I've tried to smile through it, "be tough" and "roll with the punches," but for some reason it's been hard. I didn't know why it was so hard to be upbeat lately and I've felt like a cheater, almost. I haven't been honest with myself or anyone else about what I'm truly going through inside my head and heart. Not mostly, anyway. I'm struggling, it's true. I'm struggling financially. The girls' dad lost his army job and as a result I lost army compensation for myself and Rachael and Sarah. In the space of a day, when I wasn't even aware it was happening, I lost over 1600 dollars a month. The job I have...it's not enough by any means to compensate for such a loss. It's not even close. When I first moved here to Rochester it was with stars in my eyes. I have found the love of my life, the person I was meant to be with and he has found me too, so why wouldn't I be floating on a wave of glitter?? I had, in my head, the misty idea of what life should and would be like for myself and Tom and the girls. It was going to be perfect, just like the storybook love Tom and I have for each other. I'd see to that. Then the rug was not just pulled out from under me...it was yanked and I fell on my keister with a resounding and bruising thud. I think I've still been rubbing my butt and feeling quite sorry for myself...that picture of perfection I had all wrapped up in pretty paper did not become reality. At first I thought I could make it through this. I cried for awhile when I had to tell Tom the truth of what had happened, that my income contribution for our life together was being sliced more than in half. He works hard and makes a decent wage, it's true, but as in all things these days it's not as much as it used to be. And of course he came into our relationship with burdens on his own income already. What adult living in the US doesn't have a bill or two to pay ...and we'd had dreams of building a nest egg, getting a house, travelling, making a living from our writing when it became lucrative, building up savings so we could do that...it all seemed so precarious and much more distant than it should have been.I tried to "keep the faith." I tried to "buck up" and continue on and balance under the burden of bills coming in, expecting to be paid with an income that couldn't withstand the burden of it all. I had to pay my portion of the rent late, call utility companies and explain the situation, pull back on the amount of groceries I can provide...of course Tom has taken up a grand amount; he took Sarah shopping one weekend last month because I simply couldn't afford to. He replenished her wardrobe and saved her from sure doom in the halls of John Marshall High School. He's been such a trooper through it, so sweet when he can tell I'm worried and feeling downtrodden. I can't help how I feel, sometimes. I have to call the ex and argue about the money situation and that makes me want to poke my eyeballs out. Yes, I've gotten the state involved and he will soon have to answer to THEM instead of me, thank God, but until then it's a battle to get anything out of him. It's a battle I could do without, one that always leaves me feeling a little dirtier than when I began a conversation with him. I have to get mean, you see, and that's not who I want to be. That's never been who I want to be. He gets me to a place inside myself that I'm not proud of, both because we don't communicate well at all and because the only way he "hears" me is if I am flat-out mean. I hate it and I get depressed after these necessary but awful altercations. And the guilt of it all--Tom gets upset because I feel so guilty for being unable to pull out of this situation. I understand that HE understands...he knows that where I am is not where I planned to be, that where I am financially is something I didn't have a lot of control over, that beating myself up about it doesn't solve a darn thing. He knows that, I know that. But it doesn't stop the occasional flow. I can't help feeling, sometimes, that I've let myself and my girls down. I know that's not true, at least not for the long term because I WILL get out of this heinous situation I'm in right now, but sometimes I can't help the wallowing. I try not to let anyone else see it because it's not a good place to be...down in the depths of where my guilt eats at me and I think about all the choices I could have made in the past-distant and not-so-distant-that would have me in a better place right now. And that's why I've had a hard time blogging, these days. I'm always honest in this blog and I always want to be. Writing about my feelings for Thomas is easy because they're real and they're honest. The rest of my life, though, feels like it's in shambles. I hate that. I hate feeling like a burden to the people I love. So you see, life is never perfect. It tends to throw curves at us regularly, and this is my curve to dodge. This is my battle to WIN. I'm done wallowing, by the way, for several reasons. It has helped to let it out in a blog entry, the way I've done with my burdens since this blog began so long, long ago. And last night Thomas and I read out of The Secret, the part about knowing what you want, believing that you will recieve what you want, and being ready TO recieve it. That last part is what I have to work on. I have to be ready and open to the solvents already in front of me. I have to be willing to let things move along in a pattern I may not have envisioned, but that's okay. Perfection isn't my goal, anymore. A release of stress and some enjoyment of life IS. And this morning I went to church. This is what the pastor had to say: "Do you believe that God wants to demonstrate Himself powerfully in your life? What does God have power over that youve chosen to face alone?" Oops. He also said, "When we are cornered in life we go to God. His power is limitless." How could I have forgotten what others have told me I have a gift for?!Faith. Unwavering, unyielding, undying faith. I forgot. |
