Poke U

Go Pokes! Great game on Saturday. At least that was the general consensus. Football in any form makes my eyes roll back in my head. I used to try to be attentive - act like I care. But no. I really just don't.

The good thing about Saturday's game was that I was there in person, so the eyes stayed mainly in their sockets. I know when one of the dudes in orange appears to be running at high speed towards one of the goal posts that it's a good thing and I can cheer him on with the best of them. I know that when the old dude in the stripey pajamas puts his hands straight above his head it's a good thing. That would be a touch down and that is good news. Otherwise, I have a hard time following the ball or the game. My sister was a cheerleader one year in high school and I remember trying gamely to learn the rules. Something about first and down or fourth and down. I don't think they can go past four downs before they have to either get the stripey pajama guy to do his thing or politely give the ball to the other guys in the weird pants and Arnold Schwarzenegger shoulders.

It was a good occasion for hanging out with family though.

It was Dad's Day but we all butted in and went anyway. As my sister Shari said, "I didn't know cuteness was so important at these things." Probably because we were hanging out with the sorority bunch...or the pretty girls from the flag corp.

OSU Cousins! Do they not look like they could be sisters? I guess if their mothers are identical twins then genetically they are half sisters right? Anyone?

So other than hanging out with the beautiful people, I've just been working away saving the world one dollar at a time. The gig with United Way is going well. We mercifully finished training, have been assigned our sectors and accounts, and are busy raising those dollars. I've been assigned the entire education sector, which means I'm covering all the large school districts in the city and many of the small ones. Which is cool. Except teachers don't really get paid much here in Oklahoma and what they do get paid they spend on their students. So let's just say I'm glad I don't get paid on commission. Don't get me wrong - educators are some of the most generous people I know. But you can only squeeze a dollar so tightly before it squirts out its last penny. I'm just sayin'.

In other news, I entered a writing contest and... well, I guess that's all the other news. I should get the results in about six weeks, at which point I will have forgotten all about it.

Hope you have a great week! Hugs to all!!

Where's Waldo?

Cari, Oh Cari
Where have you been?
I've been to London to see the Queen



Cari, Oh Cari
What did you there?
I frightened a mouse
from under her chair


OK not really, but I do feel a little like Mother Goose. Or the old woman who lived in a shoe. My motherly duties have brought me great joy and buckets of sweat in the last week. That is why I have been absent from bloggerland and I think it's a pretty darn good excuse. Wow. Someones feeling a little defensive.


While I would love to provide you with all kinds of awesome photos, photoshopped to perfection, of my activities of late, I lost my camera a while back and now only have my phone with which to take photos. And although my phone takes photos, it does not want to give them up so that I can share them with you. Turns out I needed to have bought a media card to go in my phone if I wanted to get the pictures out of my phone. One questions why my phone is enabled to take pics if I can neither email them nor download them. But one also questions why the sky is blue, why Joe Biden cannot self-censor, and why cupcakes can't be calorie free.

Where have I been?


3 days: washing dishes and setting tables with the other mom and alum volunteers at Tessa's sorority during rush week. Which led to the question - why does it take an industrial dishwasher two minutes to wash a load of dishes when it takes the dishwasher in my kitchen a full hour.

The girls displayed their smart, beautiful and accomplished selves and did an awesome job on recruitment. I think they are feeling very proud of and excited about their new recruits and have actually now gotten some sleep. We volunteers displayed our servant selves, our sweat pants and T-shirt selves, and were decidedly less beautiful but still had fun bonding in the heat of the kitchen.

1 morning: cheering Angela as she competed in the Hillapalooza Sprint Triathlon. Seriously I do not know whose child she is. It just goes to show that no matter how you were raised, you can still be your own individual self. She was definitely not raised to be a triathlete. In this case nature wins out over nurture in the eternal social debate.

1 day: volunteering at Angela's new school, putting desks together before opening day. It's tough getting a brand new school all ready! There are a million little details. I'm proud of her ability to roll with it and successfully teach a room full of 5th graders with no textbooks or other resources. Hopefully she will get access to her boxes of teacher stuff this weekend and be fully resourced by Monday.

