I feel so lucky to be dating a man who actually asks ME to go Christmas shopping with HIM. And who is secure enough (and loves his niece enough) to spend a whole 20 minutes in the pink-and-girly plastic-toys-with-hair aisle at a large and busy store on a Friday Night while we agonize over which MyLittlePony is the right one to give a well-loved four-year-old. And then he bought her two.
Also, there are three cats snoozing on my bed right now. Mostly because I turned the heater on in my room, and cats like to be warm. The grey boys are all curled up together in a ball on one end, and Abbigale rests in majesty on her heated pet-pad with the flannel pillowcase on it (washable) at the other end. And there is a bit of half-hearted eyes-closed paw-licking going on, which is the very best kind, except when they take turns cleaning each other's faces.
AND I think I've nearly gotten my monthly expenses for the new year down to something that one might actually be able to pay with a part-time or lower-wage job. It gives me options. And hope. And if I DO get a job that actually pays me what I'm worth-- then I'll be able to pay off all those darn debts THAT MUCH FASTER!! Which is a very exciting possibility.
Why is it that Christmas has become a time of death-gripping our concentration on money, of all things?! I find that appalling. I also recently found my "just-in-case" box of little gifts I picked up here and there over the past three years because I thought somebody might like them. And that box is saving my bacon this Christmas. YAY for being so excited about giving that I randomly buy maybe someone would like this gifts, and then store them until a time when I have no money and lots of people who need to know I love them. YAY!!! (and if you don't get a little gifty from me this year, know I still love you anyway...)
And the best news of the season? When I move in with GB, I'll get to bring most of my kitchen gear with me. And he'll treat it with the same careful respect he treats HIS stuff. I can't wait to have access to my kitchen gear again!! YAY!
And finally? I'm in the midst of the second step of the three-step process one goes through to make their book ready for publication. THE SECOND STEP, PEOPLE. As soon as I've gotten a solid 50 pages-- the first 50 pages-- ready to go, I can start applying for agents again. AND EVEN EXPECT TO GET ONE. It's going to be so awesome to finally see this book in print.
Well, 2009 was the Year of Integration. I wonder what 2010 will bring. I hope it's the year I get solid in my career. That'd be nice. Or maybe it'll be the year of being Centered and Balanced. Or the year of fruitful beginnings? I like fruit. Especially apples and dried bananas.
Seasonal Sustenance. What's in YOUR stocking this year??
Saturday, December 19
Tuesday, December 15
Chaos
Back in middle school, I used to think that the word people said that was "kay-oss" was a totally different word-- with the same meaning-- from the written word "chaos," which I thought you said "ca-hoos." Everybody has a story about a word they mispronounced for years without knowing it. This is mine.
Fitting that it happened with that word, in middle school. That was such a chaotic time, really. And now? ...Now is also a rather chaotic time...
Fitting that it happened with that word, in middle school. That was such a chaotic time, really. And now? ...Now is also a rather chaotic time...
Saturday, December 12
Jobberwhacky
So I'm applying for jobs. And after applying for jobs on and off non-stop over the past oh... FOUR YEARS... I'm kinda burned out on the whole job application thing.
But there's this guy whose specialty is helping folks get their careers going, and he has an awesome website that should give me some great tips to make me more successful this time around. And there's this job that just came open and sounds really perfect-- It's for a Communications Consultant at a local Community College. I'm so good at communicating, it's fugging AWESOME. And the application (all fifteen plus pages of it, including the short paragraph answers to each of eight different "describe this about your experience and training" questions) is due on Monday. Today is Saturday.
So I really need to get going on this. I want a job that keeps me excited and challenged, and that pays an actual living wage. I keep putting off applying for the housecleaning jobs because somehow, I really want a job that pays more than $10 an hour. Maybe my ego is getting in the way of my actually finding a job and working it again... but you know? I have a Master's Degree. And half of another Master's Degree. And I just came off six months of being the Executive Coordinator for a three-prong work project. Successfully. I deserve a high-paying high-responsibility job. I'd do well in a job like that, even.
Mostly, though, I know how hard it is to force myself out of bed every morning when I'm getting up for a job I don't like. And how hard it is to do a quality job on any daily tasks that I know your random stranger off the street could do just as well.
(insert brief pause and complete loss of mental track HERE when I am called to find housemate's keys, since I was the last one to see them-- when I pulled them from the outside door lock upon my return home this afternoon)
In other news, GB and I are discussing the logistics of moving in together. The most complicated bits seem to be internet access for yet another computer, and the fact that his housemate has two troublemaking teenage girl kitties, and I have one crochety declawed matronly girl kitty. And if we confine Abbigale strictly to his bedroom where they are not allowed, how will we keep her cat food away from the dog, while still making sure SHE can reach it, since she has arthritis and can't do a lot of jumping-- and the dog is rather tall. I think we'll figure out the whole computer thing. After all, GB used to set up cable systems for a living.
And, in the meantime, wish me luck on the job front. Again.
But there's this guy whose specialty is helping folks get their careers going, and he has an awesome website that should give me some great tips to make me more successful this time around. And there's this job that just came open and sounds really perfect-- It's for a Communications Consultant at a local Community College. I'm so good at communicating, it's fugging AWESOME. And the application (all fifteen plus pages of it, including the short paragraph answers to each of eight different "describe this about your experience and training" questions) is due on Monday. Today is Saturday.
So I really need to get going on this. I want a job that keeps me excited and challenged, and that pays an actual living wage. I keep putting off applying for the housecleaning jobs because somehow, I really want a job that pays more than $10 an hour. Maybe my ego is getting in the way of my actually finding a job and working it again... but you know? I have a Master's Degree. And half of another Master's Degree. And I just came off six months of being the Executive Coordinator for a three-prong work project. Successfully. I deserve a high-paying high-responsibility job. I'd do well in a job like that, even.
Mostly, though, I know how hard it is to force myself out of bed every morning when I'm getting up for a job I don't like. And how hard it is to do a quality job on any daily tasks that I know your random stranger off the street could do just as well.
(insert brief pause and complete loss of mental track HERE when I am called to find housemate's keys, since I was the last one to see them-- when I pulled them from the outside door lock upon my return home this afternoon)
In other news, GB and I are discussing the logistics of moving in together. The most complicated bits seem to be internet access for yet another computer, and the fact that his housemate has two troublemaking teenage girl kitties, and I have one crochety declawed matronly girl kitty. And if we confine Abbigale strictly to his bedroom where they are not allowed, how will we keep her cat food away from the dog, while still making sure SHE can reach it, since she has arthritis and can't do a lot of jumping-- and the dog is rather tall. I think we'll figure out the whole computer thing. After all, GB used to set up cable systems for a living.
And, in the meantime, wish me luck on the job front. Again.
Sunday, December 6
Purity Made Simple
I have a huge box of expensive face soap from Nordstrom. It's been sitting in my "extra toiletries" container for a year now, mostly because as soon as I invested in the 32-oz bottle, the darn soap stopped working on my acne. But I spent a lot of time and money making sure I had a great face soap, so I really don't want to throw it out. Even though I can't use it. Of course, these things are cyclical. I might be able to use it in another month or two. You never know.
I'm having similar experiences with many parts of my life just now. For example, as soon as I announced that I actually had full time employment with the Foundation/Farm... they ran out of money to pay me. But I spent a lot of time, energy, and gas money making sure the Foundation and Farm were as functional as I could make them, and investing myself in the visions and goals they espoused. So even though they can't pay me, I'm having a hard time letting go. And you never know-- they might be able to pay me again in a few months...
The face soap says "We come into this world with all the right instincts... and the world at large is truly beautiful. It is at this time we feel most blessed." To return to this natural state of instinctual well-being, the soap insists that "we must begin with the most basic step of all, the daily ritual of cleaning."
So here I am. Going through everything I own and figuring out what is dirty or just taking up space and energy without giving me any bliss in return. Cleaning up my life, a little bit at a time. I'm also job-hunting... again... and figuring out where I'll live come January. Because I can't afford the rent where I'm living now-- even if I do get another job. I have to use the bulk of my money paying off all the debts I racked up while I failed to make ends meet over the past four years. So a huge part of my process is cleaning up and simplifying my finances. Seeing a debt counselor. Talking about bangkruptcy. Finding ways to pay the people who can't wait.
The blessing that keeps showing up in my life is my friends. I feel so supported and loved. Over and over again, as my situation bounces up and down over and over again. It's amazing how many truly awesome people I know. And I don't think I'd have understood that (or had the same list of friends) four years ago when I thought the world was going to be my oyster.
The books have been the toughest thing to winnow down. And I know I'm not done yet. The first thing I did was decide I can only afford the space for one bookshelf right now. So all the books I'm going to keep with me, and all the things that sit on a surface and take up space, have to fit on that one bookshelf.
As I weighed the value of each book, and the space it fills in my life vs the space available on that one bookshelf, I realized that I don't re-read quite as many books as I like to think I do. Mostly, I think of many of these books as old friends, and it makes me feel good to see them sitting on the shelf because I found them so useful at one time. A bit like my face soap, really. So I keep them around just in case things change and I have a use for them again.
But at this point, the universe has hit me over the head hard enough that I not only suspect, but I KNOW that I have got to slim down and severely limit all the superfluous drains on my time, energy, and space. All the things that make me feel stuck or overburdened when it comes time to pick up and go yet again. I will probably rent a storage room for the things I know I will never be able to replace-- like the bed frame my parents slept in for 30 years, the bookshelf my dad made for me, and the boxes of books that I will actually consult occasionally, but don't need to lug from spare bedroom to spare bedroom over the next six months. I will probably sell or dump a lot of my extra toiletries-- things like that darn 32 ounces of soap that have been sitting around for the past year without ever actually being useful.
As part of the plan (while also applying for jobs daily), I'm going to consolidate everything into my room in preparation for the next big move. I'd like to know exactly what I own-- and right now there are boxes I haven't had the opportunity to open in over two years. It's a strange space to be in, knowing that if I had a reliable job and my own tiny apartment, I already own everything I'd need to be happy there... And finally admitting that just I don't have that, and may not have that for a while longer. Having to ask myself which of those beloved-but-currently-useless items are worth the cost (financial and energetic) of keeping.
I've come to realize that there are a few specific things that really contribute to my sense of contentment in a given living situation. One of those things is having and using my own kitchen gear. Another is having a workspace/desk that nobody else messes with. And being able to trust that my cat is safe, comfortable, and content whether I'm home watching out for her during the day or not. As I begin to condense both my living space and my finances, I also realize that there are two support systems that I need to KNOW I can always pay for-- my cat, and my cell phone. Abbigale cannot be replaced by other people's cats-- not the way I can use the computer in the library (which would still suck), or eat at a friend's table from time to time.
So here we are. Simplifying. Cleaning up old messes. Going back to basics. Realizing that while I prefer contact lenses, my glasses work just fine. Learning that "food stamps" are now referred to as the "SNAP" program. And they give you a credit card instead of a coupon book. Stocking up on rice and lentils because they are cheap and filling, and toilet paper because you can't buy that with the SNAP card. The times they are a-changing. I wonder how much money I wasted on that Nordstrom soap...
I'm having similar experiences with many parts of my life just now. For example, as soon as I announced that I actually had full time employment with the Foundation/Farm... they ran out of money to pay me. But I spent a lot of time, energy, and gas money making sure the Foundation and Farm were as functional as I could make them, and investing myself in the visions and goals they espoused. So even though they can't pay me, I'm having a hard time letting go. And you never know-- they might be able to pay me again in a few months...
The face soap says "We come into this world with all the right instincts... and the world at large is truly beautiful. It is at this time we feel most blessed." To return to this natural state of instinctual well-being, the soap insists that "we must begin with the most basic step of all, the daily ritual of cleaning."
So here I am. Going through everything I own and figuring out what is dirty or just taking up space and energy without giving me any bliss in return. Cleaning up my life, a little bit at a time. I'm also job-hunting... again... and figuring out where I'll live come January. Because I can't afford the rent where I'm living now-- even if I do get another job. I have to use the bulk of my money paying off all the debts I racked up while I failed to make ends meet over the past four years. So a huge part of my process is cleaning up and simplifying my finances. Seeing a debt counselor. Talking about bangkruptcy. Finding ways to pay the people who can't wait.
The blessing that keeps showing up in my life is my friends. I feel so supported and loved. Over and over again, as my situation bounces up and down over and over again. It's amazing how many truly awesome people I know. And I don't think I'd have understood that (or had the same list of friends) four years ago when I thought the world was going to be my oyster.
The books have been the toughest thing to winnow down. And I know I'm not done yet. The first thing I did was decide I can only afford the space for one bookshelf right now. So all the books I'm going to keep with me, and all the things that sit on a surface and take up space, have to fit on that one bookshelf.
As I weighed the value of each book, and the space it fills in my life vs the space available on that one bookshelf, I realized that I don't re-read quite as many books as I like to think I do. Mostly, I think of many of these books as old friends, and it makes me feel good to see them sitting on the shelf because I found them so useful at one time. A bit like my face soap, really. So I keep them around just in case things change and I have a use for them again.
But at this point, the universe has hit me over the head hard enough that I not only suspect, but I KNOW that I have got to slim down and severely limit all the superfluous drains on my time, energy, and space. All the things that make me feel stuck or overburdened when it comes time to pick up and go yet again. I will probably rent a storage room for the things I know I will never be able to replace-- like the bed frame my parents slept in for 30 years, the bookshelf my dad made for me, and the boxes of books that I will actually consult occasionally, but don't need to lug from spare bedroom to spare bedroom over the next six months. I will probably sell or dump a lot of my extra toiletries-- things like that darn 32 ounces of soap that have been sitting around for the past year without ever actually being useful.
As part of the plan (while also applying for jobs daily), I'm going to consolidate everything into my room in preparation for the next big move. I'd like to know exactly what I own-- and right now there are boxes I haven't had the opportunity to open in over two years. It's a strange space to be in, knowing that if I had a reliable job and my own tiny apartment, I already own everything I'd need to be happy there... And finally admitting that just I don't have that, and may not have that for a while longer. Having to ask myself which of those beloved-but-currently-useless items are worth the cost (financial and energetic) of keeping.
I've come to realize that there are a few specific things that really contribute to my sense of contentment in a given living situation. One of those things is having and using my own kitchen gear. Another is having a workspace/desk that nobody else messes with. And being able to trust that my cat is safe, comfortable, and content whether I'm home watching out for her during the day or not. As I begin to condense both my living space and my finances, I also realize that there are two support systems that I need to KNOW I can always pay for-- my cat, and my cell phone. Abbigale cannot be replaced by other people's cats-- not the way I can use the computer in the library (which would still suck), or eat at a friend's table from time to time.
So here we are. Simplifying. Cleaning up old messes. Going back to basics. Realizing that while I prefer contact lenses, my glasses work just fine. Learning that "food stamps" are now referred to as the "SNAP" program. And they give you a credit card instead of a coupon book. Stocking up on rice and lentils because they are cheap and filling, and toilet paper because you can't buy that with the SNAP card. The times they are a-changing. I wonder how much money I wasted on that Nordstrom soap...
Sunday, October 11
Granted
Last week was interesting. I feel confident that I can say YES-- I have a full time job now. I'm not so confident that I'll have it much longer if we don't find a way for the farm to produce some serious income in the middle of winter.
Technically, I'm the "Executive Coordinator" for the Farm, the Foundation, the Education programming that comes out of both, and to some degree also for the farm Community and Household. I asked the head of our Foundation Education Committee to look over the job descriptions that the three of us fleshed out for future reference, having filled in the details of what currently rests on my shoulders, and she said it was a perfect recipe for burnout. I agree.
Last week, I finally struggled through the last three days of writing and submitting a grant to the ubs govgt. The grant that may, in twelve months, pay for me to actually preserve, digitize, and web-ize the Foundation's Archive. You know, that job I was originally actually HIRED FOR six months ago. It's the first grant proposal I've ever written.
And boy-howdy was it a learning experience for the first one to be a govgt one! Before I could access the application packet, I had to apply for a DUNS number. And before I could apply for a DUNS number, there were one or two OTHER applications and passwords I had to request. Each of which took between 2 days and a week to get. And you can't skip steps.
Then, on the two days I'd set aside to write the grant, we first spent all day interviewing and meeting about our new Farm Manager (thank you god, she's on board for at least the next three months). The second day I spent doing last minute preparations for the Foundation Appreciation Dinner, and having conversations with my two team mates about the structure of our jobs so that I could, in fact, get on with my job without interference from She-Rex. Who-- I want to acknowledge-- is a vital and incredibly committed member of the team. I'm glad she's there. I just don't want her interfacing with clients. She has a tendency to make them run away.