| Sometimes special days for things-holidays-are just too stressful, I think. So much meaning and so many expectations for one single day. Take Valentine's Day for example: We love who we love. We should show it every day of our lives, not just one ONE day a year! So Valentine's Day...what's with that?? I have always resented the pressure of Valentine's Day. There have been years when, if I could crawl into a hole for this day and crawl back out when it's over...I would have done that. Then there's this year. This year is a little different. I still feel the pressure of Valentine's Day and I still feel a little resentment about it, particularly since I don't have enough in the way of financial means to do what I wish I could for those I love. Then again, this morning I woke up next to someone I want to wake up next to for the rest of my life. I've never felt, in all my years, the way I feel about Thomas . I've fancied myself to be "in love" before, I mean I am what is kindly termed "middle aged", and who can make it to that particular spot in the road without having been swept away on the tides of romance and passion? Well, romance anyway The first time I remember feeling that boy-girl flutter in my heart I was pretty young, about six. I was in kindergarten and Chad held my hand while we ran during recess. I liked the flutter...I was hooked. When I was in the first grade a boy named Patrick, blonde with blue eyes and light freckles dusting his cheeks, grabbed my hand one day while we were at the reading table. Our hands would get sweaty and slick under that table and if felt somehow sneaky but decadent, like the richest kind of candy your mother tells you not to eat...and my heart would flutter out of my chest, it felt like, everytime he grabbed my hand like that. My future with "the boy factor" involved was sealed. Every year I had a crush, a boy I would focus on because he would somehow make my heart flutter more than any other...for that year, anyway. I wasn't too fickle, but I sure did like the boys. I couldn't understand those "girly girls" who would turn up their noses at boys and talk about how "gross" they were. HUH? I would think incredulously. Boys were, to me, very NOT gross. I liked playing with boys on the playground and always pouted when I felt like my older brother got better toys than me-cool hot wheels and science experiment kits...I wanted that stuff!As I grew I still "crushed" on plenty of boys, but my first real boyfriend didn't come along until I was almost 15. The first time I kissed him I didn't think much of it...but like I write in the story, the kissing thing grew on me. He was around for about a year and a half. Gradually I knew, as our relationship progressed, that as much as I loved Gary, I wasn't IN love with him...there's a difference and even then I knew it. I would love Gary all my life, but not with the kind of love I should if we were to continue with our relationship and marry and all that HE seemed to want...I wanted more. I wanted to experience my life's journey outside of the shelter of my hometown, outside the "safety" of smalltown life. I wanted to experience everything life had to offer. I knew that wouldn't happen if I settled for what I already knew and saw..So I broke Gary's heart, something I've never been happy about doing to this day. I know my breaking up with him was the best thing for both of us, and today he's married to a great woman, living as an attorney in San Diego, California with two very attractive kids...but I still cringe to remember the night I told him we were not meant to be. Other relationships came along, of course, some which meant "love" for me and some which didn't. I got my heart broken as much as I broke other hearts. After a difficult marriage where I had to admit to myself that my choice of a marriage partner wasn't the good one for me, I seriously began to think the "love" thing just wasn't for me. I still believed that love existed, that there were people out there who found each other and matched up with each other and committed to each other and were truly soulmates...I just didn't believe it would happen for me. I didn't think that sort of life was in the cards for me. And like I've written before, I was okay with that. Until Thomas . He was my friend, my GOOD friend, one of my best friends. I counted him among the top three, right up there with Iowegian Skye and my other friend Leah. We would IM for hours at night and call each other occasionally...I never ever