1 day to prepare for and teach the first night of one of the university courses I teach.

Somewhere in there I managed to celebrate my 49th birthday. Happy birthday to me. And to my twin sister, Shari.

Aaannd now we're back to Friday. I think it might be a lay-by-the-pool day. I'm worn out!

Feelin' Groovy

What is that noise? I don't recognize it. Wait. It seems familiar in a hazy, I've heard that somewhere before but I can't place it sort of way. Reaching back into the hidden compartments of the middle-aged woman's brain...almost have it...there it is! That sound is

SILENCE!

Tessa has gone back to her college town, Mark is working at a client's office, the in-laws haven't emerged from their room yet. Silence. Blessed, glorious sound of silence. Ahhh.

The Sound of Silence. Great, now I have Simon & Garfunkle lyrics stuck in my head. "Hello darkness my old friend. I've come to talk to you again." I once knew the words to every song on the Simon & Garfunkle's Greatest Hits album.

"And here's to you Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know...Wowowo"

"I am a rock, I am an i-iii-land. And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries"

Rocks, islands, parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Why did we love these songs so much? Maybe because the tunes were catchy and the lyrics easy to understand? All I know is that when I'm old and senile I'll still be able to bust out a chorus of "Feelin' Groovy".

Funny how a time or place or feeling can be conjured up by a song. I can see it now. All of us Generation Jonesers in the assisted living facility calling down the spirits of our youth. We'll be gathered around the pajama-clad dude - the one who managed to salvage an old guitar from the yard sale the day all of his worldly goods were spread out on the lawn to be sold to strangers with pockets full of rumpled dollar bills. He can still remember the chords and we all join in. "Like a bridge over troubled waters, I will lay me down". Then we move on to Elton John with a little "Rocket Man" as we rock in our chairs, nod knowingly, and sing "I think it's gonna be a long, long time".

Weekends and family

Photo: Reuters.com

Without a job to organize my week, I've been a little confused about what day it is. I believe this is Monday, which means I had a really great weekend, since that would make yesterday Sunday and the day before that Saturday. Brilliant reasoning, I know.

Family is what made the weekend special. My dad came in from Colorado and my aunt and uncle from Kansas to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Bethany Schools. Mom hosted about 30 ladies at her house for a reunion luncheon. They were all so cute! And noisy!!! Put 30 women in a room, some who haven't seen each other for 50 years, and the noise level rivals a stadium full of vuvuzelas.

I have that word - vuvuzela - stuck in my head. There is something about it that just rolls off the tongue. Kind of like Bafana Bafana, South Africa's national football (soccer) team. Just hearing Bafana Bafana catapults me back to the year we lived in Johannesburg. While living there I never once, however, encountered a vuvuzela. Plenty of ululation, but no vuvuzelas. I love onomatopoetic words almost as much as I love a good palindrome.

Anyway, before I got distracted by "fun with words" I was talking about family. I'm grateful that we are continuing to gather in Oklahoma. Niece Cori is in town to interview for a job that would bring her into the circle of cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents that are slowly assembling here. Her friends in Colorado purportedly can't understand why she would want to live in this state. After living many, many place, I can tell them why it's a good place to live. It's a good place to live because that's where family is. End of story.

I wish I hadn't just watched iRobot!

photo: nydn.org

Did you see the story about the 90-something woman who exhumed her dead husband and dead twin sister, propped them on separate couches in her tidy little home, and enjoyed little chats about her day while drinking tea? I made up the tea part. She's more of a vodka tonic kinda gal. OK, I made that part up too. I did NOT make up the dead people part.

The article didn't say whether Miss Jean had any children or church members to check up on her, although there apparently were neighbors who helped out. The investigators determined she was mentally healthy - except for the whole "I see dead people" thing.

The population of elderly folks is predicted to double before 2050, with most of the growth occurring between 2010 and 2030 when our Baby Boomer parents reach their elder years. These aging parents will need support and care from adult children. There's something called the parent-support ratio that I found...um...interesting. The ratio is predicted to be almost 3.5 "kids" aged 50-64 to care for every one parent over age 85. Of those elders over age 85 who are not "institutionalized", 50% need assistance with ordinary, everyday activities like bathing, cooking and getting around the home.

