Sleeping With The Memory

I took a ride with my other half the other day because he wanted to show me something. I became interested when he suggested I bring the camera.

I enjoy sharing landscape photographs with old friends in Texas. I love it when they're envious of the Virginia landscape. The twists and turns of the road provide constant visual stimulation--to say the least!--and the mountains seem to wrap around like a protective barrier.

My daughters have come to appreciate certain aspects of a change of scenery. Old and familiar offers no challenge. Life becomes a drudgery. Bad habits creep in and days run together. Before long, there is no time.

People make time for what is important. Or like my other half philosophies, "People do what they want to do." Maybe the tough part is figuring out what you want to do... or not playing out the many "what ifs" in your head.

Just keep moving. Do something. Then at the end of the day, you can rest peacefully with your memories.

Do You See What I See?

I'm am stilll dealing with the fact that my children have returned to their respective homes and I cannot see them daily...

Truth be told, it will probably be at least 4 0r 5 months before I can hug either one. Bearing that in mind, I will share this thought from DailyOM.com

Uncover Your True Face
Underneath the Mask

Many of us know the feeling of being stuck in a particular role within our families, as if we are wearing masks whenever we see the people we love. Maybe we are the good daughters, expected to always please others, or perhaps we are the family clowns, expected to be jovial and make everyone laugh. This same scenario can play out within a work situation or a group of friends. We may be so good at our role that we hardly even notice that we are wearing a mask, and yet, deep down, we know that we are not free to simply be who we really are. This can leave us feeling unseen and uneasy.

There is nothing inherently wrong with wearing a mask or playing a role. It is a natural part of any social dynamic and it can even be creative and fun. It only becomes a problem when you feel that you have no other choice than to wear that mask, and this is especially challenging if you realize you are never without one. Perhaps you have forgotten who you really are—a vast and unrestricted being of light—and have identified yourself completely with a role. You may be the dutiful, caring son who keeps his parents’ dysfunctional marriage intact. You may be the angelic wife who enables your husband to continue on a destructive path. You may be the cheerful daughter to a deeply depressed mother. Whatever the case, knowing the motivation behind your performance—the function of your mask—can help to uncover your true face.

Anytime we find ourselves stuck behind a mask, it is an indication that we are entangled in a dysfunctional dynamic in which our true self cannot be seen. We have been placed in this situation for the purpose of our own healing and, in some cases, the healing of others. From this perspective, life can be seen as a series of situations that call us to remove our masks—gently, and with great compassion for all concerned—to reveal the beauty underneath.

Saving My Money For Cheap Wine

(I'm passing along an amusing antecdote... sent to me from my sis.

My wife and I were sitting at a table at my high school reunion, and I kept staring at a drunken lady, swigging her drink as she sat alone at a nearby table.

My wife asks, "Do you know her?"

"Yes," I sighed.
"She's my old girlfriend. I hear she took to drinking right after we split up many years ago,--and she hasn't been sober since."

"My God!" says my wife, "Who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?"

Note to my Texas attachments:

Plans are finally in the works for a Virginia Women's Circle!

The Path Ahead

A Ray of Sushine

According to urban legend, two people looking at the same glass can see something entirely different.

As much as we’ve heard this, it’s still a fine example of how our perspective can mar or enhance or day to day living.

Some folks will refer to themselves as postive or optimistic, while other as quick to confess they are "realists..." as if being one way or the other was a permanent characteristic!

The fact remains that we are all capable of changing our perception if we simply make the effort.

Take a Stand

The Big Stinky Dog is Inside

"A person can run for years but sooner or later he has to take a stand in the place which, for better or worse, he calls home, do what he can to change things there. "
~ Paule Marshall

On Holiday

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change... "

We realize this more during the holiday season--especially during the aftermath of the wild rush that is Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Interaction with in-laws and out-laws and relatives can wear you out. Everyone sleeps hard during the holidays... when they finally sleep.

The sleeping patterns of 5 individuals were made abundantly clear this season. Someone was up all the time, I think. Middle of the night trips to the kitchen or bathroom usually involved running into someone else who was either already up, getting up or going back to bed. It made for hot topics of conversation over coffee the next morning. We survived.