had a boring conversation with him. He made me laugh, he made me cry, he took my breath away with his writing talent, he drove me crazy when he would go "silent" on me sometimes. I thought about him at least several times during the day, every day from the time I "met" him back in June of 2005. I told myself over and over again that he was "just a friend." I would push back those misty little pictures that would rise up unbidden after we would talk, deep in the night, the ones where we would meet and so would our lips...YIKES I would think, appalled at myself. He's a FRIEND, a FRIEND! Uh huh. The more I knew him the more I loved him. I didn't admit to myself or anyone else about the "in love" thing. I adamantly and stubbornly believed that just wasn't in the cards for me. But then one day he expressed interest, and my eyes grew wide, and my heart fluttered in a way it had never fluttered in all my life, with all the other boys and men and flutters before. And that passion thing? Yeah, like never before... Eight months later it still flutters. Actually it sings, it dances, and it soars on the wings of my great, abiding, and neverending love for Thomas My heart's twin, my soulmate. The man I was meant to love.Never say never. |
| Thomas had a great idea, yesterday. We weren't able to attend a poetry class held by one of our friends, much to our disappointment, so instead we created an assignment for each other, something to get us up and interested and back into the writing arena...we gave each other a blog topic, something-or someone-we would have to research and then write about in this here blog. Thomas chose to assign me with the task of researching and writing about Audrey Hepburn, the wonderfully famous actress and philanthropist who died in 1993 at the age of 63. This could have been an easy assignment for me. My family, back in Guymon, Oklahoma, was in the film business. They owned and ran a movie theater-two for a while-and actually had several other movie theaters in different parts of the Southwest. I was raised with the names of old film stars gracing our dinner table the way "Aunt Ruth" or "Uncle Harold" graced the tables of other families. Even though my parents divorced when I was barely a year old, it was still a great family joke that my father would roll his eyes and call them "Cousin Debbie" and "Cousin Cary." That's how much he heard about them! But I thought I'd go a different route with this one...Everybody has a story. I like to say that and it's so very true; nothing inspires me to write more than hearing the tales of a seemingly "average" person who appears to be nothing more than a teacher, a waitress, a mainanence man. But everyone is more-or less-then what they seem to be. None of us can be aware of what really lurks below the surface unless we ask...or in the case of Audrey Hepburn, do some research! She was born in Belgium, Germany to an Englishman and his second wife. What happened to the first wife is fuzzy and not often a topic family members like to delve into very much. Hmm...Her mother, the second wife, was a former Barroness, a Dutch aristocrat. Audrey's mother spent her childhood in a manor house where eventually the exiled German Chancellor, Willhelm II, spent his own last days. Her father's last name was Rustin, but for probably reasons of wanting to flaunt his bluer-than-blue blood, he had himself and his family adopt the name Hepburn-Ruston, adding his maternal grandmother's surname to his own. In this way his own and his children's lineage could clearly be traced back to an Earl and even to Prince Ranier of Monaco. Her father, however, was an insurance agent of no particular royalty-without even a title. In 1935, Audrey's mother and father divorced. Her father became a Nazi sympathizer who left the family abruptly and never returned. Audrey once said his abandonment of her and a younger brother was the most traumatic event of her life. Both her parents became followers of Adolph Hitler. In 1939 Audrey's mother moved herself and her children to the Netherlands, thinking the Germans wouldn't invade, there. They were invaded in 1940 and for a short time, while she was in a conservatory studying ballet, Audrey changed her name to make it sound less English so it would be less dangerous. She changed it back after the war. During German occupation, Audrey secretly danced ballet to raise funds for the Dutch Resistance movement. Those who paid to see her dance weren't allowed to make a single sound after performances for obvious reasons. The Netherlands became a place of hardship and starvation during the war; pandemonium reined, and at one point Audrey stood and watched her uncle and cousin be shot by occupying Nazis for being part of the Dutch Resistance. During this time Hepburn's younger brother was captured and sent to a labor camp where he nearly starved to death. Hepburn herself was on the verge of starvation and suffered the effects of severe malnutrition. When the country was finally liberated and United Nations trucks trundled in dispensing food and clothing in the streets, Hepburn recalled drinking an entire can of condensed milk and getting promptly sick. Because of Audrey's health problems resulting from near-starvation during