So I set aside a day to work from home. And I did work from home all that day, but not on the grant. So I worked off the record the next day and a half-- on the grant. And I worked a full day (minus the two hours I spent meeting with the team because SR needed to make decisions about something that won't happen until next Spring) the day before the grant was due on pulling together the final application materials and the budget, and getting signatures where they were needed.
The day the application was due, my day off, I discovered that there was an ADDITIONAL APPLICATION FORM that was only available online, and that my computer operating system was too old to let me open. And then I spent the day at GB's house on HIS computer, swearing and filling out forms online. Then I discovered that the Budget Form (which is on a different website from the application form and application download site) can only be filled out online, and can't be saved once you fill it out, and has to be uploaded to the application download site, which you can only do if it's saved to your computer. AAAAAAARRRGHH!
I over came that hurdle, and got all the way to the place where you finally get to hit SUBMIT... only to discover that one must have a login and password to submit anything. WTF?
So I tried the first login and password I'd had to sign up for waaay back when I was applying for the fricken DUNS number. And was told no, that's wrong, and you have two more tries before we lock you and your application out of our system. Shit.
So I tried the second login and password I'd had to sign up for waay back when I was trying to get signed up to apply for this fricken grant. And was told, no, that's wrong, and you have one more try. Neener Neener Poopoo Head.
Okay.
So I called the govgt grant offices at 6:15pm Eastern Time for help, and SOMEONE HELPED ME!!!! She told me how to sign up for the login that lets you actually submit the grant application. And she stayed on the phone with me while I did it. And it only took two minutes instead of two weeks. And then I submitted my grant proposal, with three hours to spare before the deadline.
OMFG!!!
That was Tuesday. On Wednesday, I worked. On Thursday, I did accounts and worked and prepped for the Teacher Fair on Friday that I had a booth at, and organized a couple of new orders for our Big City Contingent of Dairy Buyers.
On Friday, I spent all day at the Teacher Fair, getting us tons of potential new Education Field-Trip Clients, and networking with other museums and historical sites in the area.
On Saturday, my one day off this weekend, I got an email that totally blew all my work with the Dairy Contingent out of the water, and basically put me in a position where the Dairy Contingent will probably not want to work with me because they don't think I know what I'm talking about. It was an email sent by my boss to me, the dairy contingent, and SR. I still don't know why SR got the email, as she's made it clear she wants nothing further to do with the dairy or the goats.
So I sent a not-happy email to my boss, explaining the effect of her email on my ability to help her with the Dairy Orders in the foreseeable future. Hard to help when nobody believes a word you say, non? And then I spent the rest of the day trying to pack and sort some of my stuff, and cleaning house, because it needs it.
Today, Sunday, I go to work again. We have a Foundation Board Meeting, and I have to arrive early so that I can prepare the materials and reports necessary for that meeting, and find out if I still have a job after the email I sent my boss.
Talk about your recipe for burn out! ...sigh... And I really love my work and this farm. So I really hope we overcome some of these challenges soon.
Well, that's all from Lake Woebegone this week, where all the women are strong, the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.
Technically, I'm the "Executive Coordinator" for the Farm, the Foundation, the Education programming that comes out of both, and to some degree also for the farm Community and Household. I asked the head of our Foundation Education Committee to look over the job descriptions that the three of us fleshed out for future reference, having filled in the details of what currently rests on my shoulders, and she said it was a perfect recipe for burnout. I agree.
Last week, I finally struggled through the last three days of writing and submitting a grant to the ubs govgt. The grant that may, in twelve months, pay for me to actually preserve, digitize, and web-ize the Foundation's Archive. You know, that job I was originally actually HIRED FOR six months ago. It's the first grant proposal I've ever written.
And boy-howdy was it a learning experience for the first one to be a govgt one! Before I could access the application packet, I had to apply for a DUNS number. And before I could apply for a DUNS number, there were one or two OTHER applications and passwords I had to request. Each of which took between 2 days and a week to get. And you can't skip steps.
Then, on the two days I'd set aside to write the grant, we first spent all day interviewing and meeting about our new Farm Manager (thank you god, she's on board for at least the next three months). The second day I spent doing last minute preparations for the Foundation Appreciation Dinner, and having conversations with my two team mates about the structure of our jobs so that I could, in fact, get on with my job without interference from She-Rex. Who-- I want to acknowledge-- is a vital and incredibly committed member of the team. I'm glad she's there. I just don't want her interfacing with clients. She has a tendency to make them run away.
So I set aside a day to work from home. And I did work from home all that day, but not on the grant. So I worked off the record the next day and a half-- on the grant. And I worked a full day (minus the two hours I spent meeting with the team because SR needed to make decisions about something that won't happen until next Spring) the day before the grant was due on pulling together the final application materials and the budget, and getting signatures where they were needed.
The day the application was due, my day off, I discovered that there was an ADDITIONAL APPLICATION FORM that was only available online, and that my computer operating system was too old to let me open. And then I spent the day at GB's house on HIS computer, swearing and filling out forms online. Then I discovered that the Budget Form (which is on a different website from the application form and application download site) can only be filled out online, and can't be saved once you fill it out, and has to be uploaded to the application download site, which you can only do if it's saved to your computer. AAAAAAARRRGHH!
I over came that hurdle, and got all the way to the place where you finally get to hit SUBMIT... only to discover that one must have a login and password to submit anything. WTF?
So I tried the first login and password I'd had to sign up for waaay back when I was applying for the fricken DUNS number. And was told no, that's wrong, and you have two more tries before we lock you and your application out of our system. Shit.
So I tried the second login and password I'd had to sign up for waay back when I was trying to get signed up to apply for this fricken grant. And was told, no, that's wrong, and you have one more try. Neener Neener Poopoo Head.
Okay.
So I called the govgt grant offices at 6:15pm Eastern Time for help, and SOMEONE HELPED ME!!!! She told me how to sign up for the login that lets you actually submit the grant application. And she stayed on the phone with me while I did it. And it only took two minutes instead of two weeks. And then I submitted my grant proposal, with three hours to spare before the deadline.
OMFG!!!
That was Tuesday. On Wednesday, I worked. On Thursday, I did accounts and worked and prepped for the Teacher Fair on Friday that I had a booth at, and organized a couple of new orders for our Big City Contingent of Dairy Buyers.
On Friday, I spent all day at the Teacher Fair, getting us tons of potential new Education Field-Trip Clients, and networking with other museums and historical sites in the area.
On Saturday, my one day off this weekend, I got an email that totally blew all my work with the Dairy Contingent out of the water, and basically put me in a position where the Dairy Contingent will probably not want to work with me because they don't think I know what I'm talking about. It was an email sent by my boss to me, the dairy contingent, and SR. I still don't know why SR got the email, as she's made it clear she wants nothing further to do with the dairy or the goats.
So I sent a not-happy email to my boss, explaining the effect of her email on my ability to help her with the Dairy Orders in the foreseeable future. Hard to help when nobody believes a word you say, non? And then I spent the rest of the day trying to pack and sort some of my stuff, and cleaning house, because it needs it.
Today, Sunday, I go to work again. We have a Foundation Board Meeting, and I have to arrive early so that I can prepare the materials and reports necessary for that meeting, and find out if I still have a job after the email I sent my boss.
Talk about your recipe for burn out! ...sigh... And I really love my work and this farm. So I really hope we overcome some of these challenges soon.
Well, that's all from Lake Woebegone this week, where all the women are strong, the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.
Growing Up Good
I copied this post from the link below. I'm reposting it here because it gives me so much hope. (Much-needed hope!)
http://community.livejournal.com/library_mofo/1175117.html
-------
Non-mofo award
I've been meaning to mention this one for a while, but...
To the two-year-old twin girls who come in with their mom, so well-behaved, and clean up the children's area when they're finished playing, and always push in the chairs, and wait until we're done with the patron on the computer before showing us that wonderful book they found this time, that they're so excited about getting to read... Thank you. May you grow up just as wonderful as you are when you visit us...and just as generous.
We actually have a whole bunch of awesome little kids at work, but these two really take the cake. They came toddling in one day with their mom, nearly bouncing, and came up to return their books, and handed us a bag. Inside was the majority of their joint sticker collection. One of the things we've had to cut back on is fun kid-stuff, like coloring/activity pages, and the stickers the kids get at the end of their visit, at checkout. These two little girls visit with their mom regularly, and always ask for a sticker, like the other little ones...so they donated their sticker collection from birthdays and other presents so that everyone could still get one, when they come to the library.
http://community.livejournal.com/library_mofo/1175117.html
-------
Non-mofo award
I've been meaning to mention this one for a while, but...
To the two-year-old twin girls who come in with their mom, so well-behaved, and clean up the children's area when they're finished playing, and always push in the chairs, and wait until we're done with the patron on the computer before showing us that wonderful book they found this time, that they're so excited about getting to read... Thank you. May you grow up just as wonderful as you are when you visit us...and just as generous.
We actually have a whole bunch of awesome little kids at work, but these two really take the cake. They came toddling in one day with their mom, nearly bouncing, and came up to return their books, and handed us a bag. Inside was the majority of their joint sticker collection. One of the things we've had to cut back on is fun kid-stuff, like coloring/activity pages, and the stickers the kids get at the end of their visit, at checkout. These two little girls visit with their mom regularly, and always ask for a sticker, like the other little ones...so they donated their sticker collection from birthdays and other presents so that everyone could still get one, when they come to the library.
Monday, September 14
Windburn
GOOD LORD, life got busy! I thought it was busy when I spent all my time applying for jobs and writing my book and working part-time as a Life Coach and keeping up with friends and working on my other projects. But it wasn't.
For the past two weeks (and this is a happy thing), I've worked six days a week. Four at the Farm, and two half-days as a nanny for this huge chunky four-month-old-baby with a lady-killer smile. Next week, I get to focus more on the Farm. (Which, really, is more about the Foundation, and a lot about Education, come to that. I may even eventually get to do the job I was originally hired for, and preserve/digitize/catalog something. You never know.)
And it is SUCH a freakin awesome place to work! We have free-range wild ducks that are huge and black with red and blue and white bits here and there-- and they have little fuzzy yellow babies!! We have three grey barn kittens who keep sneaking into the house and onto peoples' laps when they aren't looking, and one old black Tom who lives by the kitchen stove. We have apple trees and pear trees and zuchinis the size of small sports cars. Lots of friendly male goats who come when called ("hhheeeeerrrr goat-goat-goat, hhheeeeeerrrr goat-goat-goat!") and really want you to rub behind their ears, and three dappled white Davenport-Arabian horses that all want to make sure they get some of whatever you're handing out.
We have school children learning to make butter and listening to the story of Florinda Geer who traveled the Oregon Trail with her parents when she was eight years old, and then planted a tree on her parents' land-grant farm in 1856 that is still standing and growing on that same farm today. We have farm-fresh dairy cheese made with an old recipe from very old hillside cave dairy farms in Switzerland. We have an archive with over 165 years of family history, letters, tintype photos, and furniture from that trip over the Oregon Trail in 1846.
What we don't have is money to keep everything going. We're still working on that bit.
Anyway, four days at the farm with long 45-mile drives to get there and back, plus working part time as a Life Coach, plus writing my book and keeping up with friends and working as a Moderator for an online information distribution website and carving out time to spend with my boyfriend and and and-- Well it's a heck of a lot busier than I was before. And I love everything I'm doing. I just don't get much sleep. And the days are flying by so quickly anymore, I keep checking my face for windburn.
For the past two weeks (and this is a happy thing), I've worked six days a week. Four at the Farm, and two half-days as a nanny for this huge chunky four-month-old-baby with a lady-killer smile. Next week, I get to focus more on the Farm. (Which, really, is more about the Foundation, and a lot about Education, come to that. I may even eventually get to do the job I was originally hired for, and preserve/digitize/catalog something. You never know.)
And it is SUCH a freakin awesome place to work! We have free-range wild ducks that are huge and black with red and blue and white bits here and there-- and they have little fuzzy yellow babies!! We have three grey barn kittens who keep sneaking into the house and onto peoples' laps when they aren't looking, and one old black Tom who lives by the kitchen stove. We have apple trees and pear trees and zuchinis the size of small sports cars. Lots of friendly male goats who come when called ("hhheeeeerrrr goat-goat-goat, hhheeeeeerrrr goat-goat-goat!") and really want you to rub behind their ears, and three dappled white Davenport-Arabian horses that all want to make sure they get some of whatever you're handing out.
We have school children learning to make butter and listening to the story of Florinda Geer who traveled the Oregon Trail with her parents when she was eight years old, and then planted a tree on her parents' land-grant farm in 1856 that is still standing and growing on that same farm today. We have farm-fresh dairy cheese made with an old recipe from very old hillside cave dairy farms in Switzerland. We have an archive with over 165 years of family history, letters, tintype photos, and furniture from that trip over the Oregon Trail in 1846.
What we don't have is money to keep everything going. We're still working on that bit.
Anyway, four days at the farm with long 45-mile drives to get there and back, plus working part time as a Life Coach, plus writing my book and keeping up with friends and working as a Moderator for an online information distribution website and carving out time to spend with my boyfriend and and and-- Well it's a heck of a lot busier than I was before. And I love everything I'm doing. I just don't get much sleep. And the days are flying by so quickly anymore, I keep checking my face for windburn.
Monday, August 17
Soup, Soup, Soup
I think this particular title comes from a Maurice Syndac book I read when I was little. I recall the book also being fairly small, and in it is a little boy with a very large wooden mixing spoon. I've always wanted a spoon like that. I always figured, The bigger the spoon, the better the soup! I love making soup.
This evening, I walked into the house to find that my housemate (PC-- stands for Pretty Cool. And if her middle name started with a D, she'd be Pretty Dagmn Cool, if you ask me...) is watching a musical on the TV in her bedroom. Loudly. Which is just down the hall from mine. And her door is open for air, since today was actually rather warm. I think summer might still be summering for a few more weeks here after all. sigh...
So anyway, I'm at home, going to my room, and I've gotten to the top of the stairs. In fact, I'm just rounding the end of the banister, not listening particularly closely to the actor in PC's musical, who is listing a bunch of specific ingredients as he mixes them all together...
The man in the musical intones: ...A bit of this, a dab of that, a cup of this, another ingredient or two, and a pinch of cohones.
I stopped with one hand still on the banister railing, and blinked bemusedly at her bedroom door.
...What are cohones? another TV personality asks.
...Don't ask. And the music swells with magic potion billowyness.
"I see breasts. And foam. Of Course the magic potion is foaming." PC says this the same way that one might say "I don't believe you. This is ridiculous. Of course I have a cavity, because this is a dream, and you are an evil dentist." Dryly, with total disbelief at the predictability of the situation.
"Hi PC," I say, and open the door to my room. Just another night here in wonderland. With breasts and cohones and foaming magic potion thrown in for fun. What the hell kind of musical was that, anyway??
This evening, I walked into the house to find that my housemate (PC-- stands for Pretty Cool. And if her middle name started with a D, she'd be Pretty Dagmn Cool, if you ask me...) is watching a musical on the TV in her bedroom. Loudly. Which is just down the hall from mine. And her door is open for air, since today was actually rather warm. I think summer might still be summering for a few more weeks here after all. sigh...
So anyway, I'm at home, going to my room, and I've gotten to the top of the stairs. In fact, I'm just rounding the end of the banister, not listening particularly closely to the actor in PC's musical, who is listing a bunch of specific ingredients as he mixes them all together...
The man in the musical intones: ...A bit of this, a dab of that, a cup of this, another ingredient or two, and a pinch of cohones.
I stopped with one hand still on the banister railing, and blinked bemusedly at her bedroom door.
...What are cohones? another TV personality asks.
...Don't ask. And the music swells with magic potion billowyness.
"I see breasts. And foam. Of Course the magic potion is foaming." PC says this the same way that one might say "I don't believe you. This is ridiculous. Of course I have a cavity, because this is a dream, and you are an evil dentist." Dryly, with total disbelief at the predictability of the situation.
"Hi PC," I say, and open the door to my room. Just another night here in wonderland. With breasts and cohones and foaming magic potion thrown in for fun. What the hell kind of musical was that, anyway??
Friday, August 14
Feeling Green
So I'm in this totally AWESOME Journaling Group that meets once a month. It's an all-women group, and we talk (and write) about self-knowledge, wisdom, intuition and-- this year-- ourselves in relation to each of the seven chakras.
