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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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| I've lived in Rochester, MN for almost two months now. I've written about it before, but I'm further intrigued by my new surroundings: Craggy cliffs dot the landscape around Rochester, even bordering a popular restaurant-when Tom drove me to that place and parked, my eyes widened in appreciation of the scenery in a parking lot, no less! When I mentioned how unusual and beautiful the landscape next to a parking lot was, he replied about how easy it is to forget what it is you're looking at when you see it every day. So true. The people of Rochester...I like them. I work with mostly personable, easy-going types who are easy to enjoy; I think they are very accepting of differences and disabilities because in this city, we see such things every day. The majority of guests in our hotel come from the Mayo Clinic. It's so easy to see on their faces, when they return in the afternoons/evenings, what sort of prognosis they've recieved, how the treatment for what ails them has sapped their strength...but often not their spirits. I've met people from Arizona, Texas, California, Alaska, Canada...they are all here to visit the famed Mayo Clinic. I told Thomas I sometimes feel like a bartender as I stand and listen sympathetically and nod understandingly, and more than occasionally, when I watch our guests depart and return with long, tired expressions and anxiety etched in their faces, my heart squeezes and calls out its own sorrow for them. But I smile and I try to be as accomodating as possible and I really hope I can be a bright spot in their otherwise stress-filled days. I've never dealt with grave illness in my own family. We are all digustingly healthy, never having a death or even a scare from cancer. Our only big health concern has been high blood pressure, and that's on both sides of my family tree-and, of course, mental health issues abound  . Every day I feel almost embarrassed by the good fortune of my genetics when I talk to these people who have so much illness in so many branches of their own trees. I am truly so very blessed, something I need to remember when I start to sink into some mire of self pity--which we all do on occasion; it's a human condition.Coming out of a grocery store two days ago, I observed an elderly woman in a wheelchair-certainly not an unusual sight in these parts-being led into a transport van by the driver. It was a taxi of sorts for those who are disabled. No one else was with this woman who seemed rather weak, actually. She had a motorized chair and gnarled fingers which were able to push the lever for moving her chair, but she probably couldn't do much more. The driver was pleasant and courteous while they bantered as he manuevered her into the vehicle. Those exiting the store around me didn't blink twice, so common is such a scene in these parts. What struck me was, first, the independence of the woman. She was obviously alone in her shopping expedition, but with the help she received from the store and the driver of her taxi, she had no worries, and she trusted these people to help her as much as was needed. It just IS in this town, no questions and no shirking when it comes to helping. At the hotel we have a number of disabled young adults who, accompanied by their caregivers, arrive at our establishment every weekday morning and spend their time stripping beds in rooms and making them up again. They do an excellent job, sometimes a better one than those we pay. They're great people and I feel richer for knowing them.  Again, no one who works here thinks twice about being friendly and "normal" with our mentally challenged coworkers. It just IS. So Rochester, MN...I belong here. I feel it in my healthy bones.  |
| Robert Waltz is hereby not allowed to gift me in any way, shape, or form for anything I might say or expound upon in this here blog entry Good ol' Robert Waltz  has been experiencing some "downturns" in the mood department as of late and his latest blog entry has included the entreaty for those of us who visit his neck o' the woods to write a "Waltz is Great" blog entry...WELL. I think it's an inspired idea myself, although I refuse to accept gifts or payment for giving someone I consider a very cool friend accolades he deserves every day anyway!This is Robert: ascerbic, dry, witty, punny, blunt, fun-loving (to a point), extraordinarily talented in the writing department, capable of many groan-worthy jokes, very intelligent, willing to share all the weird/insane/inane tidbits he finds as he peruses the cyber highway, enjoyable... The man has been known to write a blog entry capable of making me bark out loud in laughter-not dog barking-*tribute to puns*. He has also been known to make my mouth drop open in shock/writer-respect/awe with his writing, most specifically his short stories. He is not your ordinary run-of-the-mill short story writer, and I might not otherwise read the kinds of stories he's written that I've read in the past, but their quality is unquestionable, his talent is immeasurable. He lives in the East and is probably someone I wouldn't know if it weren't for WDC; he doesn't own kids-ha ha-and he doesn't have a job anywhere close to the one I have. He lives in an area of the country I've never even seen-not in person, anyway. But there's something about Robert Waltz that makes him worth knowing. Big-Time. Thomas wrote a majorly cool tribute in poetic form: "Invalid Entry"  Check it out! |