the war, she was unable to become the prima ballerina she'd envisioned for herself. She had to find a different route for her life. She turned to acting simply as a means to make a living; at the time her mother was working menial jobs to support the family and acting in the Netherlands paid a bit more...but only a bit. Thankfully, the film industry seemed to appreciate her look and she found that she had a talent and an enjoyment for acting...she played in London and studied there, as well, before the United States came calling and provided her first major role playing Gigi on the Broadway stage...the rest, as they say, is history... It stands to reason that following Hepburn's monumentally successful film career, she turned to philanthropic pursuits in large part as a result of her early life. She felt for the Germans she saw being led away on trains, remembered watching the gaunt faces of German children and feeling her heart squeeze in response. She became, in her later years, a great advocate and spokeswoman for UNICEF, the children's charity aimed at feeding and clothing poor children around the world. She also, later in life, tracked down her father in Europe, and though he remained emotionally distant to her, she supported him financially for the rest of his life. She was active in animal rights as well as human rights. She was married twice and divorced twice, and had one son by each marriage. At the end of her life she was living with a fellow actor, although not as famous an actor as herself. They both, however, kept themselves busy with humanitarian pursuits, and after her death from colearectal cancer, she was awarded the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award by the Acadamy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences. Audrey Hepburn was so much more than a wispy, elegant film actress with a pedigree. She had a story. A big one. |
| Did you think you'd lost me? Did you think I was lost?? Did you think...well no matter...I am HERE! For the last two weeks I've been a "little" absent from this site and blog. So here's the scoop: I work at a front desk in the day, at a lovely hotel where I was once given the opportunity to peruse the internet when I wasn't otherwise engaged in hotel work...that day has passed, unfortunately. I work at the same hotel, but the evil corporate honchos who run the place *picture dark mustaches they twirl while snickering in malicious glee* passed down a decree that those of us at the front desk are no longer allowed to freely access internet while we work. Neither are we supposed to read any materials not directly related to hotel work or eat or drink at the front desk. Since I am not afforded breaks during my solitary day at the front desk, such a decree from annoyingly ridiculous corporate honchos could prove to be a catalyst to my loud and long complaints about these horrendous "rules" at my place of employment...but there are always ways around archaic and small minded people. That's all I'm gonna say *wiggling eyebrows with a smirk* And yes, I'm actively job searching! Shocking I know There are saving graces about my job. The general manager is a really good woman whose issues with the corporate honchos are long and loud. She does her best with them, but the bottom line is that she is as much their employee as the rest of us. She does what she can; she's the first "boss" I've ever had that I know I'd call "friend" if I met her elsewhere, but that's another blog entry. Another saving grace is my friend Nicole. She's the head housekeeper for the hotel and we complain to each other, laugh at our grand sarcastic wit, print out songs about fellow employees *only the ones who deserve it* and generally keep each other up and on track throughout the day. I wouldn't be nearly as "okay" at the end of the day if Nicole wasn't around. We lament when one of us has a day off and the other is left to the mercy of the unwitty I enjoy most of the guests of the hotel, too. So many of them are Mayo Clinic patients or their relatives who are battling illness or watching someone they love battle...last week I checked in a couple who have a week-old infant in Mayo. He has a kind of food poisoning that was passed from his mother's system to his. She was fine after a few days of eating tainted meat, actually thought she'd been a victim of some simple stomach virus...until her infant son was born with this pathogen in his body. He has to stay in the hospital until at least mid February. The parents were harried and exhausted. If I can make their days even a little easier and better, then I'm glad I'm where I am. After a work day where I begin at 7am and end at 3pm, I often have errands to run, a girl or two that needs to be picked up, dropped off...Sarah is very active on the John Marshall High School dance team, The Rockettes. Thomas and I, after a full day at work, are often relegated to dropping off and picking up for dance practices. There are times when Rachael needs a ride to or from her place of employment, as well. We're so very lucky all this driving happens within no more than a twenty-minutes-away-radius There is laundry and grocery shopping and Saturday Dance Competitions and shopping for the growing girl