I think isolation is one of the biggest dangers for our elders. There is no substitute for face-to-face contact to help with the inevitable loneliness of living alone or to evaluate mental, spiritual and physical health. All I can say is, we're going to need some help!





Statistics from http://www.census.gov/apsd/www/statbrief/sb95_8.pdf

Vive la différence!

Photo from newsok.com - http://newsok.com/oklahomans-celebrate-independence/multimedia/photos/gallery/3473520/1/

I have apparently taken on the roll of family event organizer, although it's a little like herding cats. Sometimes you just have to give up polling the masses, pick a place and time, and see who shows up. This July 4th has lived up to the herding challenge, and not just because of the usual need to take into account everyone's preferences and schedules.

First there's the Bible Belt challenge. Every time a major holiday falls on a Sunday, town councils get busy rearranging the corresponding events. I can see moving the 10:00 a.m. parade away from the Sabbath. Few will choose parade attending or marching over worshiping. One would not want to miss the patriotic medley carefully prepared by the music minister and choir. But was it necessary to reschedule the fireworks?

Then there's the weather challenge. Yesterday parades all over the city were rudely interrupted by an absolute downpour, sending teenage beauty queens and tuba players scrambling for shelter. Today promises more of the same, with sunshine mixed with drenching rain making it difficult to plan. Dear invited guests - please bring your swimsuit and rain poncho along with your covered dish.

Just when I think I have it all organized, plans start changing. That plan for family members to join OKC Kayaks on their social paddle down the Oklahoma River to view the fireworks in Bricktown? Canceled due to predicted bad weather. Why do I hear fireworks at 10:00 on Saturday night? Because Bethany is holding their fireworks display on July 3rd. I really need to read the paper. Do they print these things or are we just supposed to intuitively know it.

And then there are the personal preferences. I have a phobia about loud noises so if we watch fireworks, I'll be wearing noise-deadening headphones. I am a closet pyromaniac and will be spending a month's wages on things that go boom and need a place to blow stuff up. I (temporarily) don't have any teeth so I don't want to go out in public. I don't like being outside where there are bugs. I prefer to be outside participating in extreme sports. I don't like large crowds. It's exhausting!!

Come to think of it, I guess that's what this holiday is all about -celebrating living in a country where you can freely do as you choose. Today we'll celebrate the family diversity and celebrate the freedom. God bless America and pass the hot dogs. Or brisket. Or veggie burgers.

"You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism." - Erma Bombeck

Today is the first day of...yada yada yada

Day two of unemployment. And no, I'm not planning to give you a rundown of each and every day as they begin to blend together in a never-ending series of "what do I do now". Today I woke up super anxious. That aching, nervous feeling in my belly greeted me about the time the sun came up. And considering we're only days on the other side of the summer solstice, the sun appears very, very early. Well, not as early as it does in say, Minsk, but early enough.

It's sort of a nameless, panicky nervous. I mean, I have no responsibilities whatsoever. What could I possibly be all jittery about. Oh yeah, the mortgage, the car payments, one more year of college. We were doing so well on our plan to be relatively debt free with two college-educated offspring by this time next year. God, please don't let that plan go down the toilet.

Good think God listens to disjointed shout outs. Because right now I have the attention span of my grandpuppy, and that's not very impressive.

I need to go downstairs and help my precious mother-in-law get ready to go to the dentist. We're down ten teeth from a month ago. Those suckers just keep breaking off. No sooner do we settle on a treatment plan with the dentist and another couple teeth bite the dust. Or a cracker. Or a peanut. It doesn't seem to take much.

Because we're also dealing with deepening dementia (not me - her. But wait a month...) it has been difficult to coax her to the dentist or even keep her partials in her mouth. I'm hoping today we can find something that works for her. One can only eat so much applesauce and cottage cheese!

And yes, it's a rare blogger who can find a way to work cottage cheese into a blog post.

