The Other Family

Crazy. I think if you get to know a family well enough, we all have our special brands of crazy. I know my family does. And it was no different with GB's family. In fact, his family tend to wear THEIR crazy in plain view on their forehead-- kind of like the old cartoons of the kamakazi pilots with the white bandanna and the red dot.

The good news is that I got the official stamp of approval from just about everyone except the youngest brother, who clearly has trouble believing that anyone could like GB once they get to know him. The bad news is that after a while, I got the feeling that they all thought I was upper class or somehow better than GB and his family, and that is why they were so excited that he was dating me. Also, his dad seems to think it's my fault that GB is happier since moving out of Sacramento-- and he put responsibility for GB's continued happiness squarely on my shoulders as often as GB left the room.

I just don't think of myself as better or worse than others-- The competition I carry in my head is with myself. How can I improve? What can I do or contemplate or work on today that will make me a better person than I was before? Am I living up to my own standards? Also, I refuse to take responsibility for the happiness of others. Which is different from taking responsibility for how my actions or words affect others. Everything that is making GB happier than he was when he lived with them-- it's stuff he's accomplished or overcome or earned on his own merit.

But anyway, we spent time with the family-- which was the whole point of the trip-- and I totally fell in love with his Grandmother. And we saw some awesome natural wonders while we were at it. I got the scoop on main street, saw the locations of many an exciting moment in GB's personal history, and I met a few of the folks that pepper GB's stories about that same personal history. Hiked part of Horsetail Falls just west of Lake Tahoe. Visited the lake itself, including Emerald Bay which really is a beautiful shade of green.

Discovered that GB is a great roadtrip companion, and enjoyed every day of our trip until the last. I was pretty short on sleep, sore from hiking and all that driving we did, and well-- I was just basically grumpy on the drive back home. And I feel terrible whenever my grumpy comes out around other people-- and there we were, trapped together in a car or in my parents' living room (flying visit on the way north) from 7am until I got home around 10pm Friday night.
ARGH! But GB was very sweet about it. Which somehow made my grumpy worse.

And you know how it goes-- When you meet folks for the first time, you want to make a good impression and find reasons to like the people your companion likes. It wasn't until yesterday that I actually started to think about the trip and recognize my personal reaction to everything that had happened and everyone I'd met.

The upshot is that I actually appreciate and respect GB's intelligence, integrity, and compassion even more NOW than I did before-- because it's obvious he's worked hard and without much support-- or many role models-- to become the man he is today. And somehow, he just doesn't think that what he's accomplished or who/how he chooses to be in the world is anything wonderful or special. It's just the right thing to do, the right way to live. And I agree-- but I don't think many people today actually spend the time and energy it takes to live their lives to that standard.

Call me cynical if you want. Then spend three days in a town where everyone goes armed because picking fights is normal. A town where most folks grow or are addicted to something illegal, bigotry is rampant, and nobody can afford to stop working until they die because no matter how many lottery tickets they buy, they still don't have enough money to pay the bills, health care, or a retirement fund. Welcome to the home of the original California Gold Rush.

Here is a short list of things GB's various relatives liked about me:

• I carry a pocket knife.
• I like rodeos.
• I offered to help with the dishes.
• My dad uses the word "fart."
• I eat sushi (because they know GB does, and they think its weird).
• My ex-husband was in the Army.
  
• I don't put ice in my water.
• I understand the difference between a single action and a double action pistol.
  
• I'm still young enough to give them grandbabies.

Smashing

So the Family Reunion was a smashing success. And tomorrow-- or heck, maybe after I go to bed and get up again later this morning-- I'll tell you the story of the five-hour lunch we all had on Saturday. It was a bit like ... umm... well, actually I can't think of anything else like it.

As my best friend often reminds me, my family wrote the book on Crazy. The good news is that we all understand that loving someone (or many someones) is a choice-- and we all just keep on making that choice over and over again. Intentional insanity. I begin to suspect it's genetic. The same way that half of us is allergic to ground pepper. Blame Grampa Speck-- lord knows we all got it from him in the first place.

The Middle Child

So GB is a middle child. And my awesome cousin, KJ is a middle child... and they've had surprisingly similar childhood challenges. GB is convinced that this simply IS the middle child experience, and everybody should stop ignoring that fact-- the same way they ignore the middle child, dammmit. And he may have a point.