and repairing weather-torn cars and finding time for Thomas' mom *whom I love*, his brother and dad *whom I also love*...then there are writing groups with monthly meetings I LOVE attending with Thomas and Saturday writing classes I adore and my own broken down laptop and so much much more...something has inevitably suffered. I haven't been as "present" here as I like to be. I miss you all, believe me. I'm going to get better at juggling it all too, you'll see! Thomas has been phenomenal, by the way. His life has gone from mostly sane to mostly INsane!! We've had the best times together...even doing laundry with him can become SO MUCH FUN!! He sits in the stands at Sarah's dance competitions and tapes her while she performs, beaming as much-if not more-than me. His mother is often there too, providing Sarah with a grandparent-type person at her events for the first time ever. *My own mother would so enjoy all the girls' events but we've always lived too far away for her to attend* Our lives haven't been all sunshine and roses since we've been together. We've had rain, sometimes torrents of it. But you know the cool thing? The ENORMOUSLY cool thing?? We love each other immensely and we both love the girls-even when they're bratty-that I have brought along as part of the package deal Thomas received when he hitched his wagon to mine. The sailing of our family ship isn't always smooth, but in the end...I've never known so completely just how worth it the rough patches are. I've never known so concretely that where I am in life is exactly where I'm meant to be. I've never been so sure that I have a full fledged partner by my side, standing with me no matter WHAT curves and crazy situations I end up enmeshing him...uh huh, sometimes I think I might be his Lucy Ricardo So that's where I've been all this time...and oh yeah, a couple of days ago my membership expired! I couldn't really afford to get it upgraded and I hadn't informed my life partner of the issue...then an angel gave me a month-come forward angel! And my life partner gave me a year of membership! I am busy, but I am so truly blessed. |
| I know some of those who read my blog don't follow the amazing game of football, but bear with me while I mention the game and write about someone I consider to be worthy of more than "football talk": Kurt Warner is, today, the starting quarterback of the Arizona Cardinals. Being in his late thirties, he's an older player who many opined had "had his day".,.it wasn't a long day in professional football before the Cardinals. He hails from Cedar Falls, Iowa, a community which is approximately an hour and a half or so from the Quad Cities where I lived for more than a few years. Kurt attended college at the University of Northern Iowa on a football scholarship, but for some reason he didn't perform quite up to the standards people thought he would. In 1994, after a stint with the Green Bay Packers training camp, he was cut and was relegated to playing "Arena Football," the spring indoor football that doesn't enjoy nearly the popularity of NFL football. It's almost a different game, but "football" enough to count as a minor league sort of entrance or exit from the professional game. Many hardcore fans and players, however, consider Arena Football to be more than a step down from professional football. They consider it a leap. Kurt was just happy to be earning a few bucks playing the game he loved. During the off season-most of the year-he worked stocking the shelves of a local HyVee grocery store. He did what he had to do for the sake of making a living, but he never ceased to play the game he loved so much or work nonstop to become better at it, hang onto his dreams... He accrued enough accolades during his time with the Iowa Barnstormers to grab the attention of NFL scouts. He was signed to the St Louis Rams in 1998 as a backup quarterback. Kurt Warner's big chance came when the Rams' starting quarterback was injured during the 1999 preseason. He took that chance...and the rest is Football History. He became one of the top performing quarterbacks in the NFL; by the end of the season he was named Sports Illustrated's NFL Most Valuable Player, just months after the first time they showcased him with a top story called, "Who IS This Guy?" By 2001, Kurt Warner led the St Louis Rams to their first Super Bowl and their first Super Bowl win! Their second Super Bowl appearance happened the very next year. They barely lost that one.Kurt Warner caught my attention first because I follow football, second because I lived in St Louis during his meteroic rise to fame, and third because there's something about him that just...sparkles. He has an intent, a force, a certain joy on his face when he plays the game he loves so much...while still making it known quite publicly that his family-a wife named Brenda who had two children of her own, one extremely handicapped, that he adopted when they married, along with two others they've had together-come first. He's more than a strong football player. He's a strong person. He's an admirable leader who doesn't back down even when adversity raises its fist to him... He came under fire after that second Super Bowl appearance. He wasn't getting along well