| You make the most progress now not by striving to get ahead in your career, but by integrating your spiritual beliefs into your everyday life. You may have to step down from a lifestyle that has grown less and less attractive, but you'll be happier in the long run if you are doing work that is consistent with your soul's purpose. Do you allow yourself to get so bogged into everyday routines that you forget to-well-feed your soul? Those of us who write...or paint, or act, or employ any kind of creative need...we are driven by a need to feed ourselves in a spiritual sense. To cease allowing our creativity to breathe is to, in essence, kill ourselves, because without our spirits, the piece of us that feels incredible joy and intense pain, what are we? Empty vessles that stumble along with our daily jobs and daily "grind" without much else to let us know we matter. As writers-creative types-we have this drive to matter. The first paragraph was my daily hororscope...it's downright creepy when I recieve an admonition like this at just the right time. I was disgruntled at work, today, starting out: frustrated by one of the managers, annoyed at the night coworker who felt the need to call my house because I was five minutes late (hey, did I plan on getting stuck behind two people who don't know what it means to PULL OVER when you bump fenders?!) and sooo irritated at housekeepers who are bickering like children Then this horoscope advice for today. My life isn't supposed to be about what I'm experiencing at the job I keep to earn money. It's about what I create and carving out the time I need to create it. RIIIGHT *finger snap* Revelations, however we get them, are a Godsend. Literally. I'm calm now, I'm allowing bickering coworkers to wash right over me...and I'm smiling. Why? Because I'm feeding my soul. |
| I have a fictional short story by the same name, but this particular entry isn't about that...it's about Rachael, my middle daughter who happens to be nineteen years old. Sometimes I think being at this "threshold of adulthood" is harder than middle school, even. She's in that place where she's not quite and adult and certainly is no longer a child. It's that 18-21 chasm we all encounter on our life journey. How we manuever it has everything to do with where we go from there. Remember?? Rachael is definately feeling the pangs. She's still wavering about where she wants to go and what she wants to do, but that's okay I keep telling her. Part of being nineteen means not being very sure. Even the ones her age who ARE sure...nine out of ten will change their minds and paths before too long. It's a crossroads and we all have to go through it. She's so helpful at home, around the house. She drives to perform errands or takes her siblings wherever they need to go. She likes Thomas but is shy--I love watching her come out of her shell to engage him with her personality and dry humor. They're alot alike... This semester she's decided to bow out of the college scene and focus on getting a job. That's all well and good, but she also has a hard time getting STARTED and I was becoming frustrated with her seeming stagnation. She has been angst-ridden and worried about everything under the sun, always second guessing herself and wondering "where she goes from here." I keep telling her to quit "sweating the small stuff," it'll come to her. She had a job interview at Target last Thursday, and at first she was optimistic about how it went; as the evening wore on she started to remember what might NOT have gone well. I have a hard timre relating to this part of her because it's so not me. I'm not a worrier and I don't obssess over what could possibly go wrong. She does. She's always been that way, and "nineteen" seems to enhance the condition. She'll be okay. She's a smart girl with a bright future. For the spring semester she will most likely attend the local community college here--we were having a hard time getting her transcripts from her last college this semester and it got too late...she would have had to enroll late and opted to simply wait... But I wish she'd stop worrying so much.  |
| Tonight I was childless. Okay, teenagerless. The girls went back to the Quads to see their friends so poor Tom and I had to make do all alone...with the noted exception of the furry children I love Thomas. Does everyone who reads my blog know that? I make it SUUCH a secret!! Anywho, I love going out with him, being a part of the world I used to read about, and puffing up like a blowfish with so much pride when I see how the people in his life respect and like him I don't believe he is aware of his appeal and his impact on others; it's part of his charm, though-He is one person I never fail to have a great time with, which is crazy and fun and wonderful all at once. It's easy to laugh at comics when you're with your soulmate  We went to a Comedy Club in Rochester tonight called "Goonies," where Thomas has been known to perform his own stand-up during open mike nights, and many people there know Tom well...the comic before the headliner-called the "feature"-was a friend of Tom's, Ted Vincent. It was so funny that after the show, when we were leaving, Ted and Tom shook hands and then Ted said he hoped I liked the show; I was always frowning when he looked over!  It never occurs to me that the performers would look at ME, but of course they would when I'm with, you know, Thomas Harper! Actually there were times when I was sort of frowning, but not from Ted's show which was actually great...I was frowning because I would be concentrating for a split second-or two-on something else and then have to snap myself back into "the moment." Oops, caught.  I love being with Thomas. Does anyone at all have a question about that?! Oh quit groaning and reaching for your toothbrushes~I promise I'll blog about something ELSE tomorrow. But for tonight I get to rhapsodize about the handsome man in my life-the smart, talented, funny guy I'm sitting beside. http://www.tedvincent.com/ |
| My BABY is in HIGH SCHOOL?! Today was Sarah's second day of school, actually her first REAL one. Yesterday they had "freshman orientation" and were able to play games and get to know one another as a result. She is starting high school in a completely different place than where she ended middle school, and she didn't even know, last May, that she wouldn't be attending the same place with her same friends in the same world she's known since she was seven years old. She's dealt with the upheaval admirably. She has kept in touch with all her friends from Moline. In fact, she and her sister, Rachael, are returning this next weekend to pick up sundry items from a storage facility we still have while at the same time visiting friends and having a "kicky" time! They're looking forward to it... At the same time, though, Rochester, MN has become home to them. It's amazing to me how well they've adapted...but maybe not. We were a nomadic family for many years; Liz attended NINE different schools during her public school career. Rachael attended seven. Sarah has been the lucky one in