Adaptability is a virtue, indeed. My children have been blessed with this. They arrived suitcases in tow, to spend the holidays with their mother and this man she married 5 years ago. The house was quickly transformed into a "girly" house complete with the smells of scented lotions and the giggles and guffaws of two young women enthused over no work or school for a few days. Both pointed out that they were "on holiday."

I like the sound of that. The girls get but a small amount of time off and I am so proud they chose to spend it here. I think I'm most pleased by the comfort level they express in their day to day actions... here in an old house we have made home.

There's a level of respect we all have for one another and for the tight quarters we share over Christmas. An eyebrow may occasionally be raised, looks may pass between one or two--but no harsh words or opinions. I think we all realize we are what we are and we've got what we've got. This is family. What are you going to do with family?

You bend for family. You maintain a certain level of discretion. You let things slide and look at the bigger picture.

But most of all you love them unconditionally.

Happy Christmas!

They're Back

Time to practice all those daily meditations... the holidays are here.

We've shopped and cleaned, wrapped gifts and cooked, and cleaned again. But are really ready? On the outside maybe, but not mentally where it counts. We've kept ourselves really busy so we wouldn't have to think how well families blend, or how well blended families blend.

Just remember your manners. They'll save you every time. Its seems there is very little grief for people with manners. It may be because folks with manners realize there is a different type of behavior more appropriate for use in public places. My Jessica pointed this out last night at dinner.

"Why are you pointing?" she said over and over to me and my other half. I never realized how much I pointed... or how much my other half pointed. My eldest explained that pointing is an aggressive gesture and actually is quite rude. My, My! I certainly hadn't anticipated rudeness or aggression in my hand gestures.

I guess I had better work on that.

I am the Moon

I am The Moon

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.

The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

My Camera Died... and other suprises

I was beginning to think I had it all together... until yesterday.

Yesterday I took my mother Christmas shopping again. I don't remember if we went last week. But I did go shopping with my father last week.

Shopping with Pop is much quicker... almost manic. That's a man thing and he's a 72 year old man that's used to a regime... his.

I think his main intent on taking me was to pick out something for my mother. I bravely stood on the sidelines, encouraging him to make the final decision his own. I hope he understood this and will eventually be confident enough to admit he picked out the gift.

Which brings up an interesting point--when did buying gifts become such a problem? What happenend to the "thought" part? Granted, the best gifts are those that utterly delight the recipient, but we have all done that at some point in our lives... hopefully, many many times.

But now, all of a sudden, we second-guess ourselves to the point that we can't even make a damn decision. Often times, once we do, we still second-guess the decision, after the fact!

First off, a gift is just that--something one gives to another. How marvelous! Isn't it nice that someone thought enough of us to share? To go to the trouble of presenting us with something, expecting nothing in return but our gratitude? (Okay, I added the gratitude. That's a "me" thing.)

The bottom line is, the giver wants to make us smile. A gift is a token of appreciation and is not always a tangible item, either.

I try to follow one rule of thumb--to always give something I would genuinely appreciate myself.

Happily Ever After

My childhood was filled with marvelous fairy tales... tales of wonderful romantic meetings, trials and tribulations which ultimately led to "happily ever after." I've been accused of believing too much in the good, pristine side of things--so much so, that I fall pretty hard when reality presents itself. Perhaps.

But what I have found, is that we are all responsible for our own version of "happily ever after." There is no storyline to follow. We have to create our story and maneuver around all the dragons to get to that happy place. No shortcuts, no fairy godmothers. But sometimes a few magical things can happen.

If you stand up to the dragons, most often they will not devour you. If you have faith in you, if you continue to be you--as if by magic, the dragons will become smaller and smaller, until they are pretty much nonexistent.

How Clean Is Your Floor?

I've had two old friends resurface within the past 48 hours. The holidays are known for that. People get that "holiday cheer and good feeling" thing going and begin to try and figure out how to keep it going the whole year. Can't blame them for that.

It's tough to be nice all the time, though.

I blame a lot of my crankiness on hormones. Hell, I'm 3 or 4 years into menopause now. I understand it generally takes 5, so I'm optimistic--I think I can hang on. But I think the whole menopause thing is wearing on the fam...

I try to channel all those racing thoughts into positive energy, like scrubbing the kitchen floor.