with the coaching staff in St Louis, and neither was his wife. They were, in ways, expecting Kurt to compromise his principles, and despite the millions of dollars the St Louis Rams threw at him, he didn't back down. He stood his ground and maintained that his principles mattered every bit as much as the game...for this stance he was, a couple of years later, fired. Yet he didn't quit, he didn't stop chasing the dream. He experienced some tough years with a football team or two that wasn't much of a fit, until he landed in Phoenix, Arizona and the Cardinals-who used to reside in St Louis, by the way. The Cardinals are a beleagured team who don't have much in their history that speaks well for them...almost no titles or playoff berths, certainly no Super Bowl appearances! Along comes Kurt Warner, a man who refuses to bend himself to the will of someone else when he knows he shouldn't, someone who has ceaselessly followed his joy and his bliss-just like that book "The Secret" suggests. He didn't let anyone else be his voice. He didn't let anyone else's negative opinion or voice change who he is or what he stands for. The Arizona Cardinals are going to the Super Bowl. |
| Things are okay. I want to send out a HUGE THANK YOU to those of you who commented and also sent e-mails of support and concern about Liz. Whatever happens with her...I've been all I knew how to be to her and now it's up to HER. I've given her the tools-as many as I had to give-so that she can become the person she was meant to be, but her story is her own. She has to write it however it's going to play out. I can love her through it like any mother should, but I can't and I won't write it. I have enough to do in writing my own She's a part of mine but not the whole of it, and it's time I released her and moved forward. I have. One down, two to go!A couple of years ago I wrote about a craze sweeping especially the "Oprah" types who love to latch onto the latest craze for "fixing your life." I wrote that I didn't know "The Secret" was such a secret! The book and the movie and the dvd and all the sundry other objects surrounding "The Secret" are all about how to make Positive Thinking work for you...how to apply the "Laws of Attraction" to your everyday life. I never did dismiss such notions because I know firsthand how they work. I've often considered myself to be "lucky" because so often, sometimes at the last minute, I seem to get or find exactly what I need to keep on going. Sometimes I get what I need to be better off than I thought I'd be! Like I said, I considered myself "lucky." But recently, after financial hardship hit with a vengeance and I started to lose steam with the Liz situation, I began to forget about The Secret I'd applied to my life-off/and/on-all my life. THINK POSITIVE, relentlessly. Assume that whatever you want and need in life will happen for you if you believe in it strongly enough. Sound hoaky? Maybe, but take a look at the people who believe in it wholeheartedly and even teach it...Oprah Winfrey the zillionaire, Jack Canfield the zillionaire, Bob Proctor the zillionaire...are you getting a picture, here??? Like I mentioned, I have applied this notion of positive thinking and being aware that what I want is within my grasp if I only ask for it, work towards it, and keep looking up...but sometimes I forget. Yup, I get beaten and downtrodden and I forget to look UP, to have knowledge that what I GIVE is what I GET...a fundemental rule of "The Secret" is to never stop being grateful for every single gift in your life, to never stop giving, because that's it, that's the key. Positive thought evokes positive vibes evokes positive giving evokes positive GETTING...try it! I'm telling you from experience that it works From getting a really cool parking space this weekend to just now receiving an e-mail asking me to judge speech tournaments for pay-not a lot but every bit helps-to finding my soulmate under my nose *Thomas *...I'm telling you...IT WORKS!!!So yup, Liz WILL eventually get it and so will I...oh yeah, I already have! |
| She's at it again. Liz pulled all kinds of rotten behavior where she's at and got herself kicked out of treatment. As of three o'clock this afternoon she's no longer a resident of the facility. She's not going to be HERE, either. So where is she going to be? Good question! She freaked out so completely at the facility this morning that they called the police, who escorted her to St. Mary's ER. She's now languishing there. I am not When Liz called me screaming I wouldn't let her talk until she was rational. I hung up on her. She called again and told me about her dire circumstances. I'd already made it clear, several times, that I wasn't going to bail her out of this one. She was repeatedly acting badly, being unforgivably rude to the people who worked in the facility, refusing to attend mandatory group sessions...despite everyone's warnings, she just kept on going. Now she's essentially homeless. An argument could be made-one I've launched myself-that she's not on the correct medication for her problems, and she's not. Still...how much can be attributed to something out of Liz's control? That's always the conundrum, but Rachael was right, too. She has repeatedly