An apple a day and other tall tales

Let's talk about food, shall we? Have you been watching Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution? We became fans of Jamie, aka "The Naked Chef" back in our South Africa days. Anyway, back to his one-man revolution. He's hanging out in Huntington, West Virginia trying to change people's attitudes about food. It's not exactly the bastion of homemade granola and organic veggies there. Come to think of it, I'm surprised he didn't come to Oklahoma! We're ranked the 6th most obese state. West Virginia is third, so I guess they win. Here's what Jamie says...

"I believe that every child in America has the right to fresh, nutritious school
meals, and that every family deserves real, honest, wholesome food."

What? No more counting ketchup as a vegetable? No more pizza Fridays? I used to love pizza Fridays. And Mac and Cheese.

Eating healthy is an ongoing challenge. You know they say to shop the perimeter of the store to stick with the healthy foods, right? The bakery is on the perimeter! And so is the deli! Apparently "they" have never been to Homeland. "They" must have been hanging out at Whole Foods where, by shopping the perimeter they avoid the massive display of wine and other alcoholic beverages that are stronger than the 3.2 beer allowed to be sold in Oklahoma grocery stores.

In our house the men have eased into doing most of the cooking during the week. Hallelujah! Amen. I come home from work and the husband and the father-in-law are busy planning what to throw on the grill. Because real men only cook meat outdoors. And they try, really they do, to make balanced meals. Want a cinnamon roll and a baked potato with that pork chop?

Sometimes though, they just forget to eat. I KNOW! So strange. On Saturday they headed out to do their Saturday errands only to discover that the father-in-law hadn't had anything to eat - at 10:30 a.m. I'm sorry but my first waking thought, after "man I have to pee" is "what's for breakfast?". Mark got so busy doing yard work later in the day he forgot to eat lunch. Who ARE these people?

I guess it's up to us women to try to balance out the meat and potatoes diet. It was a man who started McDonald's. And Wendy's? Founded by a dude. The burger and fries is just another version of meat and potatoes. It's a man's food world out there. I've decided that back in the Garden of Eden, the fall of Man wasn't really all Eve's fault. The poor woman was just trying to add a little fruit to their diet.

Monday's Suck

Oh the pain of returning to work after five glorious days off. Five whole days during which there was not one episode of panic, anger, or that anxious knot in the pit of my stomach. There was only sunshine, peace, yard work, cooking with the spring-breaking college daughter, a trip to Home Depot and the movies with the spring-breaking teacher daughter, coffee with my sister. A glorious, glorious lack of responsibility, obligations, and other annoying stuff. And even a snow storm to force us inside to entertain ourselves with baking and movies and napping. Cable Movies on Demand is a great invention.

Now it's back to business. Not only is today a full day at the office, but I somehow managed to agree to teach a university course for a month of Monday nights without checking the "Dancing With The Stars" schedule. What was I thinking? Hopefully there will be episodes on Hulu. Hulu is a great invention.

Happy Monday. And by happy Monday I mean Monday's suck. Too bad the odds of winning Power Ball are so ridiculous or I'd be hoping for some big money pay out to come rescue me. Of course, I'd have to actually buy a Power Ball ticket, which I think is a huge waste of money. Anyway, I guess I'm gonna have to rescue myself if I want to be rescued from the daily grind. There's got to be a way to work from home!

Hope you didn't come here for a cheerful dose of happiness. You should know me better than that! Check back in with me in a few hours and I will have successfully transitioned back into the real world and be less of a Debbie Downer. Plus I will have had a cup of coffee.

Irish Eyes Are Smiling

It's spring break and it's St. Patrick's Day and I have a few days off from work.

Now you're all caught up. Buh-bye.

Just kidding. I'll throw out a few more thoughts in case you too are looking for filler material for Spring Break. What, you aren't competing in the Victoria's Secret bikini contest in Panama City? Not part of the MTV Spring Break cast in Acapulco? Not risking being murdered in a Mexico border town? Or maybe your parents are under the illusion they can still control your life and put the kibosh on those plans, and then your back-up plan to do relief work in Haiti didn't work out either. Sucks for you. But seriously, EVERYBODY is not on a beach somewhere for Spring Break. That's not statistically possible.