The oldest is the first one, and usually gets extra special everything, until the next child comes along anyway. More photos get taken of that child, more new clothing and "just for you" toys get purchased... But the second child usually gets the hand-me-downs. And any harsh rules generated by the first child's escapades. Then the third child comes along. The baby of the family.

I don't think this is always the case-- and I know the dynamics in four and five-child households are quite different... but it's been an interesting comparison to make. Especially in light of the number of my friends who are suddenly pregnant or trying to GET pregnant. I tell you, I've switched to bottled water just to be safe.

Delighted. Really.

Have I mentioned the upcoming family reunion yet? It's worthy of mention.

The good news is that my secret plan to shanghai my favorite cousins from the airport, and deliver them to the reunion location several hours later has been officialized by the committee in charge of officializing things.

The bad news is that in those several hours between airport and reunion location, I have now got to cris-cross a major city in search of passengers, find parking at the airport at rush hour on a Friday afternoon, drive a full car load of cousins and baggage to another town an hour or more away, in serious rush hour traffic, on a Friday, in order to celebrate another incoming family member's birthday with the WHOLE FRIGGEN CROWD at our usual celebratory restaurant. And then we drive to the reunion.

I hope they give us a private room at the restaurant. One with padded walls. We're going to be loud, crazy, totally disorganized, loud, and insanely hungry. All twenty or thirty of us. Just think-- my mom, and four of her siblings, and like seven mostly-adult female cousins who GREW UP IN THIS FAMILY TRADITION-- plus kids, boyfriends, husbands, and well, whoever else we accidentally sweep along in our rambunctious and way-too-friendly wake.

I'm sure I'll be keeping you posted on the reunion. OH, and did I mention that my mom's broken hand is healing okay? It is. Really.

Crashing Into Life

Well, I feel loved. Best thing to feel at this particular time of year, and I feel it. As a good old friend of my family would say, "Shight-Howdy, it's enough to make your big toes wiggle!"

And then we'd all laugh, and she'd look at us and say, "Haven't y'all heard that expression before??" As if WE are the weirdos. This year, my immediate family (me and the 'rents) decided to do JUST STOCKINGS, and look at our traditions to figure out which ones are actually special so we can pay more attention when we do them. And it was really one of the best Christmases we've had-- even Papa thought so.

We made Welsh Pasties (HEAVEN IS WAITING IN MY FREEZER!!!), and Ottonian Sour Cream Cookies (They aren't waiting because I already ate them. All of them.), and eggs on toast. I ran into another one of those situations (I run into these a lot) where two different phrases mean the exact same thing, but I didn't know that, and worked really hard to remember the ONE phrase, so when somebody used the OTHER PHRASE, I had no fugging clue what they were talking about. And how silly is that-- because it was the phrase, "fried eggs."

I mean, I've seen it. I always figured I wouldn't like it because I didn't know what it was. Tells you a lot about my relationship to food, doesn't it. My mom didn't cook those, she made me over-hard eggs in a frying pan, and scrambled eggs. But we don't fry ANYTHING in my family, so I KNEW I'd never had "fried eggs." I was actually shocked that my mom would offer me one-- and on Christmas morning, too!! ... And then she gave me that look. That "you've been drinking out of the stupid jar again, haven't you" look. The one that says she thinks I'm intentionally tormenting her by playing dumb, and she is really not happy with me about it.

I guess the good news is she thinks I'm smart enough to know that "fried eggs" are the eggs you cook in a frying pan-- you know, like over-hard eggs, for example. The bad news is, I really didn't know. You have to understand. When I was little, we didn't eat like everybody else, and mom cooked just about everything from scratch. I thought everybody had vegetarian tomato pasta sauce with beans in it. So she knew what I liked, and I knew what she cooked, and if she asked if I wanted eggs, I knew they'd be scrambled. Or she'd let me cut off the whites and just eat those, since I didn't like the yolks. Even when they weren't the consistency of weird yellow-orange mucus.

So then we'd go to a restaurant, and mom would have to translate everything on the menu for me. What sort of eggs are "over easy" eggs? Do I like those? What is French Toast? You mean it's that weird dry bread you coat with egg and then put syrup on? Eww! (FYI, my food repertoire of "likes" has grossly expanded since the time of which I write. I like food now.)