my brood of three, because she has, until now, only attended three different school districts, so her ties to Moline are strong. But there is an adventurer in my third daughter which echoes her mother's  Occasionally she has confessed to me that moving wasn't such a big deal to her as long as she could keep the friends she has and add new ones from a new community. She has been looking forward to the adventure of it while getting just a little nervous as time drew near...I told her it's quite normal to be nervous, even a little scared, when we're facing new experiences. It's okay to admit that, even vital to working through the negative emotions that could block more positive ones. She, once again, rallied to the moment and after her second day attending John Marshall High School in Rochester, MN and riding the bus for the FIRST day today, she had a smile on her face and seemed completely at ease with the turn of her fate. So now, instead of being a Moline Maroon, she is a John Marshall Rocket. What an awesome kid. |
| My relationship with...yes, here it comes...Thomas has SO jumpstarted me creatively it's insane! The reason is clear. He's amaziing. Okay yeah, he is, but some other reasons-that actually speak to his amazingness-have to do with his encouragement, some might use the word "pushing", to get me into contests and to give myself deadlines for writing. It WORKS! I knew it does but I'd slacked off on myself for the last year or so, not making myself do much of anything writing-wise. Well, Thomas Harper won't stand for that! He stands behind me and nudges me until I move, heh heh. He is good about signing us up for classes, getting me to take a poetry retreat weekend, things we do that seriously get the creative juices flowing, provide us with writing assignments and deadlines, and I SO NEED that for myself!! He has long been a part of the writing scene here in Southeastern Minnesota, and he's made it his goal to get me involved, as well. I've met some great people from all walks of life who love to write...it's indescribable, what it does for the writer's soul, to be surrounded by others who find the craft as important as YOU do! In case I haven't mentioned it, Thomas is also the President of the Southeastern Minnesota Poets' Association, and in this first year of his Presidency, he's been handed the daunting task of hosting the League of Minnesota Poets' annual convention This man has gone into it pretty much without a clue about what to expect, but it's coming together at an alarming speed-which is good since the convention is the third weekend of October-and my Thomas is the orchestrator of all of it; when I say he's amazing, I'm not just spouting an opinion...there is fact to back it up And now I must again plug away, both for him and myself. We have been creating like crazy, partially from being entered into Mood Indigo's fantastic "fiction challenge", and partially because of a poetry class I attended last week with, yes, Thomas. I am linking AND putting the words to a poem I wrote during a class activity here: An Author's Tale Here I am, the only leftie in the room... unusual already in the way I write and create what spills from my head- Here I am, the one who sits and writes and is opposite of everyone else I see with pen to paper. What does this mean, if anything? Do we look for meaning where there is none? Or perhaps the side used for writing what I think Has everything to do with who I am... When I was young, I was told I was very wrong to be a leftie. My mother Bristled and said with ice in her voice, "Let her be what she will be." And so it was that I was left alone to Be a leftie, to be different in a world where To be the same is strangely revered. But with that earliest lesson I was taught- Not only is it Good to be different, it is, In fact, the desired state of being. So many of us strive all our lives to Conform, bend to society's mode of doing And thinking and being, when conforming Is the least of what we should do for ourselves. "The Masses" do not know my heart, or yours. "The Masses" cannot tell me who I am. I am a woman prepared to write my own life story My own way. I want to be the author of my own tale, the one who Decides the fate of her protagonist. It is time for me To create the same sort of care for My primary character- Me.
And now, some stories:
The stories are worth some time I promise you. If you're looking for something to review, please take a minute or two for these. They won't let you down. |
It's been awhile since I took a bow to Scarlett  "list of five" idea I like so much, so I thought I'd give it a whirl...By curves I mean the twists and turns of life. I think we're all supposed to learn from navigating them, and here's my "take" on what I've picked up to carry with me along my journey: 1. It has become my mantra, something I spout to anyone who stands still long enough to both lament and then hear it..."don't sweat the small stuff, and it's ALL small stuff." Think about it. Something like a family member who won't pick up after himself/herself is incredibly annoying and can sometimes become problematic-I should know-but does it merit real and true angst?? Probably not. I've discovered, much like Ferris Bueller, that life is short. Too short to spend it obssessing over "the small stuff." I'd rather spend my time celebrating the GOOD stuff, small OR big! 2. Parenting is more simple than the "experts" try to make it look. Your child will potty when the time is right, read when he's ready, and basically be who he's meant to be whether you buy him every educational toy on the planet or not. Phases don't last, and almost everything your kids go through, almost every "behavior" you worry over and obssess about, is gone by the time you figure out what to DO about it! 3. Parenting a special-needs child is so much harder than it looks, and you can't always tell when a child IS special-needs. It's the old "don't judge until you've walked a mile in their shoes." In fact... 4. I've learned not to judge much at all. We absolutely, positively have NO idea what it's like to live the life someone else does, so there is no basis we have to judge how well or badly they're doing "it," whatever "it" happens to be. I've been on the side of feeling totally misunderstood and it's not a good place. I don't want to put others there. 5. Real love does exist and it's SO much better than the books make it out to be, but here's the key: don't settle. Don't search for it because you won't find it. It will come to you when the time is right, when the person is right. You can't force it, you can't create it. When it is "meant to be" you'll know. You just will. *You didn't think I could go an entire blog entry without him coming up somewhere, did you?!* |