In a middle aged version of Spring Break, I'm considering planting a garden this week. Or at least digging up a garden plot and planting it after the threat of frost is over. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Sounds gardener-ish to me. So quick, somebody talk me out of it before I get myself in too deep. Since we now live together with the in-laws and my Father-in-law is a gardener from way back, I was hoping he could guide me through the process. Or maybe I should just find a good farmer's market. Or plant two tomato plants and call it good.

In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I guess I'll go find something green to wear. There's Irish blood on Mark's side of the family just a couple of generations back, so we'll be doing a wee dance and drinking a pint 'o green tea. And I'll remember my own amazing Grandfather, who was born on March 17. Mark and I both have a good and Godly heritage that goes way back. We have a lot to build on.

But as the Irish say..."You've got your own growing to do, no matter how tall your Grandfather was."

21 Gun Salute

"We're dealing with children, they need to be terrified, it's like mothers milk to them - without it their bones won't grow properly." (Sue Sylvester - Glee)

My baby is 21 today. I'm not going to dwell on how old that makes me feel, because today's not about me. Actually, no day is about me. Once you're a mom it's rarely about you. It's all about how to get this creature who was just squeezed out of a very small and heretofore generally unseen part of your body and laid in all her gooey glory on your breast to adulthood. To become a reasonably well-adjusted, contributing member of society. To not pick her nose or her wedgie in public. To bathe regularly, change her underwear daily, keep embarrassing images off of Facebook, respect those in authority, love God, and call or text her mom occasionally. And not necessarily in that order.

Somehow in this crazy whirlwind life we've led she managed to grow up by all accounts and appearances to be healthy and well adjusted. As a family we have made more memories in these 21 years than most people make in a lifetime. And she's just getting started. Twenty-one is an important milestone, and I've been trying to think of something new that I would add to the things I wish for her. But really, my wishes are the same as they have been from that first moment on February 7, 1989.

Now that both my daughters are adults, I suppose my desires for my children have morphed into a more grown-up version.

• Love God. It's THE thing that really matters over the course of your life, not to mention eternity.
• Be transparent. You know I have a thing about that.
• Don't put off really living this day. It's easy to get caught up waiting for something better, something bigger, something...whatever. Don't waste today waiting for that something.
• Forgive, then forget. Unforgiveness rots the soul. Just let it go.
• Find joy in the simple. Sometimes life sucks, so it's important to cultivate the habit of looking for joy in unexpected places.

I just know I couldn't be prouder, couldn't be more impressed, couldn't be more grateful.

Happy 21st, sweet girl.

Lord help us!

Can I be honest? I mean really honest. Living with dementia is no fun. Living with someone who suffersfrom dementia, to be more accurate, although I often suffer from severe fuzz-brain-ness myself.

The precious mother-in-law is sinking deeper into a world where we cannot follow. Some days it - the beast of dementia- manifests itself as a little confused but cute and looking out at a world that is all sweetness and light. And then there is yesterday. Wow. I mean. Wow.

On days like yesterday there is no redirecting, no reasoning, no hugs or kind words that can stop the river of mean and ugly. And the thing we all know is, it's not her. It's not the mother and grandmother we all know and love. It's a disease that has attacked and betrayed her, and us along with it.

I've already asked forgiveness from my husband for the future actions of my demented mind. Should I be run down by the same beast, may you all remember me as I once was, and not as I may be if my body and/or mind becomes my enemy instead of my friend. Let's grab the moments now to hug and laugh and play so that we can face the future with the strength and courage that comes from a lifetime of love.

Miss you!

Hello, hello. Anybody out there? I've just been lollygagging around since last you heard from me. That's a weird term, don't you think. It's really a grandma kind of term, so I'm showing my advanced age. Although I am not (yet) a grandparent. No pressure kids. Seriously. Baby Gap never goes out of style, so all those darling little baby things I have stashed in the closet can wait. While you lollygag. While my friend Judy sends me her grandbaby picture of the week. Weekly.

I just looked up the definition of lollygag:

lol-ly-gag (lah-lee-gag)
verb - (used without object)
1) to spend time idly; loaf
2) to indulge in kisses, caresses; make love; neck
Origin 1860-65 Americanism, origin unknown


OK - seriously never heard of the second definition. I was actually referring to the first for myself, although the second definition certainly applies to the making of grandbabies. Oh chill out. I'm just kidding. You have to wait until I retire to produce grandbabies so I can babysit.