So, a word to the wise: If my kitchen floor is clean, it's safe to come in.

Erma Saves the Day

Everything is fine... really fine.

I finally got the dreaded freezer defrosted... and partially restocked in anticipation of the holiday traffic. House still needs a good thorough cleaning, but I have been moving in 50 different directions with the sewing and the shopping and the partially done remodeling. (sigh)

I always say that life is a tradeoff. Why do I always forget it, too??

I know everything does not have to be perfect, but I strive for perfection anyway. Insanity, pure insanity.

After a rushed day Friday, my other half calls to say he's taking off early. I get home just 15 minutes or so ahead of him and put away the groceries. When he arrives he announces he'd like to have company for dinner. Of course, I totally flip out, because after all--the house is a wreck! We all know the bathroom should sparkle and the kitchen floor should be smooth as glass before you have company over. That's when I thought of Erma Bombeck.

One of the things she regretted during her last days was her lack of spontaneity. She said she wished she had worried less about grass stains and spent more time sitting in the grass.

"If I had my life to live over again I would have waxed less and listened more. I would have cried and laughed less while watching television . . . and more while watching real life. But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute of it . . . look at it and really see it . . . try it on . . . live it . . . exhaust it . . . and never give that minute back until there was nothing left of it. . . . "

Old Erma was pretty wise... I've decided I'm taking a cue from her this entire holiday season.

Merry, Ho Ho

Time for the mad rush which is Christmas.

My mother and I have started the weekly shopping trips. At 70 years old, she boasts of 14 grandchildren and 3 great-grandchildren and shops for every single one... along with their significant others. She's definitely "showing the love."

I'm still learning to love. I have a wonderful book of meditations I read every morning with the intention of getting my day off to the appropriate start. It reminds me of things I should already know, but find myself forgetting.

My Jessica made mention of one such point yesterday... Fear creates anger. Fussiness, being a grump, crankiness... whatever form it takes, often stems from something much deeper. Human nature often makes us reactive to anger, rather than taking the time to understand the source or the real problem. Being reactive, of course, just adds "fuel to the fire."

But, if we take the time to try and understand the fear associated with the anger, there won't be any brushfires to put out.

Don't Be A Turkey

Another Thanksgiving soon to be neatly tucked away for reference. By that, I mean the giggles, guffaws and war stories that accompany a day with the relatives.

This year I am sans my girls. I'll be spending Thanksgiving with the in-laws, just as I have for the past five years since I returned to Virginia. I should be tickled that I have not had to cook since I moved back--other than a side dish and my West Texas Fair prize-winning crescent rolls--but I like to cook and I miss the family time. But that's a different memory.

I've read that you can't fully enjoy the present, if you dwell on the past. The present is staring me in the face, so I've put the butter on the counter to soften in preparation for making crescent rolls before going to my mother-in-law's for breakfast.

I've had to really push to be able to bring anything. I think she still views me as that 15 year old girl that dated her youngest son... How could I possibly know how to cook anything?? Never mind the fact, that I spent 20 some odd years out of her view, raised two children and such! Funny how our perceptions are clouded sometimes. We see what we want to see.

Being fully aware of this little human flaw, I vow to make this dinner a genuine pleasure by taking the time to drop all preconceived notions of everyone and look at them all with a fresh perspective. Happy Thanksgiving!

Traditional Threads

The days are running together at a much faster rate with the holidays staring me right in the face. Nonetheless, I'm proud to say, a large portion of my holiday shopping is done. All that is left is my Christmas sewing. (Okay... and a few packages to wrap. A few more to buy. And the baking.) But I'm focusing on the sewing this week.

I've been collecting fabric all year so that each person on my sewing list will have the most appropriately wild pajamas.

I started making pajamas for the girls several years ago. In fact, when they were little, I made most of what they wore. As time went by, they'd accompany me to the fabric store and pick out their own patterns and fabric. Once they hit high school, however, about the only thing I sewed for them was pajamas and the occasional bathrobe.

But I think they'll have to agree that their "homemade" items were always one of a kind. I'd also like to think these unique fashions helped build their individualism... and encouraged them to not be like everyone else.