When, as a child, I got tired of trying to figure out egg-cooking-styles and trying to explain to the waitress what I wanted, I finally memorized two easy kinds of egg-cooking-styles that I KNEW I LIKED, and I KNEW THEY COULD COOK. And always since then, if we eat breakfast out, I ask for one of those. Eggs over-hard, or hard-scrambled. Because I'd learned that this is the most easily-understood restaurant term for the kind of eggs my mom cooked for me at home. And that is literally the extent of my egg-preparation-term repertoire. Oh, plus hardboiled. I know those from Easter. Then mom tells me --right there on Christmas morning-- that she's making "boiled eggs" for her and papa.

WTF?! Does she mean HARD boiled?? Is there any OTHER kind of boiled egg? I mean-- parents always yell at their kids for eating cookie dough with UNCOOKED EGGS in it, so... Is this another trick like the "fried eggs" situation?? sigh... I guess I must have ROLLED in stupid-juice without even noticing last night, because apparently I reek of it. Just look at her scrunched up face when I ask for clarification on THAT one!!

See, fancy literature and books about dragons rarely describe cooked eggs in both visual and restaurantees terms enough to picture what is what-- so eggs are not among the information and vocabulary and phrases that I gleaned from said "literature." I may have told my dad as a pre-pubescent teen that "my cup runeth over" when he gave me too much milk once-- and known both the literal and the poetic meanings of the phrase used... but what has THAT got to do with the price of EGGS?!

Ahem-- so anyway, I felt loved this holiday season. And I was able to hi-jack my friend's car with the walnut-studded tires and the cold weather engine starter and the eco-diesel green gas juice and all, and drive IT through the frozen and bumpy wasteland of insane Christmas-Eve highway drivers to my parents' house so I COULD bake cookies and pasties and eggs with them. It was wonderful.

I also got phone calls from several friends to make sure I arrived there safely, or was doing okay with all the insane snow we received. Can you believe we had a WHITE CHRISTMAS on the west coast? When has THAT happened before?! Even weirder than fried eggs, I tell you! And I'm about to head over to check my mail. There may be Christmas Cards I don't know about. It's been almost two weeks since I could get close enough to the post office to park my car and go in.

And then on Sunday, my extended West Coast Family all mustered together and celebrated, and shared "extended family love" with the little kids. It was the start of another great Christmas tradition that we all want to remember for next year, too. Not quite as grand as the ones we used to have back east (50 people, lots of excellent insanity), but still... And that reminds me-- I've got cheese in my backpack, and it really ought to be put in the fridge here soon.

Merry Everything, and many happy returns of it all to you and yours.
Or, as my family probably will say after they read about the eggs,
"Here's egg in your face!" Which I know is a quote, but have NO idea where it came from. And I'm actually okay with that. Really.

Heart-Friends

When we were little (especially if we were little in the '50's), we often immortalized our friendships by carving everybody's initials with a heart between-- S.B. -heart- R.O. or I heart Johnny, for example. It was a way of saying we loved someone-- they were a friend of our hearts. It was a hope that we would always have that loving connection in our life.

I have just returned from a retreat. I went there with a friend, I came back from there with many friends. Friends of my heart. It was a very intense process, and yet also very restful. I learned so much from the lessons that others shared with me while I was there-- and I was also able to facilitate the learning of others.

Our blood relatives and our "parents" are often chosen by biology or by someone else's decisions about marriage or responsibility. As children, we rarely have the opportunity to choose our family. Many of us are lucky. We have a parent, or maybe two, who really love us and wish the best for us and work hard to help us grow. Many of us cope instead with adults who hurt us, or who are hurt. As we mature, regardless of what came before, we learn to find folks we can trust outside of our original family.

Often, these people begin as friends, and then we realize that our bond is deeper than mere friendship. We share a connection that is truly special, truly magical. These people become our chosen family-- our "spiritual family," if you will. The folks who love us and who we love as if they have always been a part of our lives, as if they always will be. Understanding that we can create a support network that is stronger (and often stranger) than the family we were born into brings a special kind of freedom with it.

I deeply enjoyed the friendships and experiences of this past weekend. I look forward to our next meeting, whether at an organized retreat or at a local coffee shop. And I know that just because I don't hear from someone I really felt a moment of connection with-- it doesn't mean that I can't appreciate what that moment held. The time I spend with these special people is carved into my heart. Each meeting is a gift, and all the distance in between visits can never take that gift away from me.