| Warning: the following blog entry is chock FULL of "sugar" and may cause a mouthful of cavities before the end of the entry; this warning is especially directed at miss Nada : Nothing is better, these days, than watching Thomas interact with my girls. He's a funny guy, you know, and the girls can relate to him on that level because we tend to be pretty funny, too. We throw out stupid puns and laugh at ourselves, use sarcastic humor to laugh at others, talk about our crazy/insane relatives, and generally have a good time...Thomas fits into this nonsensical atmosphere like he was just meant to be a part of us. He so IS. Thomas was nervous when he first met the girls in 3D; I've been writing about them since I started this blog and he began reading it, so in theory he knew them...but theory can be different. My girls had been hearing Thomas' name for the years I've known him. I don't believe in keeping them out of anything much, believing it's always best for them to be a part of what goes on in my world...to a point, of course. But Thomas was my friend, actually one of my BEST friends, so they knew of him and his humorous ways, his excellent writing skills, his intelligent mind...I'd shared as much with them about him as I had about THEM in this blog o' mine! So they have been brought together for real, now. What I find so enchanting is how the girls respect Thomas. They truly want this man to like them, be pleased with them. I've watched them "go the extra mile" when they know he's around and observant, and he never lets them down because he's so quick to praise them for whatever they accomplish in his presence. I watch them beam with pride, I see them look at me and wordlessly tell me they "get it" about him, why I love him. I see them begin to love him, too, and my heart fills. This blending of our family has its rocky moments, of course. Liz just has to "test the waters" with her mouth and disrespect towards me, which I had begun to let her get away with far too much too often-I just got so tired last year. Thomas was loud and firm with her about it...she tried the bravado and of course the rote response of every stepchild in the land, "you're not my father." He stood firm, however, and so did I, and since that one day for about a five minute span, she's been pleasant for the most part and trying really hard to be likable and helpful. My mouth drops open in shock Thomas has worked a miracle, there!He's still nervous, sometimes, and my girls are still getting used to Thomas' fun-loving personality and presence in their world, but I can't believe how well they mix, almost like we've been a family all along. He tells me my girls are cool. My girls tell me Tom is cool, even as they roll their eyes at his corny jokes and "gushing love" for me-which they actually are pleased to see, they can't fool me! They were absolutely charmed, by the way, when on Friday evening we all stopped by the nursing home where his father lives to visit and he so lovingly cared for an elderly alzeimer's lady who seems to enjoy wandering into his father's room. *While he escorted her back to her own room, Thomas' father mentioned how caring and intelligent his son is...he doesn't have to tell me, but it's still fun to hear.* This is the sort of thing he's teaching the girls with his actions, with the way he lives his life. The blessings raining down on me seem to be neverending these days. I told Thomas once, I told Mandy, too: if I had go through what I did, the tough times with Liz and their father and all the rest, to get to where I am right now, today...I'd do it all again without hesitation. Thomas is most assuredly heroic and super special in the eyes of myself and my girls. He is our gift.  |
| I'm once again gainfully employed, and once again I am working at a hotel, this time the kind where I fit like a glove and am charmed by everyone and everything there. It's a good job! I work at the Comfort Inn Rochester, a Choice Hotel with the same kind of computer program I worked with before. In fact, almost everything about the hotel is the same as the ones I have previously worked...a Sleep Inn and a Comfort Inn. It feels like old hat and I'm loving it The guests are great. Some of them are a tad quirky--like the college professor with long, frizzy hair and a flowing skirt who stopped on her way out to tell me IN DETAIL about her diahrea--some are a little sad--like the teenage boys who are here because their father is being treated at the Mayo Clinic for cancer...and he's dying.  That's Rochester for you. It's such a mix! That's why I love it AND this job. It's a writer's dream, all the people and situations I am privy to at this hotel. My boss is a lot like me in the way she's very flexible, incredibly laid back, and she always has a smile on her face. She's serious about her job, though, and when someone in "her" hotel is unhappy she'll bend until she breaks to fix it. In two days I feel almost the same way. I love this place!! There's a chess set on a small, square table in the corner of a lovely "sitting room" in the lobby. On the other side of the fireplace is a computer desk holding a new moniter and hard drive system for guests...and perhaps front desk people who have some down time, heh heh. There are also two couches and two easy chairs with a coffee table and an end table between the chairs. It's so restful and elegant at the same time. On the other side of the lobby is what they call the "breakfast room." Tables and chairs of cherrywood make the place look almost like a restaurant. We make eggs and sausage in the morning in addition to providing orange and apple juice, english muffins, donuts, muffins, and so much else I can't even remember it all... Music is piped through speakers all day and all night, quiet and classical and restful...I LOVE the atmosphere, the people, the guests...there's nothing like knowing you're going to enjoy where you go almost every day. And the best part? A good lookin' man named Thomas works about ten minutes away and visited me during lunch today! What a great job |