reminded me that even when Liz was on meds that curbed her outlandish behavior, she'd purposely do things to negate its effectiveness, knowing all the time exactly what she was doing...one might ask Liz, in a Dr. Phil voice: How's the workin' for ya? Like Thomas said, it must be working for her on some level or she wouldn't be doing it. Dr. Phil says the same thing!But still...this is a person who could be doing anything, anything at all. She has musical talent, unbelievable intelligence, so much going for her...if she worked a fraction as hard to get herself moving in life as she does at NOT moving forward...she'd be famous by now That's the thing, though. It has to be HER choice, all hers. Every life event has to be on her-she has to own it. For that to happen, I have to remove myself from the equation.Nothing with Liz, in the twenty-one years she's been alive, has ever been easy, not even her birth. She has to do everything the hardest way possible. Okay, that's her choice. But I don't have to be part of the fallout. I really don't. There comes a time in life when you have to take a hard look at what's going on-or not going on-and ask yourself how to fix it. I did that for myself this morning. I'm fulfilling the only part of this bargain I feel in my gut I should. Tomorrow afternoon I'm buying her a bus ticket to Illinois, where her dad lives and she has friends. That will be my last act to do anything for her. Period. I've done what I can-most likely far too much-as her mother. I've provided her with as much as I can, both materially and with advice for living her life. What she does from here...is on her. Completely. |
| Today I went to the mall with Sarah and bought her some nice new jeans from one of the "name brand" stores...on clearance, of course! We had a great time, just her and I. I used to try spending "one on one" time with each girl once in a while, usually once a month or so. Since they've grown, we've moved, and our lives have become more full and busy, I haven't had the chance with especially Sarah. I've felt her become more distant. Part of it is the "teenage girl syndrome" I've been through a couple of times already-Thomas is getting his first taste of it, poor man! As fourteen-year-old girls go she's not too bad. She doesn't slam doors as a habit or use unacceptable language or even raise her voice that much. With Sarah it's all in the expressions, the posture, the ATTITUDE...she's perfected that in spades! Anyone who's been on the receiving end of a young teenage girl knows what I mean...the sighs, the eye rolls, the derisive, small, barely-heard-but-volumes-meant snort...you know, that. So I thought it was time for us to be "buddies and pals" as we used to call those times out. Sarah used to love them...I discovered she still does. Today there were no eye rolls, no sighs, no crossed arms speaking volumes about my total lack of ability to understand much, ha ha! Nope, today we talked. She likes a boy named Brian (I can name him because he doesn't read my blog) who is in the band-plays the trombone-and seems very nice. He's tall and gangly, the way they all are at fourteen-going-on-fifteen, with straw blonde hair and a shy smile. Sarah is pretty shy herself when it comes to boys...We talked about how hard she works in dance and how she never thought she could do so much, but she is and feels proud of herself for making the varsity high kick team. The coach has asked her to dance with both the varsity AND JV high kick teams as well as the JV jazz team. She'll be busy and exhausted, but she and I both think she's up to it...she's shining on the John Marshall High School Dance Team while she's still keeping her grades up-3.5 *mom brag moment*. We talked about how she doesn't need to diet, a subject I've been concerned about because she's certainly active enough AND thin enough; I want to make sure she's getting the nutrition and caloric intake she needs without making a "huge deal" out of it. Much like when they're children, the more spotlighted an issue is by a parental figure, the more of an issue it becomes. So it's one of those "tread lightly" situations...after talking about it though, I know her head is on straight and I feel much better. We talked about books and her friends and her sisters and her dad and-yes-Thomas. She thinks he's "pretty cool." She has her "moments" when Thomas is on the receiving end of her teenage "attitude," and of course because of his "stepfather" roll in her life there's probably even more of it... Thomas and I have talked about how he and each of the girls will have to forge their own individual relationships. Because I love them all so much I of course want them to see the value of each other and love each other like I do, but human connections take time. Bonds have to be slowly woven over days, weeks, months, years...after spending an afternoon in Sarah's company, I was able to see, hear, and feel the threads of that weaving-the formation of an expanding family tapestry. It's not a perfect picture, of course. There are and will be snags and bulges in some places and a few missing stitches along the way, but in a bigger-picture kind of way...it's mighty nice. |
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