As the old saying goes: Merry Meet, Merry Part, and Merry Meet Again.

ReconFiguring

I just love when I come up with a catchy title!!

Had an appointment to go play this morning-- wanted to have a good handle on where I'm at and how I feel about it before I went. About once every two months, I get together with the kids I used to nanny, and their mom, for a morning of activities that really take two attentive adults to pull off. This time, it was a HUGE PLAY STRUCTURE FORT THING with about six slides, lots of twisty turns, climbing opportunities, ropes, tunnels, ladders, HOLY CRAP this thing was cool!! OH-- and a nice swing set on the side. With two children under the age of four, you really do need an adult for each of them. Just to make sure they do okay on the stairs.

Mom always asks how my life is. Great people-- and I love catching up with the whole family whenever we can coordinate our schedules. But there it is. I chose to stop working for them. Eight months ago when I really put my job search into high gear. How is my life doing, now, really??

So I thought through it. I realized that if I'd actually gotten any of those distant library jobs, I would never have met the awesome group of folks who make up my primary social network just now. I would never have gotten into acupuncture (or... I don't THINK I would have...) and started healing my old neck injury. I would never have (again-- speculation) realized just how gifted a listener I can sometimes be... or turned it into my own business practice. I really thought I'd have to wait a few decades to put that aspiration into practice. BUT HERE I AM!!! And the biggest "oh. Hey!" of all? I would not still be around to recognize and cope with certain nameless family illnesses.

With all that in mind, I'm really glad that things have worked out the way they did. Granted, I'd now like to get a reliable source of income... but the awesome thing is that my perspective and knowledge of what that job might look like has expanded considerably, just in the last month. It may even be possible that more than one job exists out there that would benefit from MANY different aspects of my life experience, education, and training to date. And some of those jobs actually pay enough that I could live far far away, and fly home five or six times a year, without hocking my cat for collateral on a loan. I've been doing a bit of recon on that one...

Take Account Coordinating, for example. Here's a general job description:
Coordinates new and existing accounts, focusing on client satisfaction, revenue optimization, and account growth. Communicates with clients on a regular basis, providing support, marketing ideas, product updates, and reporting. Organizes advertising and coordinates scheduling and promotions to ensure client satisfaction and project completion. Assists Account Executives in maintaining and nurturing client relationships.

Supports account team in daily program management activities, such as media tracking, list building, Internet research, copy editing, crafting materials, coordinating scheduling and promotions, conducting pitch calls, developing data bases, implementing strategies and research projects, coordinating mailings, assembling press packets, training kits or other materials, and general office and client support. Participates in internal client brainstorming sessions by offering ideas for each project.

Makes recommendations to project lead on how to improve a project. Collaborates with project/team lead to effectively complete scope of work so that it is top quality but also within the terms of the contract. Assists in managing vendor relationships to ensure deliverables are produced accurately, on time, and within budget. Provides research, data consolidation, and recommendation development used to create internal reports, process documents, and/or industry trend reporting.

Serves as a liaison for the account team to marketing team members and the Corporate Communications Department for the dissemination of information. Executes strategies through writing, editing, proofreading, desktop publishing, and web content. Schedules client meetings and teleconferences for team and helps prepare materials for them. Coordinates event logistics. Represents organization at industry or skill specific meetings or conferences. Crafts audits that can be included in communications plans. Creates work plans, and meets project deadlines as set by team lead. Provides administrative support when necessary.

Now, take this description, and apply it to a company that promotes educational tools to schools, teachers, and students-- kindergarten through college. Does that NOT just put together every job I (or my entire extended family) have ever held, and allow me to do ALL the things I do best-- AT THE SAME TIME?! Even better, the low end of the pay scale starts at $50,000-- plus benefits. SHIT!!! Did they x-ray my LIFE before they wrote that or WHAT?!

Anyway, I'm excited that such a position exists, and that people who attain it are clearly appreciated for their contribution to the success of the team as a whole. THAT appeals to me. And, maybe, I'd be able to take enough time off to come home at regular intervals. To be and do here what I feel I must. To get hugs, get caught up, get fed, and stay in touch with all the wonderful people and places that I've come to love so well in the past eight months.