I started this post out planning to provide you with a list of all the things I've been doing instead of blogging. Somehow I got off track. There's a big surprise. So really, I can't remember how much I've told you. So I'm just gonna put it in a list.

1. Mark has recovered nicely from losing his job by starting his own business. He's been crazy busy doing accounting/bookkeeping/software training and I couldn't be prouder. He even managed to squeeze a week in Florida into his schedule. He says he was working there and I have to believe him since he actually got paid. God is good. All the time. Anybody need a good accountant?


2. My day job has been non-stop, go-go-go and I've been teaching a couple of classes at a local university in the evenings.


3. And here's something really, really exciting. My sister and I started a non-profit. Call us crazy. We won't care because we already know this. We are scared, petrified, excited, breathless, tired. It's a long story, but you can get a glimpse of it here.

And here we are at Thanksgiving week. Give thanks, give thanks, give thanks. Because no matter what is going on in your life, there's always a little room for the giving of thanks. And grandbabies.

Circus Circus

It's the perfect fall day today and I'm off to walk in the country with my sister. Then it's all about watching the grand-puppy and our niece's baby. Ang and Riley are off trail-mapping and camping somewhere in the depths of southeast Oklahoma (leaving grandpuppy with us) and the niece is headed to Stillwater to hang out with Tessa (leaving Rylin with us). Might be a circus in our household today! Two senior citizens, two middle-agers, two dogs and a baby. Throw in some trick-or-treaters ringing the doorbell and it's a recipe for total chaos. Fun chaos of course.

I need something to take the edge off of the seriousness of life and this just might be the thing. Wish me luck. I'm wishing you a blessed day.

One thing at a time

I worked without stopping for anything but sleep pretty much all last week. So I took today off. Yay me. My list of things I would loooovvve to do is oh so long. Does anyone else have that problem? I could spend my days creating things, thinking, reading, and of course, napping. So today I am using unusual discipline and sticking to one thing. Nesting.

We've lived in the new house now for (checking calendar) about ten weeks. And although things are pretty much in place, there are still random boxes to unpack, artwork to hang and decorative items to arrange. And rearrange. And arrange again. It takes me a while to get things settled where I want to leave them for a good long time. Plus I'm trying to integrate our decorative stuff with the in-laws decorative stuff, attempting to avoid the "theirs and ours" school of decorating.

Mark is working from home a lot these days, and I need a home work space too, so I'm thinking of putting together a home office. We've never really had one - we usually just have a room that collects all the furniture that doesn't work for any other room. So part of my nesting day is to pull together a workable and pleasant space for officing.

I'm the master of multi-tasking, but I'm thinking it's not really working so well for me lately. I'm experimenting with being a little more focused, more single-minded. This day of nesting is part of that experiment. I'll let you know how it goes. And I will NOT read that web design magazine I bought yesterday, or try a few new tricks on Photoshop, or answer work emails, or go to Hulu to watch the episode I missed of Modern Family. Today is all about nesting.

General Manager of the Universe and other tall tales

If you read my last post about online advertisements following me around, and you didn't read the comments, I thought I'd share as a public service announcement. My computer whiz little brother had the following to say. Seems like very sound advice to me!

My $.02: It's all about the cookies. Make sure your browser is set to not accept 3rd-party cookies (I mean, they'd be totally stale by the third party anyway!). I also use three browsers - Firefox for the important stuff like online banking, Chrome for social stuff like Facebook or Blogger, and Safari for general anonymous browsing, news, research, etc. And, never let anything save your password(s) and if it asks you to turn on "auto-complete", remember Nancy Reagan and just say no. :-)

He's always been smart like that. Genius shows up in random blossoms on our family tree. Come to think of it, maybe I'm the outlier. Hmm.