This month, we are focusing on Fourth Chakra. Heart Chakra. It's green, and gold. Here are some of the things that this particular embodied energy focal point is about:
generosity, transformation, balance, awareness of universal consciousness, wealth, imagination, determination, will power, the heart and upper back, circulatory system and immune system
It is the element of Air, and the sense of Touch. It is the heart of emotional healing, personal evolution, and clear vision. The Heart Chakra is the center of the chakra system in that it connects the three higher and the three lower chakras. Through this chakra, we learn to get in touch with our core being and our inner truth. It is the balance point of the higher self and how we manifest that self here in the mundane world. "As Above, So Below." (Some of this is quoted from VJ's notes for our group. Thanks VJ!)
And after writing and thinking about this for a bit, I had the realization that WEALTH and DOLLARS are a part of that healing Green Energy of the Fourth Chakra. Who Knew?? And that when I do finally dig myself out of debt and have money to spare, my heart's desire is to buy land and create spiritual and physical sanctuary on it, using (guess what!) Green Building techniques, and Green Energy sources-- in a more mundane sense of the words. To create a place of healing. So in a fairly direct way, me receiving money (which just happens to be green in our culture) allows me to give healing in bigger and better ways, the more money I receive. It allows me to magnify the amount of green heart-healing energy I give back to the world. Through my very use of money, it becomes a green energy in and of itself.
I know-- it's crazy.
For someone who actually has felt rather dirty about accepting money to heal people and be their Life Coach in an eternal Wise Woman sort of way... this was a real revelation. I heal emotional issues for my clients-- and I do it through the chakra energy of my heart. Green Energy.
And suddenly, I'm coming to terms with the reality that if I DON'T get paid in money what my healing energy is worth, I won't have the basic building blocks (food, clothing, shelter, freedom from debilitating debts) that I need if I want to stay energized and capable of helping others to heal. I've had this block against earning money for what I just naturally do. Money is not natural. I knew the block was there, but I didn't seem able to budge it. And this week, my Journaling Group changed all that.
So I thought I'd share. I'm really thrilled, actually. I finally understand ENERGETICALLY how important the money piece is to the whole healing circle of green energy in today's world. I'm finally making peace with the role money plays in my life. I'm learning not to resent my need for money. If I'm lucky, this might even make it easier for me to draw money-- and opportunities to earn money-- into my life path.
And now that I'm beyond the shock and awe of having that particular personal block to a healthy relationship with money just ...disintegrate... I'm starting to realize how unhealthy our whole nation's relationship with money is right now. I mean, here are some signs of a blocked Heart Chakra:
Feelings of jealousy, indifference, loneliness. Becoming needy, grabby, or demanding. Asking others for love and fulfillment, rather than looking within for self-love and self-fulfillment. Fear, despair, hate, longing. Pretending we don't need other people. Pretending we can cope with everything the world and life throws at us-- all by ourselves, alone.
And I thought, what a perfect description of the relationship I have had (and I think most of us have in this flailing economy) with money. It's amazing what a perfectly nice person will do to someone else, even someone they love, once money enters the picture. For myself, I've been jealous of those who have money. I've felt desperate to get or earn money. I often looked to others and their ways of earning and spending, instead of focusing on the relationship *I* want to build with money, and the strengths and abilities I want to use to earn it.
I have spent the last five years in a constant state of financial fear. I have hated my dependence on money, and yet I longed to have more of it. I have pretended all was well, in my financial world, while quickly falling into debt and despair. And I have insisted that I shouldn't need money-- or help with my budget and/or cash flow-- to get by. I have bought into the myth that talking about money, and my relationship to it, is shameful.
I've been very unhealthy and wrong and just BLOCKED, without even knowing HOW I was blocked and unhealthy. All I knew was that I had to find some way to unblock if I wanted to actually be able to have money come into my life (ie: income), rather than always watching it leave. And now, I'm excited to understand that money doesn't have to be evil. I begin to feel GOOD about my potential to earn large quantities of it. Because I spend large quantities of energy doing good work for other people (and therefore for myself) and for the Earth.
It is fair and reasonable that I be recompensed in a format that enables me to keep doing what I do-- only better. I'm excited to learn how much MORE I can do as a healer now that I've finally unblocked my Heart Chakra. And I'm curious to see the effects of finally allowing my definitions of "Abundance" and "Wealth" to include financial well-being, and an abundance of income. My definitions remain very broad-- but I realize now that it's okay to wish for not only an abundance of good friends, good food, good health, and good experiences-- but also to look for a good income as a vital part of truly Abundant Living. Wish me well-- it's turning out to be quite a journey.
This month, we are focusing on Fourth Chakra. Heart Chakra. It's green, and gold. Here are some of the things that this particular embodied energy focal point is about:
generosity, transformation, balance, awareness of universal consciousness, wealth, imagination, determination, will power, the heart and upper back, circulatory system and immune system
It is the element of Air, and the sense of Touch. It is the heart of emotional healing, personal evolution, and clear vision. The Heart Chakra is the center of the chakra system in that it connects the three higher and the three lower chakras. Through this chakra, we learn to get in touch with our core being and our inner truth. It is the balance point of the higher self and how we manifest that self here in the mundane world. "As Above, So Below." (Some of this is quoted from VJ's notes for our group. Thanks VJ!)
And after writing and thinking about this for a bit, I had the realization that WEALTH and DOLLARS are a part of that healing Green Energy of the Fourth Chakra. Who Knew?? And that when I do finally dig myself out of debt and have money to spare, my heart's desire is to buy land and create spiritual and physical sanctuary on it, using (guess what!) Green Building techniques, and Green Energy sources-- in a more mundane sense of the words. To create a place of healing. So in a fairly direct way, me receiving money (which just happens to be green in our culture) allows me to give healing in bigger and better ways, the more money I receive. It allows me to magnify the amount of green heart-healing energy I give back to the world. Through my very use of money, it becomes a green energy in and of itself.
I know-- it's crazy.
For someone who actually has felt rather dirty about accepting money to heal people and be their Life Coach in an eternal Wise Woman sort of way... this was a real revelation. I heal emotional issues for my clients-- and I do it through the chakra energy of my heart. Green Energy.
And suddenly, I'm coming to terms with the reality that if I DON'T get paid in money what my healing energy is worth, I won't have the basic building blocks (food, clothing, shelter, freedom from debilitating debts) that I need if I want to stay energized and capable of helping others to heal. I've had this block against earning money for what I just naturally do. Money is not natural. I knew the block was there, but I didn't seem able to budge it. And this week, my Journaling Group changed all that.
So I thought I'd share. I'm really thrilled, actually. I finally understand ENERGETICALLY how important the money piece is to the whole healing circle of green energy in today's world. I'm finally making peace with the role money plays in my life. I'm learning not to resent my need for money. If I'm lucky, this might even make it easier for me to draw money-- and opportunities to earn money-- into my life path.
And now that I'm beyond the shock and awe of having that particular personal block to a healthy relationship with money just ...disintegrate... I'm starting to realize how unhealthy our whole nation's relationship with money is right now. I mean, here are some signs of a blocked Heart Chakra:
Feelings of jealousy, indifference, loneliness. Becoming needy, grabby, or demanding. Asking others for love and fulfillment, rather than looking within for self-love and self-fulfillment. Fear, despair, hate, longing. Pretending we don't need other people. Pretending we can cope with everything the world and life throws at us-- all by ourselves, alone.
And I thought, what a perfect description of the relationship I have had (and I think most of us have in this flailing economy) with money. It's amazing what a perfectly nice person will do to someone else, even someone they love, once money enters the picture. For myself, I've been jealous of those who have money. I've felt desperate to get or earn money. I often looked to others and their ways of earning and spending, instead of focusing on the relationship *I* want to build with money, and the strengths and abilities I want to use to earn it.
I have spent the last five years in a constant state of financial fear. I have hated my dependence on money, and yet I longed to have more of it. I have pretended all was well, in my financial world, while quickly falling into debt and despair. And I have insisted that I shouldn't need money-- or help with my budget and/or cash flow-- to get by. I have bought into the myth that talking about money, and my relationship to it, is shameful.
I've been very unhealthy and wrong and just BLOCKED, without even knowing HOW I was blocked and unhealthy. All I knew was that I had to find some way to unblock if I wanted to actually be able to have money come into my life (ie: income), rather than always watching it leave. And now, I'm excited to understand that money doesn't have to be evil. I begin to feel GOOD about my potential to earn large quantities of it. Because I spend large quantities of energy doing good work for other people (and therefore for myself) and for the Earth.
It is fair and reasonable that I be recompensed in a format that enables me to keep doing what I do-- only better. I'm excited to learn how much MORE I can do as a healer now that I've finally unblocked my Heart Chakra. And I'm curious to see the effects of finally allowing my definitions of "Abundance" and "Wealth" to include financial well-being, and an abundance of income. My definitions remain very broad-- but I realize now that it's okay to wish for not only an abundance of good friends, good food, good health, and good experiences-- but also to look for a good income as a vital part of truly Abundant Living. Wish me well-- it's turning out to be quite a journey.
Saturday, August 1
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:
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.
Thursday, July 23
And-a-Half
Well, I was going to write about the Family Reunion, but that may have to wait for the weekend now. Instead, today was somewhat sidetracked by having my car side-swiped by a rather large dark green Ford F-250. The good news is he stopped and gave me his insurance number and his name. The bad news is-- well, I was kinda hoping to go for more than a year-and-a-half before my next major car accident.
In other good news, it's drivable, and I am not at fault. Also, the autobody shop was able to fix the tail light so I'm legal, and my insurance will give me a loaner until they fix everything else. Which should take about a week. So GB and I will be driving a rental car down to visit his family in Sacramento next week, which isn't exactly what we'd been planning... We've requested something with good gas mileage. And nobody was hurt. I'm really grateful for that.
However, the driver's side rear quarter-panel needs replacing, and the whole lower panel and bumper need a new paint job. And I need a new light cover on the rear tail light. Also, apparently "pannel" only has one N in it.
So yeah, that all kinda put a kink in my plans for the day. I'm really glad GB was there with me, and I'm really glad that-- unlike the LAST time a large dark green vehicle slammed into me-- my passenger was uninjured. Last time, I saw the land rover speed up and ram my car in the rearview mirror. I said "He's not going to stop." And he didn't.
This time, I saw the ford truck veer into my lane and said "Please don't hit me?" But he did anyway. Last time, my passenger turned to me and said "What?" right before we got rear ended horribly. This time, my passenger turned and watched us get side-swiped, and then knew more than I did about exactly how and where it happened. He also ran back and picked up the busted light cover for me while Ford and I exchanged info.
sigh...
In other good news, it's drivable, and I am not at fault. Also, the autobody shop was able to fix the tail light so I'm legal, and my insurance will give me a loaner until they fix everything else. Which should take about a week. So GB and I will be driving a rental car down to visit his family in Sacramento next week, which isn't exactly what we'd been planning... We've requested something with good gas mileage. And nobody was hurt. I'm really grateful for that.
However, the driver's side rear quarter-panel needs replacing, and the whole lower panel and bumper need a new paint job. And I need a new light cover on the rear tail light. Also, apparently "pannel" only has one N in it.
So yeah, that all kinda put a kink in my plans for the day. I'm really glad GB was there with me, and I'm really glad that-- unlike the LAST time a large dark green vehicle slammed into me-- my passenger was uninjured. Last time, I saw the land rover speed up and ram my car in the rearview mirror. I said "He's not going to stop." And he didn't.
This time, I saw the ford truck veer into my lane and said "Please don't hit me?" But he did anyway. Last time, my passenger turned to me and said "What?" right before we got rear ended horribly. This time, my passenger turned and watched us get side-swiped, and then knew more than I did about exactly how and where it happened. He also ran back and picked up the busted light cover for me while Ford and I exchanged info.
sigh...
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 15
It's Own Self
Funny thing... I stopped trying to guess what would make others happy, stopped trying to control outcomes, and started simply stating my personal preferences directly as the day unfolded... And the outcomes started taking care of themselves. Today has been a wonderful day.
Had an awesome breakfast with GB around lunch time. Ordered what sounded good to me instead of worrying about the price. Acknowledged that I wasn't interested in watching one of his favorite shows-- knowing he can watch it when it replays on Friday. Was therefore not resentful about the time we spent watching TV. Petted cats for a while because they needed to be petted. Felt no need to justify my priorities to anyone.
Cleaned out my entire car in anticipation of lots of family and luggage fitting into it on Friday (yay!). Stopped worrying about identity theft and recycling and finally threw that huge-ass bag of junk mail in the trash. Ate a few bites of ice cream to cool me down. Cleaned out the plastic leftover food containers bin with my housemate like I've been promising to do for the last few months. Now everything that's left has a fitting lid, and the door to the bin actually closes. YAY!!!
Cooked the little organic corns from the food box, and had some really yummy greens (courtesy of my awesome roomie!!) Because I wanted greens, and I've been drooling in anticipation of that corn for nearly a week now... Decided not to stress that GB was late for our double-dinner-date with his friends I'd never met before... Only tried on two shirts in the process of getting ready. (And if I hadn't sweated out the one I had on, I'd have been ready to go just as I was. No more vacillating in front of the mirror as I try to look like the right kind of girlfriend. I'm me. Isn't that enough?!) Decided to send him a reminder text when he still didn't show up because I wanted to know what was going on. Good decision, as he'd gotten sucked into the world wide web, and was totally lost to reality 20 minutes after he'd planned to let me know he was on his way. Decided to read up about healthy relationships while I waited for him to finish getting ready and come pick me up for our double date.
Decided it is his worry and not mine if we are half an hour late the first time I meet his friends. Failed to worry. Had a total blast with GB and his friends at a really yummy bar with fuzzy black wall paper and the Kentucky Fried Colonel's photo in the place of honor over the restroom hallway. Felt just fine eating-but-n0t-drinking in a punked-out restaurant-bar. Had a good conversation about friendship and friends with GB after we took his awesome friends back to their apartment. Kicked him out when I started getting sleepy. Wrote a blog post about my day.
Started the laundry, and went to bed early enough that I won't be tired when I drive out to the Farm tomorrow morning. At least, that's the plan. Really, when I decided to make sure *I* was enjoying my life, life suddenly became so much easier to enjoy!
I think sometimes when you stop struggling to make the flow go your way, and just go with the flow that's already inside you... the rest takes care of itself.
Had an awesome breakfast with GB around lunch time. Ordered what sounded good to me instead of worrying about the price. Acknowledged that I wasn't interested in watching one of his favorite shows-- knowing he can watch it when it replays on Friday. Was therefore not resentful about the time we spent watching TV. Petted cats for a while because they needed to be petted. Felt no need to justify my priorities to anyone.
Cleaned out my entire car in anticipation of lots of family and luggage fitting into it on Friday (yay!). Stopped worrying about identity theft and recycling and finally threw that huge-ass bag of junk mail in the trash. Ate a few bites of ice cream to cool me down. Cleaned out the plastic leftover food containers bin with my housemate like I've been promising to do for the last few months. Now everything that's left has a fitting lid, and the door to the bin actually closes. YAY!!!
Cooked the little organic corns from the food box, and had some really yummy greens (courtesy of my awesome roomie!!) Because I wanted greens, and I've been drooling in anticipation of that corn for nearly a week now... Decided not to stress that GB was late for our double-dinner-date with his friends I'd never met before... Only tried on two shirts in the process of getting ready. (And if I hadn't sweated out the one I had on, I'd have been ready to go just as I was. No more vacillating in front of the mirror as I try to look like the right kind of girlfriend. I'm me. Isn't that enough?!) Decided to send him a reminder text when he still didn't show up because I wanted to know what was going on. Good decision, as he'd gotten sucked into the world wide web, and was totally lost to reality 20 minutes after he'd planned to let me know he was on his way. Decided to read up about healthy relationships while I waited for him to finish getting ready and come pick me up for our double date.
Decided it is his worry and not mine if we are half an hour late the first time I meet his friends. Failed to worry. Had a total blast with GB and his friends at a really yummy bar with fuzzy black wall paper and the Kentucky Fried Colonel's photo in the place of honor over the restroom hallway. Felt just fine eating-but-n0t-drinking in a punked-out restaurant-bar. Had a good conversation about friendship and friends with GB after we took his awesome friends back to their apartment. Kicked him out when I started getting sleepy. Wrote a blog post about my day.