So far, when I finally got OUT of the hard times in my life, I realized that I'd gained in both opportunities and awarenesses-- parts of me that I would never have needed to uncover if life had been as easy as I'd hoped. With this new possibility (among others) on the horizon, it's easy to figure that maybe there's a beautiful silver lining to this "not-quite-employed" cloud I've been under for so long.

I'll keep you posted.

Growing Up

Everybody is growing up. I had dinner with my West-Coast family tonight. TE looks and acts like a professional lawyer-- she's wonderful. She's barely a year older than I am, too, and no longer new to her profession. Her baby is fussy and cute and 5 months old. Her oldest daughter is already more mature than last time I saw her. And taller. She's going to out-grow her mother yet, I think, and I worry that maybe she's not getting the love and careful attention her needy and dramatic little soul needs sometimes. She sure likes to shop.

My parents are older, too. They squint and help each other remember things. It's been a long time since Uncle R has changed his own babies' diapers... and here he is, at it again with grandchild number four. I guess I'm growing up, too, in a way. Learning to navigate between my old fears and my new possibilities. Learning to take intelligent emotional risks, and learning to let my body rest when I am tired.

I even got a great fortune cookie after dinner tonight-- Use your abilities at this time to stay focused on your goal. You will succeed. I don't know who wrote it, but I sure did need to hear it. I have a picture of an abundant life-- my abundant life-- in my head. Sometimes I feel it's within easy reach, and sometimes it doesn't matter how far or how thin I stretch myself, my goals remain very far away. Funny to realize that how little adults really know and control in real life.

I guess that's a learning process, too. And I'm okay with that. I think I've come a long way in the last four years, and I'm proud of me. I just want a library job... and these days, I feel that it'd be nice to have one fairly close to home-- and in an academic library or vendor service. I'd like to be financially self-sufficient, and emotionally come from a place of strength. Right now, I'm just tired. So tired I'm actually emotionally numb, and my shoulder/neck is hurting in a way it hasn't for weeks now.

I know part of that is the way I've spent the last several days-- scrambling to pull an interview together, catching up on all my web-based commitments. There was a huge day of family and their friends, with hard news about an illness of someone dear to me in the midst of the festivities, and a concert on the lawn. My Saturday ended after midnight, and I was tired and raw from navigating it all. Excited about Sunday, but nervous, too. Dating seems to have much higher emotional risks than friending ever has.

Sunday was a very good day. Longer than I'd expected, I was on my feet for nearly seven hours straight, and having good conversation with a new friend. I think we're dating, but I'm not really sure. I hope that conversation will come as easily as all the other talk has so far... It was a real success to be relaxed and not let my fears about my own shigt intrude-- for a whole day of one-on-one time with someone whose opinion of me I really value. I can't pretend the shigt isn't there... but I can decide how I'm going to act when I recognize it. And maybe... maybe this guy with so many other amazingly great qualities will be great about my shigt, too. I'd like that.

I stayed up late again, trying to work things out in my head. Trying to separate old nasties from new realities. Trying to figure out what had actually happened, what I was told had happened, and what I want to have happen next. The first person I need to be clear and honest with is me, after all. So, exhausted again, I fell into bed after midnight on Sunday.

Monday itself has been a blur of running errands, finishing web responsibilities, making the long drive to family dinner (arriving 45 minutes early, only to find that nobody'd called for a reservation) and back home again... And I realize I will sleep tonight. I'm exhausted both in body and in mind. I need time to process all I've done and felt and thought and seen and heard. I have more errands to run, and breakfast with a very dear friend in the morning-- somewhere near 23rd. Somewhere. Then there's work to do, and I'd really like to sort and stash everything from that nasty lump of crap in the middle of my floor tomorrow. It's time.

Balancing my own needs and the responsibilities and desires I feel (including the desire to make everyone around me happy, too) is yet another aspect of growing up. One I'm still working to achieve in a healthy and balanced way. I'll get there... but it may take a while longer. I'm not all THAT grown up yet, and my birthday is coming. Time enough to figure things out when I'm 3o. Right?

...let's see... that gives me a whole three weeks to bumble around in the dark here... give or take.