| I was never good at waiting. Patience is so NOT a virtue of mine Today I'm waiting for a call from a temp service called "Manpower." For those who don't know what a temp service is...it's a business which contracts workers out to other businesses-I'll soon be going to work for someone and I don't know who. I'm waiting with that old "bated breath" I've previously discussed. I was gainfully employed until last Thursday afternoon when I quit. It's true I wasn't employed for long, but I've never been good at trying to "stick it out" when I know the fit of something or somewhere is so woefully bad and not just tedious, but actively WRONG for me. I was unhappy, and the thought of going through my days in misery because of a job I hated...I just couldn't do it. I was working for a hotel which calls itself "partial service," meaning we were forced to stand and watch-never allowed to help-patients from the Mayo Clinic of Rochester struggle with bags and walking and sometimes simply waiting for the shuttle to take them to their next Clinic appointment. I've never been good at standing by and doing nothing, either. I had more than one issue with the place where I was working; the bottom line is that I no longer work there. I did indeed "cut and run." So now I wait... I signed up to Manpower on Thursday, took an aptitude test on Friday, and am supposed to soon receive a phone call about an assignment. To be honest, I kind of hope it's a nightime assignment. I'm not much of a sleeper anyway, and working nights-part time-would give me my days for doctor's appointments, errands, spending time with the girls, taking care of the house and the people important to me, and yet I'd be once again gainfully employed. Yup, for me nights are where it's AT in the work world. Have you ever worked nights? It's quiet. It's calm. There is time to think, and no matter what job it is one does at night-with perhaps a handful of exceptions-there is definately more opportunity to do things like write. I've worked at night in a grocery store, a hotel, a nursing home, a convenience store...yup, I love the nightlife. Even the times I've dealt with strange, inebriated, or just plain obnoxious people, more often than not it's been adventurous and yet another life experience to store in the back of my head and pull out when it's time to put words to print. And so I wait. I'm so not good at that. |
A new story in my port:
And I didn't get permission, which I know I should but oh well, Thomas has an amazing new story that SO deserves a look and more than one review/rating:
If you never comment in my blog again, at LEAST take a look and tell us what you think! |
| Has anyone seen that show on the Lifetime channel? I couldn't help rolling my eyes when I first saw advertisements for it before it aired. I like Carson Daley, the host, but would a gay man really know how to make a woman feel good about her body?! I have male gay friends whom I love dearly, but I can't say any of them strike me as being capable of pulling off that particular stunt...Once I watched the show-a fluke because I couldn't find the remote and felt too lazy to get up I was a convert. Carson, and the producers of the show, know what they're doing. They begin by giving a woman's background, a peek into where and how her self image became rooted in misperceptions and erroneous perfectionistic ideas. I love the part where the woman's family is shown, including her children if she has them, telling the camera how beautiful she really is but how she can't see it for herself. It's heartwrenching but sweet at the same time...and sort of reminds me of my own children They have told me off and on for years that I don't think highly enough of myself and what I look like. I've blown them off while at the same time telling them how beautiful THEY are, all the while knowing that my girls see the irony. They come from me. If I can't see my own beauty, how can I see it in them?! Oops, condundrum!Why do women walk around these days with such terrible self images?? Sure, there is a lot to be blamed on the modeling industry and media in general, but we can't completely place the blame on them. WE are the ones media caters to. If the public said "no" to size 0 unrealistic women who purge and starve to get to that ridiculous size, they wouldn't exist. So why? Where did we become a culture ready to worship starvation?? In this "land of plenty" it's understandable, actually. It's easy to have curves, these days, because of Hostess Twinkies and nacho cheese doritoes-it's not so easy to say "no" to those delightful treats and remain thin-to-skinny. What's off center, away from the norm, is considered desirable because it's HARD to get there! So where does that leave "big-and-beautiful" women who haven't said "no" enough and thus have stretched out our skin and sundry body parts? Where does that leave the "normal" woman with curves and sags from childbirth, advancing age, and just plain gravity? I want to lose weight, I make no secret of that. I'm very overweight and haven't felt good about my body for...maybe ever, even though I didn't become overweight until after the birth of my children. Perhaps THAT might have something to do with it...??? But now, for me, it's not the sags or the stretch marks or the "normalcy" of my aging body I cringe at when I look in the mirror. It's the weight. It doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel like ME, and it's everywhere I don't want it. I feel out of control when I see the bulges that shame me, tell me I don't know how to say "no" to myself. I have to close my eyes and pretend it's not there. But my knees know it's there. Exhaustion at the end of my days knows it's there. I, bottom line, know it's there, and yes, it shames me. I need to lose it. Before I can though, I need to accept myself just as I am, weight and all. I need to learn how to look good naked. I'm getting better at that even without Carson Daley coming into my bedroom, mainly because someone DOES come into my bedroom, these days, and prove to me how beautiful HE thinks I am. When he looks at me I feel beautiful, maybe for the first time ever. Who needs Carson? I have Thomas. I'm