Started the laundry, and went to bed early enough that I won't be tired when I drive out to the Farm tomorrow morning. At least, that's the plan. Really, when I decided to make sure *I* was enjoying my life, life suddenly became so much easier to enjoy!
I think sometimes when you stop struggling to make the flow go your way, and just go with the flow that's already inside you... the rest takes care of itself.
Tuesday, July 14
Vulnerabilities
My copy of "Truth In Dating" by Susan M. Campbell went missing a couple of months ago, so I borrowed a copy from the library. Now it's due back because someone else put a hold on it. Probably someone I've recommended the book to. It's a really great book, for ANY person-to-person relationship, be it work, family, friends, or actual dating scenarios. I highly recommend it. Often.
So I'm sitting here contemplating the return trip to the library, and I flipped the book open to a page about being vulnerable. It's a very relevant page for me right now, because I've been feeling rather vulnerable the past few days for no reason I could find. I've also been trying to put my finger on a lingering concern I had yet to define in my dating relationship.
So what is my big vulnerability? Besides my fear of asking for more than someone has to give me? And why haven't I shared that with GB? What is it that's about ME, regardless of the relationship I'm in? Well-- I realize that I have a deep fear of being disposable. That I've started to resent the people who like to talk, but don't make time to listen. And I don't tend to share that bit of angst when it comes up. I know how important a good listener can be, and I am very very good at listening.
So many people in my world-- for the past twenty years or so-- They seek out my company when they are working on a big life change. When they need counsel or a leg up or just someone to listen and love them anyway. And when they get what they need to move forward with their lives, they spread their wings and fly away... until next time. That's part of why I finally opened an office. Why it's been so hard to give notice and close the office down again. I wanted to create a category in my life for the folks I support, so that I would be less likely to expect them to support me in return. It's not the way those relationships work.
It's a pattern I've known about for years, but I hadn't thought about it in a while. And I used to work hard at clarifying which were my fly-away friends, and which were my solid and constant friends who actually want to be there for ME on a regular basis, too. The folks who make time for me and appreciate more about me than my ability to support them. Because there is a lot more to me than the fact that I'm a good listener who helps others become the people they want to be. Guess I haven't paid enough attention to that lately.
From there I went back to thinking about my current relationship with GB. I realized that (from my perspective) my biggest function with him seems to be as a good listener, and as a catalyst for him to lead the life he has wanted to grow into for so long. And as much as I'm honored to fill that role for him, it makes me feel disposable. I'm just waiting for him to get what he needs and fly away like so many others do. And a big part of me wants to feel that the man I'm dating finds me interesting and fun and enjoyable and special for who I am and what I've done in my life-- and not just what I do for him. Anybody can listen.
Granted, I'm making a big assumption of what he likes or appreciates or even what he knows about me. But when my interest in watching "Warehouse 13" shocked him, because he was interested in it, too, and he hasn't been interested in watching anything else I like... I had to acknowledge just how little he does know (or find interesting) about me. And I'm not sure how to fix that. I mean, he's considerate, and observant, and works to remember any preferences I express. He's a good listener when I open my mouth and talk, and he's totally supportive when I let him know about a challenge I'm facing in my life. He respects me, and he appreciates my input. But that's the rub-- I share bits of his life with him... but I don't know how to get this awesome guy who I really like to share bits of my life with me. I think I'm pretty unique and have a lot of interesting stories to share, if given the opportunity. Clearly, it's something *I* have to work on. Making opportunities. And not just with GB.
For now, I've decided that a return to my original game plan of dating would be a good morale booster for me. And that's got to be my priority. Me. So when I go over to his place tonight, I'm going to wear the most outrageously "ME" clothing I own, (You are, by the way, reading the blog of a woman who wore poofy purple genie pants and a dragon medallion in high school, had a very tall "mohawk" buzz cut for a few months in college, cox'd for the West Poignt men's crew team, lived for several years as the perfect little Army Wife, has prophetic dreams, works as an Archival Librarian on a woman-run organic goat farm, and daydreams of riding motorcycles at high speeds.) and I'm going to bring a movie I want to watch for once! I'm going to be sassy and strong and demanding, and just get what I want for myself-- and let the boy worry about keeping up with me for a change. (--this was the original dating plan, btw) If he wants to stay with me, he's going to have to form functional relationship with ALL parts of who I am, prove he doesn't scare easy, and not just interact with the safe and supportive bits of me that I've been putting out there for him lately.
Yes, I'm pretty and sweet and I don't cheat, but there's a hell of a lot more to me than that!
...should be fun...
So I'm sitting here contemplating the return trip to the library, and I flipped the book open to a page about being vulnerable. It's a very relevant page for me right now, because I've been feeling rather vulnerable the past few days for no reason I could find. I've also been trying to put my finger on a lingering concern I had yet to define in my dating relationship.
So what is my big vulnerability? Besides my fear of asking for more than someone has to give me? And why haven't I shared that with GB? What is it that's about ME, regardless of the relationship I'm in? Well-- I realize that I have a deep fear of being disposable. That I've started to resent the people who like to talk, but don't make time to listen. And I don't tend to share that bit of angst when it comes up. I know how important a good listener can be, and I am very very good at listening.
So many people in my world-- for the past twenty years or so-- They seek out my company when they are working on a big life change. When they need counsel or a leg up or just someone to listen and love them anyway. And when they get what they need to move forward with their lives, they spread their wings and fly away... until next time. That's part of why I finally opened an office. Why it's been so hard to give notice and close the office down again. I wanted to create a category in my life for the folks I support, so that I would be less likely to expect them to support me in return. It's not the way those relationships work.
It's a pattern I've known about for years, but I hadn't thought about it in a while. And I used to work hard at clarifying which were my fly-away friends, and which were my solid and constant friends who actually want to be there for ME on a regular basis, too. The folks who make time for me and appreciate more about me than my ability to support them. Because there is a lot more to me than the fact that I'm a good listener who helps others become the people they want to be. Guess I haven't paid enough attention to that lately.
From there I went back to thinking about my current relationship with GB. I realized that (from my perspective) my biggest function with him seems to be as a good listener, and as a catalyst for him to lead the life he has wanted to grow into for so long. And as much as I'm honored to fill that role for him, it makes me feel disposable. I'm just waiting for him to get what he needs and fly away like so many others do. And a big part of me wants to feel that the man I'm dating finds me interesting and fun and enjoyable and special for who I am and what I've done in my life-- and not just what I do for him. Anybody can listen.
Granted, I'm making a big assumption of what he likes or appreciates or even what he knows about me. But when my interest in watching "Warehouse 13" shocked him, because he was interested in it, too, and he hasn't been interested in watching anything else I like... I had to acknowledge just how little he does know (or find interesting) about me. And I'm not sure how to fix that. I mean, he's considerate, and observant, and works to remember any preferences I express. He's a good listener when I open my mouth and talk, and he's totally supportive when I let him know about a challenge I'm facing in my life. He respects me, and he appreciates my input. But that's the rub-- I share bits of his life with him... but I don't know how to get this awesome guy who I really like to share bits of my life with me. I think I'm pretty unique and have a lot of interesting stories to share, if given the opportunity. Clearly, it's something *I* have to work on. Making opportunities. And not just with GB.
For now, I've decided that a return to my original game plan of dating would be a good morale booster for me. And that's got to be my priority. Me. So when I go over to his place tonight, I'm going to wear the most outrageously "ME" clothing I own, (You are, by the way, reading the blog of a woman who wore poofy purple genie pants and a dragon medallion in high school, had a very tall "mohawk" buzz cut for a few months in college, cox'd for the West Poignt men's crew team, lived for several years as the perfect little Army Wife, has prophetic dreams, works as an Archival Librarian on a woman-run organic goat farm, and daydreams of riding motorcycles at high speeds.) and I'm going to bring a movie I want to watch for once! I'm going to be sassy and strong and demanding, and just get what I want for myself-- and let the boy worry about keeping up with me for a change. (--this was the original dating plan, btw) If he wants to stay with me, he's going to have to form functional relationship with ALL parts of who I am, prove he doesn't scare easy, and not just interact with the safe and supportive bits of me that I've been putting out there for him lately.
Yes, I'm pretty and sweet and I don't cheat, but there's a hell of a lot more to me than that!
...should be fun...
Saturday, July 11
Oogling Goggles
When I first became a nanny, little Annabelle would wear her swim goggles when she wanted to look like me in my glasses. She was totally adorable, and I have this awesome photo of her using lotion and a baby wipe to "clean" the mirror, wearing a really cute little dress, leggings, and swim goggles. She was two at the time. GB wears HIS goggles when he's riding his motorcycle.
I've always secretly wanted to ride motorcycles. Okay, so it hasn't been much of a secret... but I don't tend to bring it up because a lot of my friends just wouldn't understand. And some women have insisted that I should want to ride my OWN motorcycle-- but what I really want is to ride behind somebody else on theirs. Preferably, somebody I'd be comfortable hugging for long periods of time. All the fun, none of the responsibility.
With this background, you might understand why I was rather excited to start dating a guy who rides. Except that he'd recently hurt his thumb (motorcycle accident), and couldn't... So even though we've been dating for a couple of months now, I have yet to take my first motorcycle ride. Maybe it's just not meant to be.
...But I'm still hoping.
Yesterday, we took the bike (he rode it, I drove behind just in case) to a repair shop for estimates. First time I've had opportunity to watch someone ride a bike for any period of time. Usually when I start to show interest in a motorcycle on the road, the rider tries to pick me up, so I've learned NOT to oogle strange motorcycle riders. sigh. But GB was fair game, and it took us a good 20 minutes to get where we were going. It totally whetted my appetite to ride all over again.
The funny thing is that he was in SUCH a better mood after his ride. I've got to convince that boy to either ride his bike or go for workouts in the gym on a regular basis. I much prefer him happy. I cannot, however, tell you whether or not he looks adorable in HIS goggles-- he forgot to wear them yesterday. It took some doing, but I finally convinced him to wear my sunglasses for the trip home, since it was a very sunny day, and the goggles are, apparently, tinted. BOYS!!! sigh...
I've always secretly wanted to ride motorcycles. Okay, so it hasn't been much of a secret... but I don't tend to bring it up because a lot of my friends just wouldn't understand. And some women have insisted that I should want to ride my OWN motorcycle-- but what I really want is to ride behind somebody else on theirs. Preferably, somebody I'd be comfortable hugging for long periods of time. All the fun, none of the responsibility.
With this background, you might understand why I was rather excited to start dating a guy who rides. Except that he'd recently hurt his thumb (motorcycle accident), and couldn't... So even though we've been dating for a couple of months now, I have yet to take my first motorcycle ride. Maybe it's just not meant to be.
...But I'm still hoping.
Yesterday, we took the bike (he rode it, I drove behind just in case) to a repair shop for estimates. First time I've had opportunity to watch someone ride a bike for any period of time. Usually when I start to show interest in a motorcycle on the road, the rider tries to pick me up, so I've learned NOT to oogle strange motorcycle riders. sigh. But GB was fair game, and it took us a good 20 minutes to get where we were going. It totally whetted my appetite to ride all over again.
The funny thing is that he was in SUCH a better mood after his ride. I've got to convince that boy to either ride his bike or go for workouts in the gym on a regular basis. I much prefer him happy. I cannot, however, tell you whether or not he looks adorable in HIS goggles-- he forgot to wear them yesterday. It took some doing, but I finally convinced him to wear my sunglasses for the trip home, since it was a very sunny day, and the goggles are, apparently, tinted. BOYS!!! sigh...
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.
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.
Monday, July 6
Bang Bang Bang
There has been on-and-off construction on the house next door, and specifically on the roof-patio that looks into my bedroom windows, since I moved in. And apparently, for two years prior to that as well. Now that house, and the one on the other side (ten feet to the right, if you include the upstairs hallway) both have little 2-year-old boys living in them. Bang Bang Bang.
Actually, I was originally going to call this post "In With A Bang," and then I was going to talk all about the Fourth of July, and the total lack of relationship between today's fireworks parties and any sort of leftover patriogtism about the colonists's war with the British. Except, of course, for the fact that everyone was probably drunk and stogned at the signing of the Declaration of Independence (History Channel), and so were most of the fireworks partiers we encountered on Saturday. But seeing as how this is already the 6th, what happened two days and over two hundred years ago... Well it just seems like old news.
SO... to sum up... Humperdink gonna marry Buttercup in a littlelessan khalph-an-hour. And GB and I went downtown and watched the big fireworks display from the bridge, with 50,000 of our closest friends. It was very cool. Bang Bang Bang.
And then the insurance claims dude came to look at GB's bike this morning, and declared it totaled. Which shocked the hell out of everyone, because there's basically some scratching, a dent in the gas tank, and maybe the handlebars are bent crooked, and some lights and a mirror snapped off... but other than that, she was just fine! Wait... when you put it like that... there doesn't seem to be much left undamaged besides the engine. Huh.
Anyway, GB first introduced me to his motorcycle soon after we started dating. "Innt she beauuuuutiful??" So for him to think of trashing her for the insurance money... well, I suspect it feels a bit like a cold-blooded murder. So as soon as the insurance claims dude left, GB called me up, totally upset that the most logical option seems to be agreeing that his baby is totaled, and letting the cold-hearted insurance robots drag her away. Because the truth is that he was just planning to fix her up and sell her anyway. But going against all his carefully organized manly reasoning and well-thought-out acknowledgment of the financial reality, he just doesn't FEEL LOGICAL about it. And in the background, I could hear his fist on the desk... Bang Bang Bang.
There were three other serious examples of "bang bang bang" in my world today, but one was the sound of my head hitting my desk, one is the way Abbigale's sneezes keep getting louder and closer together, and the other was this new and bizarre "Rule of Three" that the nurse practitioner told me about at Planned Parenthood. Somebody should have told me that a long time ago, thank you very much. And honestly, I just don't want to talk about any of them at the moment. Sorry. Bang Bang Bang.
Actually, I was originally going to call this post "In With A Bang," and then I was going to talk all about the Fourth of July, and the total lack of relationship between today's fireworks parties and any sort of leftover patriogtism about the colonists's war with the British. Except, of course, for the fact that everyone was probably drunk and stogned at the signing of the Declaration of Independence (History Channel), and so were most of the fireworks partiers we encountered on Saturday. But seeing as how this is already the 6th, what happened two days and over two hundred years ago... Well it just seems like old news.
SO... to sum up... Humperdink gonna marry Buttercup in a littlelessan khalph-an-hour. And GB and I went downtown and watched the big fireworks display from the bridge, with 50,000 of our closest friends. It was very cool. Bang Bang Bang.
And then the insurance claims dude came to look at GB's bike this morning, and declared it totaled. Which shocked the hell out of everyone, because there's basically some scratching, a dent in the gas tank, and maybe the handlebars are bent crooked, and some lights and a mirror snapped off... but other than that, she was just fine! Wait... when you put it like that... there doesn't seem to be much left undamaged besides the engine. Huh.
Anyway, GB first introduced me to his motorcycle soon after we started dating. "Innt she beauuuuutiful??" So for him to think of trashing her for the insurance money... well, I suspect it feels a bit like a cold-blooded murder. So as soon as the insurance claims dude left, GB called me up, totally upset that the most logical option seems to be agreeing that his baby is totaled, and letting the cold-hearted insurance robots drag her away. Because the truth is that he was just planning to fix her up and sell her anyway. But going against all his carefully organized manly reasoning and well-thought-out acknowledgment of the financial reality, he just doesn't FEEL LOGICAL about it. And in the background, I could hear his fist on the desk... Bang Bang Bang.
There were three other serious examples of "bang bang bang" in my world today, but one was the sound of my head hitting my desk, one is the way Abbigale's sneezes keep getting louder and closer together, and the other was this new and bizarre "Rule of Three" that the nurse practitioner told me about at Planned Parenthood. Somebody should have told me that a long time ago, thank you very much. And honestly, I just don't want to talk about any of them at the moment. Sorry. Bang Bang Bang.
Saturday, July 4
Smack me Gently
So GB and I decided we'd be sneaky and avoid yesterday's blistering heat by driving to the Gorge and going for a hike by the waterfalls, in the shade. Of course, when we got there, we realized that everyone else had the same idea, only earlier in the day, so there were no parking places left.
Now, I'd spent a whole 8 hours the previous day in a hot little office with buzzing flies, no a/c, and a terrible lot of accounts that needed settling. And then I worked on job applications until midnight, when a girl supposedly got abducted just below my bedroom window (or saved from her drunk-ass self-- in this neighborhood, it could go either way, or it could be one of the local crazy men-- the one who likes to ride his bike and sing in falsetto at the top of his lungs, for example).