These days, I'm noticing they are a lot more like me. I told my Jenifer just the other day, that I hear my words coming out of her mouth (and her sister's) more often as of late. She thought it funny when I admitted sometimes I am proud, other times horrified.

It makes me think of something my other half often says: "Throw enough shit out there and something's bound to stick."

Almost Five

We're 48 hours or so "post apple butter" and my other half is still playing catch-up on his rest. Yes, the weekend was tiring and after all, he did spend more than his share of 15-plus hours stirring the kettle, as well as over-seeing the entire operation. I'm really pretty moved by his sense of commitment and respect for the "the old ways" of doing things. But then again, he is a country boy.

Spending time--so much time-- with two other couples this weekend, has afforded me the opportunity to realize, and really count my blessings.

My house is far from being remodeled, but its come a very long way. Judging from the reaction from my visitors this weekend, it must be looking a great deal better than I realize. I'm lucky that the other half is a quite accomplished finish carpenter and does--upon occasion--have the time to put in a few finishing touches.

When a few married women get together and start discussing all the quirky little details of daily living, one either agrees or is totally shocked. In some instances, I was surprised--but overall, very thankful that my other half and I communicate. We talk. Hell, we usually don't agree--except on the fact that we are in this together and the other person's feelings DO matter.
I'll share the story of how we ended up together sometime... I understand from those who have heard it that it is a classic tale of romance spanning some 30 years--and we'll be celebrating our 5th wedding anniversary this December. This is my third marriage (yes, third) and I might be getting better at this...

My oldest sister says "her picker is broke." She's married and divorced three times now. I feel sad for her. Not only because things haven't worked out for her... but because she has no one close, to share the good and the bad.

When I divorced my husband of 18 years, I was so sure I was through... No want, need or desire for another man in my life. I am thankful now that husband number 3 was persistent... that he convinced me that most things worth anything, are worth much more if you have someone to willing to share them with you.

109 Quarts Later...

The last jar was sealed and tucked under the thickest towels I could find at just before 10pm last night.

The "morning after" in this particular instance is all about rings, lids and sticky stuff. Although I must admit, the men were much neater that I had originally feared. And much more willing to do whatever was necessary to guarantee the success of this venture.

Actually, everyone was very even-tempered and helpful. Almost like they were all on valium or something. Okay, there was an occasional glass of wine... but really no more than a glass or two. And that was only after the work was done.

I was very impressed with the clean up efforts by the men. When I looked out into the backyard this morning, I wasn't horrified as I expected to be. The kettle had been rinsed and there weren't 85 million coffee cups or a hundred plates on the table under the awning.

The weekend went well. We re-connected with old friends, made some new ones, and have a lot of apple butter.

Apple Butter Anxiety

Tomorrow is the big day. Four eager workers and 12 bushels of apples will make war stories and 27 gallons of apple butter at my house this weekend.

My other half had made apple butter with his father over 25 years ago. His fond memories are what sparked this two-day event... that, and the fact that he inherited the old copper kettle and a "still in the box" peeler.

Seems making apple butter was an annual event at the church he attended as a child as well. He phoned several of the older women from the church this week to compare the recipe, as well as to gather some additional tips and techniques. Needless to say, he was more than a bit disappointed when he learned that nowadays they used apple sauce rather than go to the trouble of peeling apples. Wonder how many years they peeled before that decision was made?

I understand canning and making jelly. I remember shelling endless bags of peas with my mother and Granny. We'd all set up on the screen porch at Granny's and snap or shell until our thumps were sore. Pretty soon, the adults would become so engrossed in their conversation, they'd forget the children were even there. That's when the conversation would get interesting and my sisters and I would become quieter and more attentive. Ah, the gossip... I heard a lot on that porch that I didn't fully understand until much later in my life.

When I was living in Texas, I planted two pear trees when the girls were toddlers so I could make my own pear honey.
Once the tress began to bear fruit, my two daughters were drafted for the canning experience, as well as any unsuspecting friends. The first few years, everyone eagerly anticipated the event... eventually, helping with the pear honey was used as a bargaining tool for teenage girls. Soon thereafter, even neigborhood friends became suspiciously nonexistent the weekends we peeled pears and made pear honey.

One of the couples involved in our apple butter project actually hosted the last event over 25 years ago at their home. It's good to have some seasoned veterans.