going to share a poem he wrote to me not too long after we first physically met and I actually shared my reticence about the weight issue...I didn't get his express permission to share it here but I don't think he'll mind: Every Detail From miles and miles and miles away, you somehow managed to see my kind heart. But standing so close that our lips were entwined, You caused my defects to all but depart. So please do not be filled with dismay. The love that I have is not based on a scale. Your heart and your soul for me were designed - I cherish you each and every detail. With this man in my life, how could I not feel better about who I am all over?! Even without a life partner like Thomas, however, all women need to get "real" about what's beautiful. Starvation and/or the plastic preservation of a false youth is so NOT! For myself...I still strive to see me even partially close to the way HE does, but as long as this so very wonderful man looks at me the way he does, I think I'll get there. |
| Not only do I have a home-I'm getting keys to the house tomorrow at noon-not only am I gainfully employed, but I've also been more creative within the last couple of months than I've been in the last year...and it has everything to do with, yes, Thomas. The man pushes me in ways that are vital. You see, I tend to be a dreamer of sorts, the kind who comes up with all KINDS of grand ideas and such, but when it comes to implementation...not so much. Along comes Thomas into my world, and suddenly here I am, productive and all! Isn't it GREAT when someone comes into your life who was just meant to be there? Someone who does exactly what you need to become the person you are supposed to be? That's Thomas for me. He's my soulmate, you know. What?? You are all getting cavities from the gushing??? Get used to it. I have a feeling I'll NEVER be done gushing about this guy. So anywho, I was "prompted" by a certain person to enter into another contest by mood indigo , one similar to her "follow the leader" blog contest. This one is for fiction. Those of us involved in the contest were to submit a prompt with a word and a description of a main character, and then we are all given the task of creating a short story from these criteria. I have written two-count them, two-short stories as a result of this lovely contest. The coolest thing...for some reason, during the writing of my first story, I again flashed on Thomas' poem I've already written a story from, and as a result I've created two MORE stories from that very poem. The first one I called "Invalid Item" , and I've continued the trend with these two offerings:
I invite you to read and comment...in fact I sort of beg. Neither Thomas or I have received much in the way of feedback on our respective stories, and believe me, his are very worthy of comment...you'll not be wasting your time! Isn't it great when life just comes together and becomes what it should be, what God intends it to be...which is all about joy. The joy of living. |
| I like to people watch. That's no surprise, considering I've blogged about it before-and I'm a writer. I think it's just what those of us creative types do, don't you? Painters, sculpters, actors...and writers. We watch because we create from it. Today I was standing on the sidewalk in downtown Rochester. At first I was oblivious to teaming humanity around me as I waited for the no. 12 bus and my mind was busy with all I had to do...then for some reason my brain screeched that sort of thinking to a halt and I heard a voice from somewhere deep within: take a look around, it said, really look at who is passing you by in your new hometown. Oookay, I told the voice. I will: The corner of my eye caught a young man walking past me, looking into the distance with a countenance I describe as "shell-shocked." he had white gauze elbow level on his right arm, bunched inside his elbow, a condition not uncommon at all in downtown Rochester, where he'd received a medical test of some kind. His condition screamed at me. Here he was, no older than probably his late twenties with tousled dull brown hair, kahki shorts, a blue t-shirt...he should have been at work or school or playing some noisy video game, but instead he was walking towards a Mayo Clinic building, the reason for the shell-shock patently obvious. A couple of men in suits passed me, name tags announcing the name of the pharmecutical company they represent. One man was young and eager-looking, the man next to him was iron-gray on his head and his face bespoke a jaded boredom I could see on his companion's face in another twenty years or so...if not sooner. They both carried large black attache` cases bulging with medicinal samples I was sure, and I flashed for a moment on my beautiful niece in Kansas City, working on her last year of pharmacy school. Across the street was a huge gray Mayo Clinic building. Adorning the front of the structure are bronze 3-D human figures in various poses, dramatic and artistic and not at all indicitave what what the building is all about...illness, research, science, hope, despair...it's all there in downtown Rochester. The quad was full today, the weather being mild and balmy and sunny. One man was sitting on concrete steps facing the sidewalk and street, playing a guitar and singing. A woman in a wheelchair was talking to a relative who was squirming with discomfort while he tried not to show it. One old man with that familiar guaze on his arm was being assisted on a walk by a daughter or grandaughter... My new hometown is interesting, no question. My writer's brain has been engaged, stimulated, and charged with the task of somehow bringing these people to life through print. Rochester, Minnesota, home of the famed Mayo Clinic conglomerate, is so full of people and their tales...I am home. |