Anyway, there was frantic screaming of "don't touch me, you hurt me" followed by the slam of a car door, an engine driving away, and then silence. And apparently, I'm the only person in the whole freaking neighborhood who didn't have a functional fan that night and/or wasn't drunk out of their skull, so nobody else I've asked had heard the woman scream. At 1am, a neighbor lady I know went into her back yard, sang a little ditty about the cat and the fiddle, and then went back inside. I think that's what finally let me sleep. The neighborlady singing happily to herself in her garden after midnight on a Thursday.
And then I woke up freaking early because my cat had a sneezing fit all over my toes. So I was pretty darn grumpy by the time GB and I had stood in line for biscuits and bacon (for over an hour), sat on the increasingly hot front porch to EAT the biscuits (mine had applebutter, mmmm), drove to the Gorge, and then realized that neither of us knew what already-full parking lot area was the one for the hike we'd decided to take. (I love that my roommate not only KNOWS all the hikes in the entire pacific nw, but has books showing you what they look like and how long/strenuous they are, too!!) So I snapped at him a few times in the process of parking SOMEWHERE THAT MIGHT BE WHERE WE WERE GOING, and felt awful (but still grumpy) when he got really small and quiet on his side of the car.
But as soon as he'd loaded my sandals and my water and my other water and my purse and my emergency pack that looks like another purse into his backpack, and we were actually hiking, in a breeze, toward waterfalls-- I was able to shed my grumpy, and GB started talking to me and smiling again. And when we got to the part where the bridge was washed out and you had to scramble down where no path is or was, and then leapfrog across if you didn't want to get your hiking shoes soaked, and then scramble up again on the other side...
He totally stopped, scouted our chosen descent for poison oak (he thinks he might be immune at this point, but isn't going to test the theory and also REALLY didn't want me to suffer with it), and then also checked the whole potential crossing to make sure he wasn't asking me to do something too risky and uncomfortable. He went first, and tested each step, and warned me when a rock was tippy, and watched to make sure I got past that rock okay. And then when I had trouble with one of the actual leaps in the path he found across (as opposed to a long step from big flat rock to another rock), he held my hand and made sure I landed okay on the other side. Totally without making me feel like a wimp or a loser.
It's been a long time since I've had a guy take such good care of me. Like, maybe the last time was my dad when I was little. And GB wasn't trying to impress me or anything-- he's just that much of a considerate sweetie. I felt so cared about, and having him support me all the way down and across really built my trust for him. Like-- I felt it start to grow in a waivery uncertain way that told me really clearly how long it's been since I felt like it was safe to put my well-being in someone else's hands. The ex usually got me into a situation, and then ran on ahead impatiently while I struggled with fear, slippery rocks, and much shorter legs all by myself, mid-stream.
Total brownie points for the boy, and he didn't even know he was being awesome. Then we wandered upstream, past all the people sitting in the water to cool off, and found our way out to a big flat boulder in the middle of the river. It was a wonderfully cool, shady place to sit for a few minutes and talk about how we want one of these rivers-- for natural air conditioning purposes, as well as aesthetic value-- in our back yard someday.
Of course, once we'd survived the way-too-hot 2-mile hike back up and down and up and down to the ovencar, made our way home, showered off all the sweat and blisters from the hike, and were actually starting to FEEL the a/c in the room-- he smacked my ass so hard it left a red spot, which totally made him giggle every time I glared at him for the rest of the evening. I will never understand this man.
Now, I'd spent a whole 8 hours the previous day in a hot little office with buzzing flies, no a/c, and a terrible lot of accounts that needed settling. And then I worked on job applications until midnight, when a girl supposedly got abducted just below my bedroom window (or saved from her drunk-ass self-- in this neighborhood, it could go either way, or it could be one of the local crazy men-- the one who likes to ride his bike and sing in falsetto at the top of his lungs, for example).
Anyway, there was frantic screaming of "don't touch me, you hurt me" followed by the slam of a car door, an engine driving away, and then silence. And apparently, I'm the only person in the whole freaking neighborhood who didn't have a functional fan that night and/or wasn't drunk out of their skull, so nobody else I've asked had heard the woman scream. At 1am, a neighbor lady I know went into her back yard, sang a little ditty about the cat and the fiddle, and then went back inside. I think that's what finally let me sleep. The neighborlady singing happily to herself in her garden after midnight on a Thursday.
And then I woke up freaking early because my cat had a sneezing fit all over my toes. So I was pretty darn grumpy by the time GB and I had stood in line for biscuits and bacon (for over an hour), sat on the increasingly hot front porch to EAT the biscuits (mine had applebutter, mmmm), drove to the Gorge, and then realized that neither of us knew what already-full parking lot area was the one for the hike we'd decided to take. (I love that my roommate not only KNOWS all the hikes in the entire pacific nw, but has books showing you what they look like and how long/strenuous they are, too!!) So I snapped at him a few times in the process of parking SOMEWHERE THAT MIGHT BE WHERE WE WERE GOING, and felt awful (but still grumpy) when he got really small and quiet on his side of the car.
But as soon as he'd loaded my sandals and my water and my other water and my purse and my emergency pack that looks like another purse into his backpack, and we were actually hiking, in a breeze, toward waterfalls-- I was able to shed my grumpy, and GB started talking to me and smiling again. And when we got to the part where the bridge was washed out and you had to scramble down where no path is or was, and then leapfrog across if you didn't want to get your hiking shoes soaked, and then scramble up again on the other side...
He totally stopped, scouted our chosen descent for poison oak (he thinks he might be immune at this point, but isn't going to test the theory and also REALLY didn't want me to suffer with it), and then also checked the whole potential crossing to make sure he wasn't asking me to do something too risky and uncomfortable. He went first, and tested each step, and warned me when a rock was tippy, and watched to make sure I got past that rock okay. And then when I had trouble with one of the actual leaps in the path he found across (as opposed to a long step from big flat rock to another rock), he held my hand and made sure I landed okay on the other side. Totally without making me feel like a wimp or a loser.
It's been a long time since I've had a guy take such good care of me. Like, maybe the last time was my dad when I was little. And GB wasn't trying to impress me or anything-- he's just that much of a considerate sweetie. I felt so cared about, and having him support me all the way down and across really built my trust for him. Like-- I felt it start to grow in a waivery uncertain way that told me really clearly how long it's been since I felt like it was safe to put my well-being in someone else's hands. The ex usually got me into a situation, and then ran on ahead impatiently while I struggled with fear, slippery rocks, and much shorter legs all by myself, mid-stream.
Total brownie points for the boy, and he didn't even know he was being awesome. Then we wandered upstream, past all the people sitting in the water to cool off, and found our way out to a big flat boulder in the middle of the river. It was a wonderfully cool, shady place to sit for a few minutes and talk about how we want one of these rivers-- for natural air conditioning purposes, as well as aesthetic value-- in our back yard someday.
Of course, once we'd survived the way-too-hot 2-mile hike back up and down and up and down to the ovencar, made our way home, showered off all the sweat and blisters from the hike, and were actually starting to FEEL the a/c in the room-- he smacked my ass so hard it left a red spot, which totally made him giggle every time I glared at him for the rest of the evening. I will never understand this man.
Saturday, June 27
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.
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.
Chewing
Today, I sent out two majorly awesome job applications. I feel good about my qualifications for the positions, feel good about the positions themselves, and feel good about my cover letter etc in relation to applying for the positions.
However, I also notice I'm back to chewing my fingernails. Which I haven't done in nearly two months now. And I sent out two or three TOTALPANIC emails to people who I think of as mentors... in a very unprofessional way... after midnight last night, when I was still working on that awesome cover letter and freaking out about who to use as references. I'm sort of hoping they just hit delete. Because *I* don't want to go back and read what insane freaky things I wrote to them in my sudden exhausted and financially unstable need for reassurance late last night.
Sigh...
Sometimes the internet is a little TOO instantaneous.
However, I also notice I'm back to chewing my fingernails. Which I haven't done in nearly two months now. And I sent out two or three TOTALPANIC emails to people who I think of as mentors... in a very unprofessional way... after midnight last night, when I was still working on that awesome cover letter and freaking out about who to use as references. I'm sort of hoping they just hit delete. Because *I* don't want to go back and read what insane freaky things I wrote to them in my sudden exhausted and financially unstable need for reassurance late last night.
Sigh...
Sometimes the internet is a little TOO instantaneous.
Tuesday, June 23
Responsobiligity
When I was a little girl, my mom taught me to ignore the annoying kids in my class, and maybe then they'd get bored and go away. As a strategy, it worked fairly well. Certainly, the parents and teachers loved my "adult approach" to problems.
By the time I was in third grade, I was such a good little two-shoes that the teacher, Mrs. Z, put me in the seat between two of the most disruptive goof-offs in class. Both named Aaron. Problem was that they were funny and interesting, and the conversations that went on behind my head weren't always that easy to ignore. I tell you, bad boys just have more fun.
But when they had conversations of which I did NOT approve, boy-howdy did I put a lid on it fast! My "oh, no you DON'T" stare was cold, direct (A quick flick of my head sideways to meet Aaron's eyes for half a second, just long enough to raise one eyebrow menacingly, and then full focus back on the teacher at the front of the room. Just like that.), and uncompromising. Sometimes it even worked. But I rarely said a word. Good kids didn't talk when the teacher was talking. And I knew I'd been placed in that situation to ignore the boys into good behavior.
In sixth grade, a boy with a really tough life figured he could out-annoy my tactic of "ignore and avoid." And eventually, he was right. I caught the attention of a teacher and explained the challenge I was having with locker-access between classes, since JO was always there to slam the locker shut for me again. When the teacher explained to JO that his homeroom teacher was my dad... Well, he left me alone after that. And I continued to ignore him.
In eighth grade, a different boy went straight from annoy to abuse. And no matter how hard I ignored him, I still went home from school every day with extra bruises. Eventually I again approached a teacher for help. This time it took a while, but eventually the kid's parents decided it was in his best interests to pretend I didn't exist, and I was allowed to get on with my life. We both worked hard to ignore and avoid each other for the whole four years of high school, where we both played violin in Orchestra class every day.
My first serious boyfriend was in high school... And he often forgot to show up for our planned dates and get-togethers and such. He often ignored my phone calls, too. I worked very hard to ignore the things I didn't like in our relationship because I wanted to succeed with him the same way I'd learned to succeed in school as a little girl. His other girlfriend-- when I found out about her-- was a bit harder to overlook. So I decided to ignore them both.
Add six years, a different guy, a wedding... and you have my marriage. In which I learned to ignore my own needs, my feelings, and my right to be treated with respect. Because that was the only way my marriage was peaceful. That was the only way my marriage was going to succeed. And I didn't want to be the bad guy. Ignore the annoyance-- the way the boy in the seat next to you is goofing off and making bad choices in his life and generally distracting you from your work and your goals-- and it'll stop. Right?
So here I am. Knowing already that I am not Cinderella (see previous post)... And I am facing the fact (again) that my most-used coping mechanism for things that bother/annoy/frustrate me... is to ignore them, and hope they go away. Some life skill. It didn't work in my marriage. It sure isn't working on my financial and job woes. Or on my cat's arthritis, come to that. And it's all gotten a bit over my head, really... But the thing I just tripped over is the realization that there's no teacher to go to for help on this one... And the last few teachers (or counselors, or Argmy Commanders) I went to weren't always that helpful in the situation anyway.
So now I'm thinking--
Maybe we should teach little girls Aikido or Brazilian Ju-Jitsu, and encourage them to confront life's frustrations HEAD-F*ING-ON!! Because we sure aren't doing them any favors by training them to believe that being nice and pretending the problem doesn't exist will make everything in their life okay.
I'm just saying is all...
By the time I was in third grade, I was such a good little two-shoes that the teacher, Mrs. Z, put me in the seat between two of the most disruptive goof-offs in class. Both named Aaron. Problem was that they were funny and interesting, and the conversations that went on behind my head weren't always that easy to ignore. I tell you, bad boys just have more fun.
But when they had conversations of which I did NOT approve, boy-howdy did I put a lid on it fast! My "oh, no you DON'T" stare was cold, direct (A quick flick of my head sideways to meet Aaron's eyes for half a second, just long enough to raise one eyebrow menacingly, and then full focus back on the teacher at the front of the room. Just like that.), and uncompromising. Sometimes it even worked. But I rarely said a word. Good kids didn't talk when the teacher was talking. And I knew I'd been placed in that situation to ignore the boys into good behavior.
In sixth grade, a boy with a really tough life figured he could out-annoy my tactic of "ignore and avoid." And eventually, he was right. I caught the attention of a teacher and explained the challenge I was having with locker-access between classes, since JO was always there to slam the locker shut for me again. When the teacher explained to JO that his homeroom teacher was my dad... Well, he left me alone after that. And I continued to ignore him.
In eighth grade, a different boy went straight from annoy to abuse. And no matter how hard I ignored him, I still went home from school every day with extra bruises. Eventually I again approached a teacher for help. This time it took a while, but eventually the kid's parents decided it was in his best interests to pretend I didn't exist, and I was allowed to get on with my life. We both worked hard to ignore and avoid each other for the whole four years of high school, where we both played violin in Orchestra class every day.
My first serious boyfriend was in high school... And he often forgot to show up for our planned dates and get-togethers and such. He often ignored my phone calls, too. I worked very hard to ignore the things I didn't like in our relationship because I wanted to succeed with him the same way I'd learned to succeed in school as a little girl. His other girlfriend-- when I found out about her-- was a bit harder to overlook. So I decided to ignore them both.
Add six years, a different guy, a wedding... and you have my marriage. In which I learned to ignore my own needs, my feelings, and my right to be treated with respect. Because that was the only way my marriage was peaceful. That was the only way my marriage was going to succeed. And I didn't want to be the bad guy. Ignore the annoyance-- the way the boy in the seat next to you is goofing off and making bad choices in his life and generally distracting you from your work and your goals-- and it'll stop. Right?
So here I am. Knowing already that I am not Cinderella (see previous post)... And I am facing the fact (again) that my most-used coping mechanism for things that bother/annoy/frustrate me... is to ignore them, and hope they go away. Some life skill. It didn't work in my marriage. It sure isn't working on my financial and job woes. Or on my cat's arthritis, come to that. And it's all gotten a bit over my head, really... But the thing I just tripped over is the realization that there's no teacher to go to for help on this one... And the last few teachers (or counselors, or Argmy Commanders) I went to weren't always that helpful in the situation anyway.
So now I'm thinking--
Maybe we should teach little girls Aikido or Brazilian Ju-Jitsu, and encourage them to confront life's frustrations HEAD-F*ING-ON!! Because we sure aren't doing them any favors by training them to believe that being nice and pretending the problem doesn't exist will make everything in their life okay.
I'm just saying is all...
Thursday, June 18
Free Job
Have I told you that I finally got hired for a really cool job? I did. But they don't know for sure how they're going to pay me. It's an interesting conundrum. And the work has momentum that we all think is important to follow up on-- NOW. So basically, I'm looking for other sustaining part time work, and putting in some hours (which I track) on the awesome job, but trying not to work TOO MUCH until there is a secure source of funding...
I think it's time I got paid for at least SOME of the things I spend so much time working on.
The job? There's this farm. It's been owned/lived on by the same family since they got their land-grant for it back in 1848. The farm house that the final generation currently live in was built between 1848-1851. It is still a functional farm. (Now organic!) And they have archives of materials from their trip across the Oregon Trail to now. Archives that the Foundation (who are slowly taking responsibility for preserving the farm as a local historical treasure) would like to preserve, digitize, and then make available for educational purposes. And they've hired me.
IT's FRIGGEN AWESOME!!!
And to be fair, they did find a way to pay me for my work up to the 15th of this month. I think they're impressed that I got so much accomplished in only 19 hours-- and they begin to see the scope of what I can do for their goals... So they've put on my to-do list to research the process and rules for a non-profit Foundation to hire an employee. And to make a calendar of grant application due-dates for future fundraising efforts. I'll be writing the grants too, I suspect.
Should be fun.
And, like I said, I'm piecing together other more reliable work to fill the gaps in the meantime. Wish me luck. I need it.
I think it's time I got paid for at least SOME of the things I spend so much time working on.
The job? There's this farm. It's been owned/lived on by the same family since they got their land-grant for it back in 1848. The farm house that the final generation currently live in was built between 1848-1851. It is still a functional farm. (Now organic!) And they have archives of materials from their trip across the Oregon Trail to now. Archives that the Foundation (who are slowly taking responsibility for preserving the farm as a local historical treasure) would like to preserve, digitize, and then make available for educational purposes. And they've hired me.