Finding Time

This is actually a post about Yoga. Maybe I'm just talking about how hard it is to take time out of my day for me... and how I connect that with being female in this time and place. Maybe it's something else all together. As I wrote it, the post just kept getting longer and longer... I think I'm worried that I didn't share this lesson well enough, or that I'm talking to people who only exist in my head... I'm worried that I will sound pitiful, or worse-- preachy... I sometimes think that we, as women, often have too hard a time recognizing our own wisdom and our own worth... So I'm not going to cut this one down to a more manageable size. I think it's important. Whatever it is.

See, there's this list of "someday" goals in my head. The ones I never do find time to commit to-- ones that don't put food on the table, a roof over my head, and don't benefit anyone but me. This is where I keep my desires like spending a whole week at a bed-and-breakfast on the beach, instead of using my vacation time and money on a trip to Michigan with my family every year... The list that has my wish to learn how to make bread-- good old hearty nutty flavorful bread. My desire for a gym membership ended up on this list, too. With a limited income, a weekly lunch with the people I love is just more important, for the price. And I still haven't found energy or supplies to build that Navajo Loom I want to play with-- nor research what kind of string I'd need to warp it with. Come to think of it-- when would I have time?

I'm not willing to give up my sleep-- the whole "get up 30 minutes earlier" plan just sounds like a way to substitute one healthy thing for another when I hear it. Less sleep, but more exercise... is that really helping me? Or less sleep but more time to write, more time to meditate, more time for a walk every day, more time to fix a healthy lunch before I go to work-- Suddenly I wonder if I shouldn't just be staying up all night to find the extra time I want for ALL the things I want to enjoy in my day!

So I'm not going to give up sleep to improve my life. That's an oxymoron waiting to happen. But I do want to include more good stuff in the time that I'm awake (and fewer morons). Maybe I don't need as much time checking email before I start my day. Maybe I don't need as much time watching movies to unwind at night before bed. Maybe I need to start out slowly. Maybe I already have.

I found a book on Yoga-- it has a 5-minute routine in it. And once I made time for five minutes of yoga in my morning prep... it wasn't so hard to move up to the 15-minute version the book also offers. Heck! I might eventually work my way up to the 90-minute yoga routine the book includes before the year is gone! And I found a book called Gardener's Yoga, by Veronica D'Orazio (Sasquatch Books, 2006). I'm actually giving this one to my mom for her birthday. I think it will suit her, so don't you go telling her about it first!

The book is split into three sections. The first section is a preparation for working the earth, and coincidentally contains about ten minutes of "getting started" Yoga poses. The second section is another ten minutes of Yoga, this time geared toward stretching out the kinks that come from all that weeding and squatting down. The last ten minute section is for the end of the day, to help your body relax after hard work. I love how well the poses flow into one another, and I love how well they are integrated into the seasons and the phases of the garden.

I've realized that the hard part about taking care of me has always been getting started. I've had trouble committing myself to spending large chunks of my time doing selfish things. And in my head, I thought of the things I want to do just for me-- like Yoga and writing and meditating and weaving... I've thought of them as a selfish way to spend my time. But on the days I do them, I'm a better worker at my day job, and I grow stronger as a person. I feel healthy, and I have more patience with the world. So for now, I may only spend ten minutes doing Yoga in the morning, but I'm learning to feel good about that. I see it as a foundation for more good things to grow from. I'm learning that taking good care of me has a good impact on the people around me, too. It's not wrong to love and care for myself. In fact, nobody else can do it better.

Maybe I didn't have to find the time so much as I had to convince myself that I am worth spending quality time on. ...And that I don't have to start doing it all at once. I certainly didn't learn that one from my mother, or my ex. In fact, most women I know have a very hard time (there's that word again!!) doing things for themselves in a consistent way, or having the things they do accepted by their partners as worth the time. There's always something more important they could be doing. But here's the challenge-- if YOU don't think you're important (if you don't think your NEEDS are important), nobody else will either. And that is wrong. You are important. Worth doing good things for.

I don't mean the extra chocolate bar when you've had a bad day... (well, not JUST that!) I mean that 20 minutes of uninterrupted meditation in a quiet room every night so you can sleep comfortably. I mean that hour on the phone with your family or your best friend who moved away five years ago-- every weekend, without trying to multi-task while you talk. I mean the five minutes you spend standing still to enjoy the beauty of a tree, and just BREATHE for a minute, as you rush between buildings, meetings, and soccer practice every afternoon. I mean that 10 minutes I'm spending on my Yoga every morning before work, and the effort it takes to keep a clean spot on the floor big enough to do it in. I mean refusing to stay up that extra half an hour at night to get everyone else ready for the next day-- while they sleep.