| Joy to the World! I am no longer a vagabond *bowing to Mr. Carolina for the use of his term* I have a home, albeit not yet moved in, but yes: I, my three girls, one chicken dog, a very fat cat, and the love of my life are slated to move into a lovely townhome on the Northwest edge of Rochester, MN next week. The dream sees fruition... On Tuesday, August 12, I begin work at Extended Stay America South, a hotel in Rochester, the first one we stayed at, actually. It was during that stay when the front desk manager and I began to talk, she asked me to fill out an application which I did, and last Saturday I knew I had a job. The only thing missing was a home...and now I have that, as well. These two weeks in Rochester haven't been easy, but they have been necessary, eye-opening, soberiing, and wonderful all wrapped up into a big festive package with a bow on top. First of all, I know I belong here without a doubt because I have YET to get lost! You have no idea what that means in the larger spectrum if you haven't been at the mercy of my "directional dyslexia," but it's big I assure you. The people of Rochester are nice, they really are. I have yet to encounter one rude or inconsiderate person...okay, that's not true. There was one guy on a motorcycle who flipped off a slow-moving bus-I mean what does he expect, a FAST-moving bus-but other than that, people in Minnesota have proved themselves to be friendly, altruistic, chatty, and more than willing to help out a "newbie." I find it amazing, really, that such friendliness exists in a city of this size!And guess what? My handsome soulmate Thomas? He's human. I know, it's crazy, isn't it? And guess what else? Me? I'm human TOO! I know, double shock But guess what else?? We both love each other anyway. Now THAT'S been the coolest realization of ALL |
| Gypsies don't plan things out. They go by the seat of their pants-I'm loving that phrase these days-and let the wind blow them thither and yon. In theory it's not such a bad way to live. In practice it could have its downside. Before this summer I've been a pretty much blessed sort of gypsy. No matter what my "comedy of errors" life dredged up for me while I blew with the wind thither and yon, I always managed to land on my feet, sometimes with a gold coin in my teeth! It's easy to think being a gypsy is all fine and dandy when you live that sort of karmac existance. I started to take it for granted... I went along my merry way this summer with the idea to move on in life and in zip codes. The only real catch to my grand plan seemed to be the simple fact of one young teenager yet to start high school, one nineteen year old at a crossroads of life and sort of lost about where to go from here, and one twenty year old bipolar girl who just does not yet have the skills to take care of herself. So with these three motley types and a dog and cat-the dog being the big-chicken type and the cat being gargantuan and not prone to travelling well-we trekked out and away from Moline, Il. The glitches. Well darn, who knew you had to have a pesky PLAN before doing this sort of thing, before changing zip codes and venues and schools and lives? Shoot. I'm not in Ames IA even, folks! Nope, this gypsy has fooled you all- I am now residing in Rochester, MN. Yup, I'm in the state of 10,000 lakes. And oh yeah, Thomas. Heh heh. That poor man has been so supportive of my cockamamie ways and nonsensical planning skills. He's even working hard to, not really change me so much, but alter the way I go at some life situations-as in NO PLANNING. Sigh. If only we were Catholic I'd put his name in for sainthood. My poor kids, travel-weary and all, have left today to spend a week with their dad. He has a pool, cable television and plenty of internet, plus they'll get to spend time with their friends they haven't seen since their gypsy mom grabbed hold of them and sent us all packing...eh, there are upsides, there always are. They love Thomas, those girls of mine, and why NOT! He's an amazing man, after all. *he puts up with ME* Their dad will see how NOT easy it can be to deal with these young women on a daily basis *evil laughter here* and the girls might just appreciate their old gypsy mom a little when we are once again a family unit...with a place to live. Heh heh. |
| Susannah Deschain was a victim of the California quake. Not really a victim though, since strong women like us don't victimize well , but being at the mercy of things we cannot control...sucks. I've learned to temper my need for control of life and situations with a shrug of my shoulders and a laid-back sort of attitude that is part of my inner need to give UP control. Why? Because if we go through life trying to plan out and control the inner and outer workings of our lives...that's all we'll ever do. There are those who have a really hard time dealing with the unexpected. It throws them so much they don't know how to handle it and lose control of not only their surroundings, but of themselves. My middle daughter Rachael has a friend whose mom recently suffered such a breakdown of sorts- Rachael was supposed to travel with them into midstate Minnesota to spend some time at their "cabin," a house owned by her friend's grandparents. This "rustic backwoods" lakeside vacation home comes complete with a cook. How very nice-cough cough. The girl-Rachael's friend-comes from a background of privilage and very little which could be construed as "unexpected." This young woman is an only child of a registered nurse and a college professor, with an aunt who set up a trust fund for her and grandparents who...well, you get the picture. There's nothing wrong with a life of privilage by any means, but I do get a giggle when she comes to spend time with us...and shakes her head at our sitcom life, my comedy-of-errors existance, and her wonder that we smile and laugh and have a great time anyway...maybe BECAUSE of it all! Two weeks ago or so the Quad Cities suffered extensive damage as a result of punishing winds in the night, exceeding 90 plus miles an hour in some places. Moline, IL, our old homestead until about three weeks ago, suffered extensive damage to the point that most of the city was without power. A State of Emergency was declared for a couple of days and ice was handed out to local families...Rachael's friend's mother was thrown completely off kilter. She was set to pack for this trip to the cabin and an ensuing Italian cruise with the professor upon her return...and she was thrown so out of whack by the inconvience of no power that she became surly, rude, and pretty much lost it on the phone with me TWICE, to the point that I told Rachael I was very sorry but I didn't feel good at the idea of her trekking to Upper Minnesota with these people. Rachael is technically an adult and can make her own choices but she agreed with me in this case. She was sorely disappointed but understood that the mother was just too unstable for her to be able to have a good time. Driving to Minnesota last Monday, Rachael and I discussed her own enxiety issues and I told her that sometimes she makes a choice to allow it to take her over or not. Anxiety, I told her, is the notion that our world should be controllable, and when it's not there's something wrong. I told her that I know our seat-of-the-pants summer has been unnerving for her, but does she want to be more like me, who takes what life hands me and makes lemonade-or at least rolls with the unexpected punches-or does she want to be like the other mom who lets four days without power turn her into a lunatic? She seemed to think she could find a "happy medium" between gypsy me and lunatic her. She's probably right! |