IT's FRIGGEN AWESOME!!!
And to be fair, they did find a way to pay me for my work up to the 15th of this month. I think they're impressed that I got so much accomplished in only 19 hours-- and they begin to see the scope of what I can do for their goals... So they've put on my to-do list to research the process and rules for a non-profit Foundation to hire an employee. And to make a calendar of grant application due-dates for future fundraising efforts. I'll be writing the grants too, I suspect.
Should be fun.
And, like I said, I'm piecing together other more reliable work to fill the gaps in the meantime. Wish me luck. I need it.
Wednesday, June 17
No Time To Talk
I've got Saturday Night Fever stuck in my head-- "You can tell by the way I use my walk-- I'm a lady's man, no time to talk... Stayin' Alive, Stayin' Alive. Uh-uh-uh-uh, Stayin' Aliiii-iiiiiiii-iiiiiii-iiiiiive."
It started with the section of book I wrote for tonight's Writing Group, about the Argmy's Agnthrags Vaccine and how awful it was. I was going to call it "Staying Alive..." but then the song flashed in my head. Now it's just THERE. IN MY HEAD.
Interestingly, and nonsequitously, I'm suddenly noticing the things about GB that really impressed me at first, and that he just doesn't do anymore, six weeks into our dating relationship. Like opening the car door for me. Or making sure if I drive home late at night (not just from his house, but from ANYWHERE)-- that I actually made it there safely. Or attributing some of the unexpected good things in his life of late to the fact that I'm in his life now, too. I know that last one wasn't true, but I appreciated the compliment. And I really liked feeling that someone out there cared enough for my safety to check in with me when they knew I might need it. Specifically that the someone I might consider a life partner one day had that level of concern for my well-being. And paid attention to my life enough to know when I was taking long drives alone on the highway, etc.
Also, can I just say that we tried to grocery shop together the other day, and he drove me bonkers in the process. THREE TRIPS down the same aisle because he was having trouble comparing the items on the list to the items in the aisle for more than one item at a time. I know he was tired that day. I know *I* was tired that day, and furthermore that I've done the exact same thing from time to time. But it's the first time he's done anything that really just got on my nerves. I had four hours to spend with him, and 3.5 of those hours went to shopping for paper towels and a skillet. And it REALLY got on my nerves. Besides predicting doom and gloom at every turn, that is. That also gets on my nerves. He's very slowly getting better about that one. I just don't know if I have the patience to wait for him to truly overcome this negative tendency of his.
Those are the not-so-happilies.
Fortunately, he loves my cooking. A lot. He's starting to relax enough around me that I believe I'm starting to see the REAL GB, and not the "make a good first impression" GB. And the real GB still walks into the other room to fart so I don't have to smell it, and sits for long periods in uncomfortable positions rather than move me off his chest, when I fall asleep on him by accident. He pauses in the middle of what he's doing to put a finger under my chin just because he's glad I'm there with him. And he continues to work hard at our communication and at figuring out what we're each thinking about our relationship as it unfolds. He still asks me to explain my unconscious sighs, and really appreciates my input on some of his decisions-- before he makes them. He still takes amazingly good care of his dog, though he's gotten fed up with his lazy-ass roommate's lonely teenage cats, and now chases them away whenever he spends time in the main part of the house.
I know nobody's perfect. And I know I enjoy most of our time together. But I find that my tolerance for other people wasting my time is low, and that my high expectations for any relationship I spend time on are still very much in effect. So I'm teetering between awareness that everybody (including me) has their annoying foibles, and the boy is dealing with a lot of challenges and concerns right now-- and a slow insidious loss of interest in those same challenges and concerns because I've been hearing about them for nearly six weeks now. I can't tell if I'm just grumpy, or if there's something deeper I need to notice.
I also can't tell if I'm leery of "waiting it out" because I lost so much time waiting for my ex to get his shit together... and now I'm unfairly unwilling to give anybody a break for having personal challenges to cope with-- or if I'm leery of "waiting it out" because I don't believe it's actually going to go away anytime soon. I just don't know.
So I think for now I'll wait and see. And maybe take a headache pill before I go to bed. Maybe tomorrow I'll finally feel rested when I wake up. I'd like that. And I really REALLY wish I'd had time to stick around and let the GB spoil me with a big home-made breakfast this morning. He planned to do it. But by 9am, he still wasn't out of bed, and I had a day's worth of work to start. So I left. Half an hour after I'd planned to go, once he finished telling me of his morning worry and kissing me goodbye. And I've been damned grumpy about it ever since.
It started with the section of book I wrote for tonight's Writing Group, about the Argmy's Agnthrags Vaccine and how awful it was. I was going to call it "Staying Alive..." but then the song flashed in my head. Now it's just THERE. IN MY HEAD.
Interestingly, and nonsequitously, I'm suddenly noticing the things about GB that really impressed me at first, and that he just doesn't do anymore, six weeks into our dating relationship. Like opening the car door for me. Or making sure if I drive home late at night (not just from his house, but from ANYWHERE)-- that I actually made it there safely. Or attributing some of the unexpected good things in his life of late to the fact that I'm in his life now, too. I know that last one wasn't true, but I appreciated the compliment. And I really liked feeling that someone out there cared enough for my safety to check in with me when they knew I might need it. Specifically that the someone I might consider a life partner one day had that level of concern for my well-being. And paid attention to my life enough to know when I was taking long drives alone on the highway, etc.
Also, can I just say that we tried to grocery shop together the other day, and he drove me bonkers in the process. THREE TRIPS down the same aisle because he was having trouble comparing the items on the list to the items in the aisle for more than one item at a time. I know he was tired that day. I know *I* was tired that day, and furthermore that I've done the exact same thing from time to time. But it's the first time he's done anything that really just got on my nerves. I had four hours to spend with him, and 3.5 of those hours went to shopping for paper towels and a skillet. And it REALLY got on my nerves. Besides predicting doom and gloom at every turn, that is. That also gets on my nerves. He's very slowly getting better about that one. I just don't know if I have the patience to wait for him to truly overcome this negative tendency of his.
Those are the not-so-happilies.
Fortunately, he loves my cooking. A lot. He's starting to relax enough around me that I believe I'm starting to see the REAL GB, and not the "make a good first impression" GB. And the real GB still walks into the other room to fart so I don't have to smell it, and sits for long periods in uncomfortable positions rather than move me off his chest, when I fall asleep on him by accident. He pauses in the middle of what he's doing to put a finger under my chin just because he's glad I'm there with him. And he continues to work hard at our communication and at figuring out what we're each thinking about our relationship as it unfolds. He still asks me to explain my unconscious sighs, and really appreciates my input on some of his decisions-- before he makes them. He still takes amazingly good care of his dog, though he's gotten fed up with his lazy-ass roommate's lonely teenage cats, and now chases them away whenever he spends time in the main part of the house.
I know nobody's perfect. And I know I enjoy most of our time together. But I find that my tolerance for other people wasting my time is low, and that my high expectations for any relationship I spend time on are still very much in effect. So I'm teetering between awareness that everybody (including me) has their annoying foibles, and the boy is dealing with a lot of challenges and concerns right now-- and a slow insidious loss of interest in those same challenges and concerns because I've been hearing about them for nearly six weeks now. I can't tell if I'm just grumpy, or if there's something deeper I need to notice.
I also can't tell if I'm leery of "waiting it out" because I lost so much time waiting for my ex to get his shit together... and now I'm unfairly unwilling to give anybody a break for having personal challenges to cope with-- or if I'm leery of "waiting it out" because I don't believe it's actually going to go away anytime soon. I just don't know.
So I think for now I'll wait and see. And maybe take a headache pill before I go to bed. Maybe tomorrow I'll finally feel rested when I wake up. I'd like that. And I really REALLY wish I'd had time to stick around and let the GB spoil me with a big home-made breakfast this morning. He planned to do it. But by 9am, he still wasn't out of bed, and I had a day's worth of work to start. So I left. Half an hour after I'd planned to go, once he finished telling me of his morning worry and kissing me goodbye. And I've been damned grumpy about it ever since.
Monday, June 8
Where The Heart Is
SLM-- don't read this right now. It'll only make you cry, and you need to learn to laugh again instead. I love you, my friend. And I am thinking hugs and home-cooked comfort food in your direction, though I know you probably don't feel like eating.
---
I have been sitting here-- and on GB's sofa-- for the past several days, worrying and worrying about money. Feeling that no matter how hard I tried, there would be no way to make ends meet on my own-- or even at all. And I have worried, and cried, and been generally unhappy with the way of my work opportunities and with my own inability to make things work out "right" with my budget this month.
Finally, I sent my best friend an email, with all my worry about money and my dwindling choices packed into it. With my disappointment that I couldn't make my life turn out the way I want it to-- financially.
And she called me back, and told me that her dog-- her best friend of the past thirteen and a half years, since just before she and I became friends-- her Aussie has stopped eating. She is skin and bones, and she is dying. And there is nothing my friend can do to change this reality. There is no way for her to make the outcome what she wants. That she is scared to even consider the future that waits for her after that final trip to the Vet with Aussie tomorrow morning.
And I realized how narrow my worry has been, how shallow. I realized that I am blessed in the most important parts of my life. I have my family, my cat, my friends. I am so rich in love and in having. And I wish with all my heart that my best friend and Aussie could be spared the pain of this loss, the worry and fear of this decision. I wish I could be there to hold them both at the end.
It is in the heart that the greatest tragedies are weathered, and in the heart that the greatest loves and the greatest fears are embraced. And Aussie has been my best friend's heart for so very many years now.
And after we discussed all this in a not-quite direct way, so that we could put off really feeling just how deep this pain goes, just a little longer, and only feel the beginnings of the hole Aussie is leaving in her heart... That's when my best friend turned the conversation to me, and told me that it's okay to need help. It's okay NOT to face everything alone. She reminded me that I've been facing my challenges alone my whole life-- and maybe now that GB is here, it's time to let someone help me. I don't know what it is about death that makes the living so wise... but it does.
And if tears were money, I'd never have to worry about such foolish things as budgets and banks again. I overflow with this terrible richness of feeling. How much worse it must be for her. The sorrow I feel for my friend brings understanding of just how important such a friendship is in my life. In some ways she's right-- I have overcome huge obstacles to reach this point in my life, and I've done it by myself. But yet, she herself (and others like her) has often been there supporting me. And now it is my turn.
Please let me be worthy of the gifts that fill my life. Of the deep friendships, and the trust that is so easily given to me by friends and strangers alike. And let me guide them through their pain and back into harmony with the cycle of life-- as I have been guided by them.
Please don't let Aussie suffer, and help my best friend's heart to heal.
And thank you, whoever you are, for the reminder of what is truly worthy of tears.
---
I have been sitting here-- and on GB's sofa-- for the past several days, worrying and worrying about money. Feeling that no matter how hard I tried, there would be no way to make ends meet on my own-- or even at all. And I have worried, and cried, and been generally unhappy with the way of my work opportunities and with my own inability to make things work out "right" with my budget this month.
Finally, I sent my best friend an email, with all my worry about money and my dwindling choices packed into it. With my disappointment that I couldn't make my life turn out the way I want it to-- financially.
And she called me back, and told me that her dog-- her best friend of the past thirteen and a half years, since just before she and I became friends-- her Aussie has stopped eating. She is skin and bones, and she is dying. And there is nothing my friend can do to change this reality. There is no way for her to make the outcome what she wants. That she is scared to even consider the future that waits for her after that final trip to the Vet with Aussie tomorrow morning.
And I realized how narrow my worry has been, how shallow. I realized that I am blessed in the most important parts of my life. I have my family, my cat, my friends. I am so rich in love and in having. And I wish with all my heart that my best friend and Aussie could be spared the pain of this loss, the worry and fear of this decision. I wish I could be there to hold them both at the end.
It is in the heart that the greatest tragedies are weathered, and in the heart that the greatest loves and the greatest fears are embraced. And Aussie has been my best friend's heart for so very many years now.
And after we discussed all this in a not-quite direct way, so that we could put off really feeling just how deep this pain goes, just a little longer, and only feel the beginnings of the hole Aussie is leaving in her heart... That's when my best friend turned the conversation to me, and told me that it's okay to need help. It's okay NOT to face everything alone. She reminded me that I've been facing my challenges alone my whole life-- and maybe now that GB is here, it's time to let someone help me. I don't know what it is about death that makes the living so wise... but it does.
And if tears were money, I'd never have to worry about such foolish things as budgets and banks again. I overflow with this terrible richness of feeling. How much worse it must be for her. The sorrow I feel for my friend brings understanding of just how important such a friendship is in my life. In some ways she's right-- I have overcome huge obstacles to reach this point in my life, and I've done it by myself. But yet, she herself (and others like her) has often been there supporting me. And now it is my turn.
Please let me be worthy of the gifts that fill my life. Of the deep friendships, and the trust that is so easily given to me by friends and strangers alike. And let me guide them through their pain and back into harmony with the cycle of life-- as I have been guided by them.
Please don't let Aussie suffer, and help my best friend's heart to heal.
And thank you, whoever you are, for the reminder of what is truly worthy of tears.
Tuesday, June 2
Entangled
Well, having done a bit of fishing on that PlentyOfFish site, I actually caught somebody. Or he caught me. Well, regardless, we're spending a lot of time together. So I guess I'm now an advocate of some judicial dating websitery. Though there were quite a few potential catches that I threw back so they'd have more time to mature...
This particular euphamism is SO MUCH FUN TO PLAY WITH!!! Even if I can't spell it.
Ahem-- So. It's been nearly a month since I met the Boy, and he's pretty great. (GB for short-- as in Great Boy) I thought I had these high expectations for the next guy I would willingly get silly over, and I expected that most men I met would just fall way short of those expectations. And I wasn't going to compromise, either. Not this time.
See, I'd finally become ready to pursue dating-- but I sort of had it in the back of my head that I was still probably better off alone. Problem is, GB keeps exceeding those expectations of mine like they don't even exist. He even managed to enjoy himself at my parents' recent "Old Folks" reunion of people who knew each other before I was born. And he didn't even need any babysitting. He just went and blended right in, and ... well, it was pretty cool, really.
And now that I'm officially dating someone specific, I have a whole new list of questions you want to ask after you've been dating for a bit, but probably shouldn't... Like the ones for the initial dating scenario on the right there... only now it's been a few weeks since the first date. And I don't think I'll be posting those questions here. I like making the Boy blush, but only in private.
So he (GB) manages to mix a little bit of Romantic and Self-Confident with a whole lot of Practical and Responsible, and then throws in a heavy-handed shot of Unpredictable. It's the Unpredictable that gives our relationship its kick-- though the original ingredients definitely have their place. See, Unpredictable is a combination of Devilish, Nerdy, Thoughtful, Observant, Devilish, and Sweet.
He's not perfect. Really not. (I do wish he had a little more "communicates current intentions" in him sometimes...) But then, nobody is. I mean, take me, for example. I waited until 20 minutes before I had to leave for an appointment with my cat and her daily dose of medicine, and then I way over-communicated something to BG that I'm not sure *I* understand yet, and burst into tears all over his favorite shirt. (For reasons totally unrelated to him!) It was not my best moment, really.
The good news is that when I did it, he just hugged me, and was all calm and patient and understanding, and then he handed me a cookie and walked me to my car. And when he gets on his "doom and gloom are coming" jags, I'm pretty good at giving him a hug, and pointing out other more positive potential outcomes to the situation he's worried about-- or just something pretty I notice in the real world outside to bring him back to Earth...
The bad news is that we have pretty different tastes in movies and books... And that it's harder than I thought to say what I want and go after it regardless, once I decide to really start caring for somebody. Also, I'm realizing that it will just take a lot of time-- and checking in with MYSELF-- to really know how my expectations and I are doing in this relationship. And I mean both the expectations I have for myself, and for how I'm treated by the Boy.
Funny, that. We're both unused to being with someone so considerate as each other, and I think we have a lot of communication issues to iron out. Well, I do, anyway. A hard thing for me to acknowledge, when I've always been so gifted in the art of communication and understanding others' perspectives and motivations. But I also recognize that this would be true no matter WHICH boy I ended up dating. And I really appreciate that GB and I seem to be equally committed to figuring it all out and actually HAVING GOOD COMMUNICATION. And, really, it's only been a month. If you don't count the time we spent on email before our first date.