Somehow, we've learned that the job must be done right, and we're the only ones who can do the job that way. Somehow, we've agreed to take on the responsibility for the success or failure of every dream our family (even our society) has-- without including our dreams on the list. We take the leftovers. We take the hand-me-down computer. We don't ask for someone to do their share of the chores-- we ask them to help us out a little with the chores we do. We make the kids' lunch and work a 60 hour week. We scrimp and save our pennies so someone else can have their heart's desire. Someone who already spent their pennies on something frivolous and fun.

I don't mean to dishonor our sacrifices, and I know this isn't everyone's reality. I actually hold a great respect for the importance of compassion, of love. But that's just it. Compassion, Love, long-term planning, Sharing and Giving are IMPORTANT, and WORTHY OF RESPECT. And another thing I've learned-- from my own life and from watching those I love-- is that if we continue to give and give without ever replenishing ourselves, we burn out, and we eventually have nothing left to give to anyone.

So-- please-- make a difference in your own quality of life, long-term. Like ten minutes of Yoga before breakfast, or ten minutes of solitude before bed. Now that I've learned how to find the time, I am determined not to lose it again. I want to enjoy my life. I want to experience abundance so that I can share it whole-heartedly, without running dry. I want to honor the Goddess by honoring myself, and the women around me. I'm worth it. She's worth it. You're worth it. Slow down, and give yourself time to recharge.

I want to be my best self in this lifetime, and that means loving myself just as much as I love everyone else. That means it's okay to put my own needs first. To ensure that I have the strength and endurance to be there when others need me. It's okay to teach by my example that compassion and respect belong to everyone, not just an exclusive few who feel they have the right to receive it.

So... What will you find time for today?... what about tomorrow?

TTYL

I got a call from my mom yesterday, a little after 4pm. She and some other favorite family of mine were planning to meet for dinner at 6-- in a restaurant about an hour's drive away. Could I make it?

It turns out that doing my dirty stinky dishes wasn't as important as visiting with my folks after their trip to Michigan for my cousin's wedding-- and getting to see my aunt who is slowly dying from breagst cancer in her bones, and her husband, my favorite uncle. So I went. And it was really good to be there. But it was also strange. It seems that spring is the season of divorce. Between them, they knew of at least five couples going through separation and/or divorce just now. I added another to the list. And they treated me like an equal when I talked to them about realizing that there's this pattern that many of us seem to follow in a divorce: We immediately get struck with this need to date-- to prove that we're desirable and that we're wanted. We'll date just about ANYBODY in this phase of things, if they show an interest.

And, strangely, we often go out with people who are very similar to the one we just divorced. At this stage, we either seem to get so stuck on the need to have SOMEBODY in our lives that we get married again-- to someone just as bad for us-- or we realize that we DON'T want to end up with the same old problems in yet another new relationship. And we withdraw from dating for a while-- until we can figure out who we are when we stand by ourselves, and where we actually stand. Figure out what about ME needs to change before I try to be an us again, and set some damn high standards for the next person I allow into my life on such an intimate level. Realize that if someone who meets or exceeds those standards doesn't come along, I'd be happier alone.

It felt like a warm hug that my family could understand, and respect that awareness-- and maybe worry less about my not dating yet. Even after two years of being divorced. I just haven't met anyone that seemed worth the effort yet. And I won't accept the kind of unhealthy unhappy unequal relationship I had before-- not now. Not ever. (Knock on wood.)

And it was nice to stand around talking with everyone in the parking lot after dinner. My uncle hadn't seen my new car (post-accident in December) yet, and really liked what he saw. My mom and dad enjoyed hearing about my booth at the Spring Fair (Pagan Faire) last month, and telling me how they laughed about my blog post (I write for a library magazine) that explained my revelation that "I am not Cinderella." And we had a good talk about how life is supposed to be hard, and it's that way for everyone. How it does take a while to get established on your own, and how nice it is to have family there with you while you take those first steps into the real world. Or even your fifth or sixth step.

For all my complaints, I do love my family. It was nice to have some special time with them last night. Now, I just have to find the will-power to do my dishes on this warm sunny morning, when all I really want to do is go for a hike and read brain-candy books on the back porch!