| Tonight I accompanied Thomas to a dinner; one of his writing groups was hosting it for a member who is leaving soon for Massachusetts. I had a wonderful time with people I truly liked...and NOT just because they obviously know what a winner my Thomas is, heh heh. They were well read, interesting, cordial, and just darn pleasant. Of course they are, they're WRITERS! The guest of honor was a man orginally from India, named what we call Hari, with a short "o" sound on the a and a hard "d" sound on the "r." He was a nice young man of course, and sooo interested in geography--um, not one of my strongest subjects for anyone who hasn't been hopelessly lost with me But he asked where I was originally from and I told him...the Oklahoma Panhandle. "Where is that?" He asked and I attempted to explain it geographically...not an easy task, actually. "Why do they call it the Panhandle?" So I explained the shape of the state and the shape of the part from which I hail. More questions about the geography followed and now my head hurts, perhaps in no small way because of that very sweet young Indian man who was only trying to learn more about these United States of ours... I'm from the Boondocks. No way around it. The closest city of any merit from my hometown is Amarillo, TX, three hours away if you fly by the seat of your pants. Spring tumbleweeds and summer dust storms are the norm. It's usually 100 degrees in the shade by July, and that lasts well into September, folks. The land is dry and cracked, what vegetation exists starves for any moisture the sky might finally deign to give it...during the poetry retreat I wrote a narrative poem dedicated to my old homestead. I'll be sure to share it the minute I post it. I also discovered, not too long ago, that the Boondocks exists in many different places. When I broke down in my SUV, felt like a huge doofus extraordinaire and my hero Thomas came to save me from the evils of red SUVs that don't behave, there was the Boondocks, larger than life, ready to serve us well. We ate there. We got my SUV fixed there. We stayed in a motel right across from there. Best time in the Boondocks I EVER had, and I'm FROM the Boondocks. What "they" say is true. It really is the company you keep that matters most. I feel no shame I'm proud of where I came from I was born and raised in the boondocks One thing I know No matter where I go I keep my heart and soul in the boondocks And I can feel That muddy water running through my veins And I can hear that lullaby of a midnight train It sings to me and it sounds familiar And I can taste That honeysuckle and it's still so sweet When it grows wild On the banks down at old camp creek Yeah, and it calls to me like a warm wind blowing It's where I learned about living It's where I learned about love It's where I learned about working hard And having a little was just enough It's where I learned about Jesus And knowing where I stand You can take it or leave it, this is me This is who I am Give me a tin roof A front porch and a gravel road And that's home to me It feels like home to me I keep my heart and soul in the boondocks You get a line, I'll get a pole We'll go fishing in the crawfish hole Five-card poker on a Saturday night Church on Sunday morning You get a line, I'll get a pole We'll go fishing in the crawfish hole (Down in the boondocks) Five-card poker on a Saturday night Church on Sunday morning -performed by Little Big Town |
| Being feared has its drawbacks. I have a powerful personality. I know, this comes as a grand "shock" to those who know me best. I'm so sorry for that but there it is. Because of the power I wield in this flamboyant type person I can sometimes be, I'm sometimes-yes-feared. Go figure! I can be a nice person, this is true. For those who don't know me well, the part of me which is quite dominant could be a surprise. I used to know how to get things done, how to move it all along, how to make others jump when I gave the word while still maintaining their repect. I really did. I'm not so good at it these days. I got tired. And there's the rub to being feared, whether it's a respectful fear or a terror-induced fear. Keeping up the force of what it takes to BE that person is exhausting. I got bogged into being the "go-to" girl, the one everyone turned to when something had to be accomplished, to the point that now I'm not always great at getting MYSELF going to make my OWN life move along. Sheesh. Can anyone say, "from one extreme to the other?" I can feel my energy surging back, though. Somehow, in some way, I'm getting filled up by what had long been empty in my personal coffers--you know, another person to lean on, sometimes just talk to and laugh with and cry with and all that...yup, I'm getting filled. I was long long long past empty to the point that I'd been digging into my bone marrow, I think, to maintain the strength it takes to deal with Liz-woo, even at 20 she requires a strong fist of iron, and everything else I've taken on in life. Shoot, even my chicken dog had to be "escorted" up three flights of stairs by yours truly--the no-nonsense "mom" who wouldn't take no for an answer! But afterwards? I got to go lean on somebody. So nope, people may no longer look at me, see the "force," and scream "run for your lives," but that's cool. I'll settle for using my power for GOOD and getting regularly filled up to make my OWN life move along. Of course, I'll still have to use that "fear" thing on teenage boys...  |
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