My genius seems to be for organizing. I want to organize all the planets and galaxies of my universe. OK everyone, sort yourselves out and line up accordingly. Inefficiency drives me crazy. I schedule my trips to the bathroom around when I have something to drop in the office mail box, papers to put in the recycling bin, and a check request to drop off in the office one over from mine. Does anyone else do that? Seriously, one day I'm going to pee myself waiting to get everything organized for that trip down the hall. It would be so inefficient to stop midway through a draft of our quarterly newsletter just to answer the call of nature.

Do NOT mistake my genius for organizing for an ability to be neat and tidy. Planning/organizing are not the same as being tidy. Those of us with this type of genius often operate in a cluttered environment. It's hard to be tidy when one is managing the universe.

What the Fungi?!

Half the time I don't write on this blog for fear of over-sharing. I could sit down here every day and pour out my thoughts, because, let me tell you, there's plenty going on. But like pretty much everyone else in the universe, I live amongst people and people have feelings. And I have feelings. And boundaries. So I'm never quite sure where the line is between being honest and open versus crossing some boundary line.

I took the photo of these mushrooms while lying on my belly in my backyard. I'm in a LOT of pain with my back lately, so that was no small effort. I hope you appreciate it! These 'shrooms are a symbol of life to me. They represent the unplanned, unexpected things that just pop up to mar the landscape. You think you've gotten your life like your lawn - all green and healthy and free of weeds and debris. Then you turn around and there's fungi. WTF! I didn't see that coming.

So anyway, here's an edited list of my life, because I haven't done a list in a very long time, and you all know how much I love a good list.

1. My back is "out" whatever that means, and I can't seem to get any relief. Finally went to the doc yesterday and got pain meds, muscle relaxers and steroids. Trouble is, when I take any of these things I'm down for the count. I pretty much do a face plant in my pillow and don't move, which seems like a total waste of these beautiful fall days.
2. While visiting the doctor yesterday, I ran into a familiar face. My husband - who was in the next exam room with my father-in-law. The FiL had fallen down some stairs and hurt his shoulder. Fortunately nothing is broken or torn - just very painful. He's on the same meds I am. Yay. Mark is now in search of some of that non-skid, glow-in-the-dark tape to put on the offending stairs to keep that from happening in the future. And the good doc is leaving on a trip to Cancun tomorrow, funded in large part by my family! The man is now treating three generations of accident prone Ogdens.
3. Mark lost his job last week. Yay. That's an odd phrase, don't you think? I mean, he knows where his job was/is. But it's not like if he looks long enough, or tries to remember where he put it, he will get it back. So yeah. What the Fungi!
4. I've been arguing with my boss all week. Seriously. Is he just that stupid or am I just in that much pain. (see #1)
5. The Aunties are coming. This is a very good thing. But it has caused a great deal of confusion with the precious mother-in-law, who can't remember what week or day her sisters are coming, and can't get up the stairs to see that the extra bedrooms are prepared, thus prompting much worry and fussing. What I really want to do is set up a video camera and let it roll while the sisters reminisce about the dust bowl days. I love to hear the stories and I'm afraid they will be lost soon. Haven't I seen public service announcements looking for people who lived through the dust bowl? Anyone know?

So yep, a small sampling of the stuff that's popped up in my lawn/life. What you don't see here is the emotion, the anger, frustration, pain, joy, laughter that comes with life's fungi. I'm trying to stay well back from the over-sharing boundary line. Which makes for some pretty boring reading, I suppose. Not to mention we all have fungi, so who wants to read about mine.

Take it down a notch!

Everyone in my house is deaf. Really, only two of us are certifiable. (Shut up. I'm talking about having a hearing deficit.) My mother-in-law wears hearing aids to assist. I do not yet, but hope to someday soon. I've never had my hearing officially checked, but it's a well know fact I can't hear. I would be easily certifiable.

My twin sister has done all the work of going to have her hearing checked and buying the hearing aids. So I really don't need a doctor to tell me I can't hear. There's some weird genetic thing that caused us both to lose some of our hearing at about the same age. Genetics are interesting. Our paternal grandmother had the same problem.

But back to the epidemic of deafness in my household. Every sentence has to be repeated at least twice. Personally, I think it's more of an attention deficit than a hearing deficit. You know it's a lack of paying attention when you wait before repeating yourself while the communication slowly works its way through the fog. Then the answer. See. I knew you heard me.