We'll see if he's still opening doors for me, and taking time for good two-way communication & clarification, and noticing what kind of ice cream I like-- and then buying a gallon of it for his freezer-- in another few months. We'll see if I've managed to overcome my angst about the many times when his plans and priorities make sense in a linear logical way, but mine make sense in an emotional internal logic sort of way-- and instead of acknowledging our differing priorities, I feel like a fool for not seeing things his way-- once we sort out why neither of us had the outcome we expected just now. And then I get a bit angsty about how difficult my logic is to explain or defend. Which is really a communication problem mixed with a little insecurity. And I suspect the problem isn't all on my side.
We'll see if I'm able to keep my needs and preferences separate in my mind from his-- and if I'm still making ME (and my perfectly appropriate logic) my priority-- in another few months. Because I think that's important to a healthy relationship. And I know from experience that it's really hard for me to do. But if *I* don't stay true to myself, who will?
So here I am. Entangled in my own fishing line, totally thrilled by my awesome catch, and not really sure if I'm strong enough to handle the challenging personal battle he represents. I'm not even sure what kind of fish he is yet. I just hope things stay as good over the long-term as they seem right now. Because they seem pretty awesome from where I'm sitting in this little boat for two.
This particular euphamism is SO MUCH FUN TO PLAY WITH!!! Even if I can't spell it.
Ahem-- So. It's been nearly a month since I met the Boy, and he's pretty great. (GB for short-- as in Great Boy) I thought I had these high expectations for the next guy I would willingly get silly over, and I expected that most men I met would just fall way short of those expectations. And I wasn't going to compromise, either. Not this time.
See, I'd finally become ready to pursue dating-- but I sort of had it in the back of my head that I was still probably better off alone. Problem is, GB keeps exceeding those expectations of mine like they don't even exist. He even managed to enjoy himself at my parents' recent "Old Folks" reunion of people who knew each other before I was born. And he didn't even need any babysitting. He just went and blended right in, and ... well, it was pretty cool, really.
And now that I'm officially dating someone specific, I have a whole new list of questions you want to ask after you've been dating for a bit, but probably shouldn't... Like the ones for the initial dating scenario on the right there... only now it's been a few weeks since the first date. And I don't think I'll be posting those questions here. I like making the Boy blush, but only in private.
So he (GB) manages to mix a little bit of Romantic and Self-Confident with a whole lot of Practical and Responsible, and then throws in a heavy-handed shot of Unpredictable. It's the Unpredictable that gives our relationship its kick-- though the original ingredients definitely have their place. See, Unpredictable is a combination of Devilish, Nerdy, Thoughtful, Observant, Devilish, and Sweet.
He's not perfect. Really not. (I do wish he had a little more "communicates current intentions" in him sometimes...) But then, nobody is. I mean, take me, for example. I waited until 20 minutes before I had to leave for an appointment with my cat and her daily dose of medicine, and then I way over-communicated something to BG that I'm not sure *I* understand yet, and burst into tears all over his favorite shirt. (For reasons totally unrelated to him!) It was not my best moment, really.
The good news is that when I did it, he just hugged me, and was all calm and patient and understanding, and then he handed me a cookie and walked me to my car. And when he gets on his "doom and gloom are coming" jags, I'm pretty good at giving him a hug, and pointing out other more positive potential outcomes to the situation he's worried about-- or just something pretty I notice in the real world outside to bring him back to Earth...
The bad news is that we have pretty different tastes in movies and books... And that it's harder than I thought to say what I want and go after it regardless, once I decide to really start caring for somebody. Also, I'm realizing that it will just take a lot of time-- and checking in with MYSELF-- to really know how my expectations and I are doing in this relationship. And I mean both the expectations I have for myself, and for how I'm treated by the Boy.
Funny, that. We're both unused to being with someone so considerate as each other, and I think we have a lot of communication issues to iron out. Well, I do, anyway. A hard thing for me to acknowledge, when I've always been so gifted in the art of communication and understanding others' perspectives and motivations. But I also recognize that this would be true no matter WHICH boy I ended up dating. And I really appreciate that GB and I seem to be equally committed to figuring it all out and actually HAVING GOOD COMMUNICATION. And, really, it's only been a month. If you don't count the time we spent on email before our first date.
We'll see if he's still opening doors for me, and taking time for good two-way communication & clarification, and noticing what kind of ice cream I like-- and then buying a gallon of it for his freezer-- in another few months. We'll see if I've managed to overcome my angst about the many times when his plans and priorities make sense in a linear logical way, but mine make sense in an emotional internal logic sort of way-- and instead of acknowledging our differing priorities, I feel like a fool for not seeing things his way-- once we sort out why neither of us had the outcome we expected just now. And then I get a bit angsty about how difficult my logic is to explain or defend. Which is really a communication problem mixed with a little insecurity. And I suspect the problem isn't all on my side.
We'll see if I'm able to keep my needs and preferences separate in my mind from his-- and if I'm still making ME (and my perfectly appropriate logic) my priority-- in another few months. Because I think that's important to a healthy relationship. And I know from experience that it's really hard for me to do. But if *I* don't stay true to myself, who will?
So here I am. Entangled in my own fishing line, totally thrilled by my awesome catch, and not really sure if I'm strong enough to handle the challenging personal battle he represents. I'm not even sure what kind of fish he is yet. I just hope things stay as good over the long-term as they seem right now. Because they seem pretty awesome from where I'm sitting in this little boat for two.
Sunday, May 3
Gone Fishin
So, having decided I'm ready to date... and being a woman of action...
I've informed my friends I'm available to be set up (in a good way). And then I joined a dating site. Well, actually, I joined TWO dating sites. And the first thing I learned was that the free ones work just as well as the costly ones (I'm not paying, thank you). The second thing I learned was that dating websites are popular BY REGION. So the one that works for my bff in Philly just ain't cutting it here in my neck of the Western Woods.
HOWEVER, there's another free one that my awesome housemate introduced me to, and It's called PlentyofFish. Aptly named. And then I discovered that there are RULES. UNWRITTEN RULES about using dating websites. Like-- the boys I'm emailing with all asked me a deeper relationship question ON THE FOURTH EMAIL, so apparently three good exchanges are the magic number. And boys may ask lots of leading questions about places you like to go and things you like to do... but they don't actually ask you to DO ANY OF THEM. And on the public conversation threads, questions for girls to answer are actually answered JUST AS OFTEN BY BOYS. They just don't read directions, do they. And not only that, but the boys who come across via email as "shy" seem to have gotten favorable rating stars on their profiles more often than boys who come across as Lotharios or jocks. You know how it goes-- the quiet ones usually have a lot more going on than the braggarts.
Luckily, I also got some great advice, and some great pumping up of my ego, from two of my favorite male friends, before I went fishing for boys on the interweb. And, they tell me that since THEY are boys, too, their advice is very good indeed.
So, per the advice of happily married male experts everywhere, I am being a bit selfish, very self-confident, and I am calling all the shots MY WAY. It's quite fun.
And as a result, I am now looking forward to meeting someone (who sounds really cool, very intelligent, and has an awesome motorcycle and a really cool job fighting fires and setting up aid stations after natural disasters) in a very public place to walk, talk, and find out what kind of vibe I get from him in person-- later this week. And this is after telling him I'm divorced and I'm worried about his self-esteem. Nice, huh?
I've also been invited on a hike by another nice-sounding local man, who is definitely in better shape than I am, and has now reassured me TWICE that he grew up in a household where his mom worked and his dad raised the kids, and so he's really into equality. But I'm going to run that one by some friends first. It's not as public as I'd like for a first meeting. But it's a hike I've never done in an area I told him I like hiking, and he's already made two other semi-suggestions that I vetoed. I'm really glad he keeps trying. He sounds nice. And that's to say nothing of Kirk, who lives on a farm and raises organic wheat grass for smoothies. He's shy.
The rest of the advice, which I'm keeping carefully in mind-- per my tendency to care a lot about others' well-being-- is that apparently, it is good for boys to cry into their beers over a woman once in a while. And that I'm worth going to a lot of trouble for.
Whyever it is, this advice TOTALLY freed me from guilt, worry, or nerves while "fishing." And I expect it to continue to serve me well in actual meetings with boys, and even potential SECOND MEETINGS WITH BOYS. (Look out, Trouble! I'm coming to visit, and somebody else is paying the tab!!) I love my friends.
The most bizarre thing I've learned about dating websites is that 90% of the men on them (at least in my age group) are divorced, and 75% of those have their kids on alternating weekends. Don't know why that surprised me so much... All these divorced men with kids in their early thirties.
And I find that while I'm not sure I want to make babies of my own, I don't mind the idea of occasional visits from other peoples' babies. And I have more respect for the guys who put it RIGHT OUT FRONT that whoever dates them has to understand that their kids come first. As well they should, I say! However, I'm also just as glad that the two guys I'm probably going to meet soonest don't have kids. Or so they tell me.
And the photo I used on my profile? It's of me on the beach in the middle of winter. I'm bundled head-to-toe, but I'm also totally happy because I'm on the beach. So these guys aren't picking me for my bra size. I'm sneaky like that.
So, you know, adventures in dating. I'll keep you posted.
I've informed my friends I'm available to be set up (in a good way). And then I joined a dating site. Well, actually, I joined TWO dating sites. And the first thing I learned was that the free ones work just as well as the costly ones (I'm not paying, thank you). The second thing I learned was that dating websites are popular BY REGION. So the one that works for my bff in Philly just ain't cutting it here in my neck of the Western Woods.
HOWEVER, there's another free one that my awesome housemate introduced me to, and It's called PlentyofFish. Aptly named. And then I discovered that there are RULES. UNWRITTEN RULES about using dating websites. Like-- the boys I'm emailing with all asked me a deeper relationship question ON THE FOURTH EMAIL, so apparently three good exchanges are the magic number. And boys may ask lots of leading questions about places you like to go and things you like to do... but they don't actually ask you to DO ANY OF THEM. And on the public conversation threads, questions for girls to answer are actually answered JUST AS OFTEN BY BOYS. They just don't read directions, do they. And not only that, but the boys who come across via email as "shy" seem to have gotten favorable rating stars on their profiles more often than boys who come across as Lotharios or jocks. You know how it goes-- the quiet ones usually have a lot more going on than the braggarts.
Luckily, I also got some great advice, and some great pumping up of my ego, from two of my favorite male friends, before I went fishing for boys on the interweb. And, they tell me that since THEY are boys, too, their advice is very good indeed.
So, per the advice of happily married male experts everywhere, I am being a bit selfish, very self-confident, and I am calling all the shots MY WAY. It's quite fun.
And as a result, I am now looking forward to meeting someone (who sounds really cool, very intelligent, and has an awesome motorcycle and a really cool job fighting fires and setting up aid stations after natural disasters) in a very public place to walk, talk, and find out what kind of vibe I get from him in person-- later this week. And this is after telling him I'm divorced and I'm worried about his self-esteem. Nice, huh?
I've also been invited on a hike by another nice-sounding local man, who is definitely in better shape than I am, and has now reassured me TWICE that he grew up in a household where his mom worked and his dad raised the kids, and so he's really into equality. But I'm going to run that one by some friends first. It's not as public as I'd like for a first meeting. But it's a hike I've never done in an area I told him I like hiking, and he's already made two other semi-suggestions that I vetoed. I'm really glad he keeps trying. He sounds nice. And that's to say nothing of Kirk, who lives on a farm and raises organic wheat grass for smoothies. He's shy.
The rest of the advice, which I'm keeping carefully in mind-- per my tendency to care a lot about others' well-being-- is that apparently, it is good for boys to cry into their beers over a woman once in a while. And that I'm worth going to a lot of trouble for.
Whyever it is, this advice TOTALLY freed me from guilt, worry, or nerves while "fishing." And I expect it to continue to serve me well in actual meetings with boys, and even potential SECOND MEETINGS WITH BOYS. (Look out, Trouble! I'm coming to visit, and somebody else is paying the tab!!) I love my friends.
The most bizarre thing I've learned about dating websites is that 90% of the men on them (at least in my age group) are divorced, and 75% of those have their kids on alternating weekends. Don't know why that surprised me so much... All these divorced men with kids in their early thirties.
And I find that while I'm not sure I want to make babies of my own, I don't mind the idea of occasional visits from other peoples' babies. And I have more respect for the guys who put it RIGHT OUT FRONT that whoever dates them has to understand that their kids come first. As well they should, I say! However, I'm also just as glad that the two guys I'm probably going to meet soonest don't have kids. Or so they tell me.
And the photo I used on my profile? It's of me on the beach in the middle of winter. I'm bundled head-to-toe, but I'm also totally happy because I'm on the beach. So these guys aren't picking me for my bra size. I'm sneaky like that.
So, you know, adventures in dating. I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, April 29
At the Root
I've been working to strengthen my Root Chakra lately. (Strength is important-- particularly when you've got a cat lying on your arms and you're trying to type.) It has been a roller-coaster couple of weeks, and the timing for having my Root Chakra nice and strong couldn't be better.
Calamity comes in all shapes and sizes, and a bunch of my dear friends have been faced with one calamity or another in the past week or two. And it's a relief to support them all without having to also feel all their pain for them. At this point, I've done enough work as a Life Coach to be able to separate what *I* am feeling on my own behalf from what I am feeling on SOMEONE ELSE'S behalf.
And so I was tired from all the energy I (gladly) used in support of my friends coping with life-crisis stuff... but I wasn't emotionally overwhelmed or incapacitated by all the grief. And I'm really proud of myself for that.
The Root Chakra, by the way, is the one in charge of our connection with the Earth, our sense of security and belonging, our financial and physical well-being, our safety, our solidity in whatever we are trying to accomplish with our lives, and our groundedness. (is that a word?) And each chakra has a specific "right" attached to it-- like the right to bare arms, only that isn't one of them. For the Root Chakra, you have the right to be here; and the right to have.
It was a weird sort of awareness for me to realize that I've spent most of my life working really hard to make other people look good, and help other people achieve their dreams/goals/successes. And I've spent the last several years not really believing I had a right to my own success, or to use my skills and experiences and abilities to make MYSELF look good. No wonder it's been so hard to find a good-paying job. I never felt like I deserved one!
Over the past few weeks, I've made a point of focusing on my Root Chakra, and being grounded in my right to have, for a few minutes every day. And I can feel the difference. I'm a lot better grounded than I was a few weeks ago. Thank goodness, considering all the challenges that have come up since then.
Even the visit to the Family Farm couldn't have been better-timed. OH-- and I finally broke down and bought some freeze-dried nettle leaf capsules (instead of relying solely on my home-brew nettle tincture)-- and they are SO controlling my allergies with NO side effects!!! YAY for uninterrupted sleep!! (Except of course, that Abbigale continues to throw up a little too frequently this week, and I had to jump out of bed an hour before my alarm so I could give her some tummy meds-- which did work this time, thank goodness!)
Calamity comes in all shapes and sizes, and a bunch of my dear friends have been faced with one calamity or another in the past week or two. And it's a relief to support them all without having to also feel all their pain for them. At this point, I've done enough work as a Life Coach to be able to separate what *I* am feeling on my own behalf from what I am feeling on SOMEONE ELSE'S behalf.
And so I was tired from all the energy I (gladly) used in support of my friends coping with life-crisis stuff... but I wasn't emotionally overwhelmed or incapacitated by all the grief. And I'm really proud of myself for that.
The Root Chakra, by the way, is the one in charge of our connection with the Earth, our sense of security and belonging, our financial and physical well-being, our safety, our solidity in whatever we are trying to accomplish with our lives, and our groundedness. (is that a word?) And each chakra has a specific "right" attached to it-- like the right to bare arms, only that isn't one of them. For the Root Chakra, you have the right to be here; and the right to have.
It was a weird sort of awareness for me to realize that I've spent most of my life working really hard to make other people look good, and help other people achieve their dreams/goals/successes. And I've spent the last several years not really believing I had a right to my own success, or to use my skills and experiences and abilities to make MYSELF look good. No wonder it's been so hard to find a good-paying job. I never felt like I deserved one!
Over the past few weeks, I've made a point of focusing on my Root Chakra, and being grounded in my right to have, for a few minutes every day. And I can feel the difference. I'm a lot better grounded than I was a few weeks ago. Thank goodness, considering all the challenges that have come up since then.
Even the visit to the Family Farm couldn't have been better-timed. OH-- and I finally broke down and bought some freeze-dried nettle leaf capsules (instead of relying solely on my home-brew nettle tincture)-- and they are SO controlling my allergies with NO side effects!!! YAY for uninterrupted sleep!! (Except of course, that Abbigale continues to throw up a little too frequently this week, and I had to jump out of bed an hour before my alarm so I could give her some tummy meds-- which did work this time, thank goodness!)