Here is where if this were a blog of some substance I'd draw a parallel between our family's attention deficit epidemic and the state of the public conversations in this country. I'd point out that if everyone would stop yelling and actually listen, we might not be building these walls of fear and anger and accusations. But that's not what this blog is about, so I'll leave it to you to draw those parallels.

I'll just go back to trying to hear those around me and trying to make myself heard. For me, the key to hearing is being in close proximity - close enough where I can see the lips moving, and understanding the context. When the back is turned, or the hand is over the mouth, something obstructs my view...forget it. For me, seeing and hearing are very much interdependent. I have to see you to hear you.

Feel free to read between the lines some more and apply your conclusions to the shouting, hearing-impaired world around us. Sheesh. Everybody, simmer down!

The end and the beginning - it's an endless loop

I'm awake and it's four in the morning. Another storm has rolled in and another bout of restless leg syndrome along with it. Not that the two are related. My legs are just protesting that they have been at rest too long and it's time to get up and move. They pretty much control my life.

Today we are scheduled to close on the Bethany house. It's not over 'till the fat lady sings, they say. Hopefully I'll be singing at 11:30 this morning!!! Then we will be down to one household. Hallelujah!!! Amen.

Mark and I are nostalgic about the Bethany house, which I suppose is perfectly normal, even though I often caught myself cursing it. Every time I started to complain in my head about that old house, I would stop and say a prayer of thanksgiving. It was a blessing, provided at a time when we needed shelter and a place to call our own. A place where our family could heal.

The list of important life events that happened during our tenure in that house is long. I won't bore you with the details. The memories are pouring into my heart and head. Beautiful girls ready for proms and formals, volleyball games well played, new found love, romance, engagement and a wedding. Attempts to make a comfortable home with furniture bought at thrift stores or handed down by generous relatives. Endless home renovations with some awesome new skills learned. And a whole collection of power tools. I love power tools.

Today marks another milestone in our life, another testament to God's goodness. Maybe I'm just getting old, but I find myself only remembering the good. There has been plenty of bad. Plenty of pain, just like anyone or group of someones who attempt to live life to the fullest would experience. But I'm choosing more often than not to remember the fun, the good, the blessed and forget the rest. Or at least learn the lessons and move on.

This is me, doing a happy dance, on my way back to bed. Maybe I can snatch another hour of sleep before the alarm goes off and the new day and era begins.

empty nest empathy

My sister called last night just to talk to someone who gets the pain of the empty nest. Her girls are gone for the summer, but it's just the prelude to being gone for good.

My sister and I went to live in Switzerland the first semester of our senior year in high school. My grandfather, a gifted theologian and teacher, was going there with my grandmother to teach for a semester. They were brave enough to invite two 17 year old teenagers to tag along. It was no less than a life altering experience.

I tell you that because it was my own mother's first experience with the empty nest. I remember her telling me later that she would sit at my desk in my bedroom, looking at all my high school paraphernalia, and feel the empty ache deep down in that hole that had opened up at the departure of her daughters.

I chose to go to college far away from home and again, my mother struggled privately with saying good-bye, leaving me there on the sidewalk in front of the dorm, knowing it was a temporary separation - a trial. The real leaving home would come later.

In reality, my sister and I don't really have empty nests. Our daughters may be gone, or still coming and going from college, but our houses are full. My house now holds four adults - two generations coexisting, plus Tessa for a few more weeks. We've exchanged caring for children for caring for parents. (My precious in-laws are probably wondering how it came to be that they are once again sharing their home with their children) My sister and her husband are opening their home to a couple of young women, providing transitional time and space. I think the empty nest is more of a heart issue.

Yes, we knew this day was coming --the day all of our years of mentoring, guiding, disciplining, dance-chaperoning, arguing, laughing, playing, cookie-baking, knee bandaging-- would come to an end. That's the plan, the goal, and we are grateful for it. Knowing we did our absolute best, knowing the daughters are relatively prepared for life, and leaving the light on and the bedroom available...those are the only things that soothe.

And maybe a phone call to someone who gets it.