Friday, April 24
Muckelicious
Today, I mucked out a barn.
Back a few months ago when I dreamed of myself doing this, I woke in utter disbelief that such could EVER be true. I mean, this is ME we're talking about. But today, it was. I actually volunteered.
See, through one of the random blogs that I follow-- maybe it was one about urban homesteading, or no-- maybe that one about sustainability and farms or, well, maybe one of my "tiny house" blogs-- anyway, I found a link to this one Family Farm. And discovered that they need volunteers, and they give you a whole talk-and-tour to get you familiar with the farm and the jobs that need doing.
And I thought-- Hey. I want to create a mini homestead/garden/farm someday when I've paid off my debts and have enough money to buy a bit of south-slope land... Maybe I should get a better idea of what I'm getting into. Maybe I should find out what it's REALLY like to have an organic garden and some goats and chickens and sheep, etc.
So today was Orientation Day for volunteers at the Family Farm. I love it out there. It really reaffirmed that what I want is attainable, and that I'd be happy having it. It also reaffirmed something I already knew-- Goats like me. I mean, these were just generally friendly goats and all, but... seriously. Goats like me.
It took two hours to meet all the creatures and see all the watering buckets/troughs/etc that need regular cleaning and filling (one of the four approved jobs for volunteers on the farm-- mucking out the three barns, the chicken coops, and the mini barn that houses Waldo is another). Then, since I did drive a whole hour to GET there, I decided I had time to muck out one of the barns. And I did have time. What I didn't have was stamina.
So the biggest, stinkiest, most-in-need-of-mucking barn has three sections. I did the biggest one. And I couldn't do any more. In fact, I'm really glad my blister didn't get a blister. I'm even MORE glad I thought to bring my work gloves. And I'm glad I didn't fall asleep on the drive home from the farm. Since I was the one driving. But seriously, I was that worn out. Muck is heavy.
I've got some researching to do for them from home, and I think I'll try to make it out again in a couple three weeks to do something slightly less intense like watering the chickens or something. I'm definitely going back. And I'm definitely sleeping well tonight. Just as soon as I rinse out my nose with something that doesn't smell like the month-old backside of a male goat. Apparently, the male goats stink more than the females. Made perfect sense to me.
And when I get my own land, I'm starting with vegetables. And herbs. And a couple of fruit trees. And maybe a few chickens. But nothing that requires mucking. Or castrating. And I learned that I need to add an "egg-cleaning station" to my dream home design. And probably a small barn to store all my gardening equipment, my spare bales of hay, my chickens, my wheelbarrows, and the muck I buy from my neighbors once or twice a year.
sigh... Who knew bliss would smell like THAT?!
Back a few months ago when I dreamed of myself doing this, I woke in utter disbelief that such could EVER be true. I mean, this is ME we're talking about. But today, it was. I actually volunteered.
See, through one of the random blogs that I follow-- maybe it was one about urban homesteading, or no-- maybe that one about sustainability and farms or, well, maybe one of my "tiny house" blogs-- anyway, I found a link to this one Family Farm. And discovered that they need volunteers, and they give you a whole talk-and-tour to get you familiar with the farm and the jobs that need doing.
And I thought-- Hey. I want to create a mini homestead/garden/farm someday when I've paid off my debts and have enough money to buy a bit of south-slope land... Maybe I should get a better idea of what I'm getting into. Maybe I should find out what it's REALLY like to have an organic garden and some goats and chickens and sheep, etc.
So today was Orientation Day for volunteers at the Family Farm. I love it out there. It really reaffirmed that what I want is attainable, and that I'd be happy having it. It also reaffirmed something I already knew-- Goats like me. I mean, these were just generally friendly goats and all, but... seriously. Goats like me.
It took two hours to meet all the creatures and see all the watering buckets/troughs/etc that need regular cleaning and filling (one of the four approved jobs for volunteers on the farm-- mucking out the three barns, the chicken coops, and the mini barn that houses Waldo is another). Then, since I did drive a whole hour to GET there, I decided I had time to muck out one of the barns. And I did have time. What I didn't have was stamina.
So the biggest, stinkiest, most-in-need-of-mucking barn has three sections. I did the biggest one. And I couldn't do any more. In fact, I'm really glad my blister didn't get a blister. I'm even MORE glad I thought to bring my work gloves. And I'm glad I didn't fall asleep on the drive home from the farm. Since I was the one driving. But seriously, I was that worn out. Muck is heavy.
I've got some researching to do for them from home, and I think I'll try to make it out again in a couple three weeks to do something slightly less intense like watering the chickens or something. I'm definitely going back. And I'm definitely sleeping well tonight. Just as soon as I rinse out my nose with something that doesn't smell like the month-old backside of a male goat. Apparently, the male goats stink more than the females. Made perfect sense to me.
And when I get my own land, I'm starting with vegetables. And herbs. And a couple of fruit trees. And maybe a few chickens. But nothing that requires mucking. Or castrating. And I learned that I need to add an "egg-cleaning station" to my dream home design. And probably a small barn to store all my gardening equipment, my spare bales of hay, my chickens, my wheelbarrows, and the muck I buy from my neighbors once or twice a year.
sigh... Who knew bliss would smell like THAT?!
Saturday, April 18
Communi-Que?
Can I just tell you how much I love my writing group? And also Crazy Aunt Purl. And possibly a few other folks as well, but I haven't gotten very far in catching up on my emails lately, so I'll have to get back to you on that.
The e-correspondence for my writing group over the past few days looked something like this:
J: I think we're down two people this week, so probably that makes eight, plus the two of us who lead the writing group, so I think you need to bring ten copies of your work this week. But I could be wrong. (actually, she meant eight INCLUDING the two leaders, but five people showed up, plus the two leaders, so that made seven)
H: Sorry I missed y'all, but I had car problems, and I'm looking forward to next week.
D: Well, we all voted, and GOOD NEWS! Everybody except R decided to give you one last chance!
H: Where does R live?
(insert shark music here!)
D: Under the Chevy's downtown.
R: Hah! Joke's on you, D. I moved out from under the Chevy's as soon as you tracked me down. Well, actually, I just moved in deeper to avoid all the rats... And H? I misunderstood the vote. I thought we were voting to give you one last dance, and I didn't think it was fair that you were the only one getting to dance. Sorry.
H: Too late, R. Sleep with one eye open.
J: Oh, and thanks to H and D for giving me more background info on R when I give his intro at the Reading Event tonight!
OMFG-- I think I nearly coughed up a lung from laughing too hard with a head cold!
I realized why these folks are so helpful and so much fun when I bring in bits of my own story to read to them every Wednesday night. Then I read the latest blog entry for Crazy Aunt Purl. Again-- laughter can be such a healing medicine! I can't believe-- and yet I so CAN believe-- that she wrote a note to her auto mechanic while he was serving time "up north" because she had a question about converting her jeep from gas to vegetable oil (or maybe cat poop, since she has a ready supply of it).
Maybe I'm not so crazy for volunteering to help muck out a stable at a local farm just so I can see what farmlife is like-- and for writing that email that said, "Wow, you guys are cool! and also, if you are looking to hire a librarian with social skills, I'm available." to a local green home building company I found online.
In other news, I recently had an interview with a big city library system, so I could get on the list of folks they'll notify if they decide to accept applications for any open positions in their libraries. I was actually rather concerned that I'd flopped. Ninety minutes of interview, including a pointed grilling on my complete lack of knowledge about practical adult reference services, a book-talk presentation I put together with a teen audience in mind (I actually used a really cool hip word the interviewers didn't know-- don't tell them I made it up, k?), and an outline for a toddler storyhour, including a five-minute sample of my "storytime reading skills." I knew I represented myself and my skills fairly accurately... But I also know those skills are getting rusty with disuse, and it shows.
Imagine my joy and utter amazement to finally check email this afternoon, and find that I've qualified for ALL THREE AREAS of reference services-- adult, teen, and children. WAHOO!! Of course, now I'm waiting around to hear of any job openings that come up, and that they decide they'd like me to apply for. But I was impressed by the library system and the teen book selection there. I think I'd enjoy working for them, and I'm actually hoping to hear back soon.
You never know. Stranger things have definitely happened.
The e-correspondence for my writing group over the past few days looked something like this:
J: I think we're down two people this week, so probably that makes eight, plus the two of us who lead the writing group, so I think you need to bring ten copies of your work this week. But I could be wrong. (actually, she meant eight INCLUDING the two leaders, but five people showed up, plus the two leaders, so that made seven)
H: Sorry I missed y'all, but I had car problems, and I'm looking forward to next week.
D: Well, we all voted, and GOOD NEWS! Everybody except R decided to give you one last chance!
H: Where does R live?
(insert shark music here!)
D: Under the Chevy's downtown.
R: Hah! Joke's on you, D. I moved out from under the Chevy's as soon as you tracked me down. Well, actually, I just moved in deeper to avoid all the rats... And H? I misunderstood the vote. I thought we were voting to give you one last dance, and I didn't think it was fair that you were the only one getting to dance. Sorry.
H: Too late, R. Sleep with one eye open.
J: Oh, and thanks to H and D for giving me more background info on R when I give his intro at the Reading Event tonight!
OMFG-- I think I nearly coughed up a lung from laughing too hard with a head cold!
I realized why these folks are so helpful and so much fun when I bring in bits of my own story to read to them every Wednesday night. Then I read the latest blog entry for Crazy Aunt Purl. Again-- laughter can be such a healing medicine! I can't believe-- and yet I so CAN believe-- that she wrote a note to her auto mechanic while he was serving time "up north" because she had a question about converting her jeep from gas to vegetable oil (or maybe cat poop, since she has a ready supply of it).
Maybe I'm not so crazy for volunteering to help muck out a stable at a local farm just so I can see what farmlife is like-- and for writing that email that said, "Wow, you guys are cool! and also, if you are looking to hire a librarian with social skills, I'm available." to a local green home building company I found online.
In other news, I recently had an interview with a big city library system, so I could get on the list of folks they'll notify if they decide to accept applications for any open positions in their libraries. I was actually rather concerned that I'd flopped. Ninety minutes of interview, including a pointed grilling on my complete lack of knowledge about practical adult reference services, a book-talk presentation I put together with a teen audience in mind (I actually used a really cool hip word the interviewers didn't know-- don't tell them I made it up, k?), and an outline for a toddler storyhour, including a five-minute sample of my "storytime reading skills." I knew I represented myself and my skills fairly accurately... But I also know those skills are getting rusty with disuse, and it shows.
Imagine my joy and utter amazement to finally check email this afternoon, and find that I've qualified for ALL THREE AREAS of reference services-- adult, teen, and children. WAHOO!! Of course, now I'm waiting around to hear of any job openings that come up, and that they decide they'd like me to apply for. But I was impressed by the library system and the teen book selection there. I think I'd enjoy working for them, and I'm actually hoping to hear back soon.
You never know. Stranger things have definitely happened.
Wednesday, March 25
Convergence
So I've been going through a month-long five-step interview process with a company I'd like to work for. They help new college students handle the challenges of school, balance other demands on their time and energy, and access resources that will ultimately help those students stay in school, graduate, and meet their personal goals.
I'm also having this interesting awareness that I thought I'd share--
I was writing my book, and writing about the "standard solgdier" lifestyle. How he usually has a buzz-cut and a big-ass man-truck with a killer stereo. How he loves to eat beef, and prays to God before dinner every night. How nearly everyone who populates his world is physically fit, heterosexual, and between the ages of 18-45. And I got to "talking" about how different Agrmy social norms are from Civilian ones. Here's a piece of what I wrote:
In many ways, I still haven’t finished assimilating into this larger and more diverse civil society. For example, an Agrmy Wife could not be friends with a man who was not her husband. It raised eyebrows. Just being seen riding in a car with a man who was not your husband was enough to make you a hot topic at the next FRG potluck. Is she having an affair? Does her husband know? Is her husband away on a mission right now? Does anybody here have a husband who knows the poor bastard well enough to tell him about his wife’s affair when he gets home?
I met a married friend for dinner at a noisy sushi restaurant the other day. We were discussing his research and my job search, so he suggested sitting beside me at the oversized table, instead of across from me. It’d be easier to hear without spitting at each other and yelling out about this book he’s writing about a lesbian love affair in the 12th century. Already nervous about having dinner with my friend, and not his wife (to whom I know he is totally devoted), I had to stop and think about what it means to sit on the same side of the table as a married man in a civilian context. I only knew what it meant in the mgilitary one. Of course, in the mgilitary, we wouldn’t have been eating a meal together, or discussing lesbian love affairs and 12th century politics, at all.
Of course, in this new context, and with this particular person, it didn't mean anything at all, except that the restaurant was noisy! It's just interesting to realize that I became an adult while inside the mgilitary arena, and that I've had to learn to be an adult all over again as a civilian.
And there are still occasionally situations that I haven't dealt with in a civilian context. When they come up, I'm reminded all over again of this clash between what I originally learned, and what is appropriate/real now. I guess I'm a life-long-learner on many different fronts indeed.
Another facet of this process occurred in my "job-shadow" interview yesterday. I was talking with one of the Student Coaches, and she told me that part of her strategy for working with these college students is to realize that nobody makes huge life-altering changes. To be realistic in helping them set goals, and in recognizing that "success" and "progress" for a student with poor study skills and a terrible GPA is different than for a prize pupil. According to her experience, after working with hundreds of new students, the goal is to help these students see their current situation clearly, and then take baby steps forward from there. And I don't know that I particularly disagree...
But I had to realize that part of what sets me apart from general society is the fact that I've made huge life-altering changes in who I am and how I operate and process new information and make decisions MANY TIMES. That I'm not afraid of learning new and better ways to be. (Though LB can tell you just how stubborn I am about asking for help-- I'm still working on that one.)
I've had a lot of fear and challenges in the past few years. But in the past few months, since I got serious about writing this book that remembers my life in the Argmy, I've also had a lot of examples presented to me of just what seriously tough shit I've lived through, what unfair or unexpected challenges I've overcome, and how strong and neat of a person I really am now, on the far side of those major life- and self-changes. I'm proud of who I am now, and I'm learning to appreciate just how awesome my accomplishments in this lifetime are. It's heartening, when so many other things seem to be falling apart.
I'm also having this interesting awareness that I thought I'd share--
I was writing my book, and writing about the "standard solgdier" lifestyle. How he usually has a buzz-cut and a big-ass man-truck with a killer stereo. How he loves to eat beef, and prays to God before dinner every night. How nearly everyone who populates his world is physically fit, heterosexual, and between the ages of 18-45. And I got to "talking" about how different Agrmy social norms are from Civilian ones. Here's a piece of what I wrote:
In many ways, I still haven’t finished assimilating into this larger and more diverse civil society. For example, an Agrmy Wife could not be friends with a man who was not her husband. It raised eyebrows. Just being seen riding in a car with a man who was not your husband was enough to make you a hot topic at the next FRG potluck. Is she having an affair? Does her husband know? Is her husband away on a mission right now? Does anybody here have a husband who knows the poor bastard well enough to tell him about his wife’s affair when he gets home?
I met a married friend for dinner at a noisy sushi restaurant the other day. We were discussing his research and my job search, so he suggested sitting beside me at the oversized table, instead of across from me. It’d be easier to hear without spitting at each other and yelling out about this book he’s writing about a lesbian love affair in the 12th century. Already nervous about having dinner with my friend, and not his wife (to whom I know he is totally devoted), I had to stop and think about what it means to sit on the same side of the table as a married man in a civilian context. I only knew what it meant in the mgilitary one. Of course, in the mgilitary, we wouldn’t have been eating a meal together, or discussing lesbian love affairs and 12th century politics, at all.
Of course, in this new context, and with this particular person, it didn't mean anything at all, except that the restaurant was noisy! It's just interesting to realize that I became an adult while inside the mgilitary arena, and that I've had to learn to be an adult all over again as a civilian.
And there are still occasionally situations that I haven't dealt with in a civilian context. When they come up, I'm reminded all over again of this clash between what I originally learned, and what is appropriate/real now. I guess I'm a life-long-learner on many different fronts indeed.
Another facet of this process occurred in my "job-shadow" interview yesterday. I was talking with one of the Student Coaches, and she told me that part of her strategy for working with these college students is to realize that nobody makes huge life-altering changes. To be realistic in helping them set goals, and in recognizing that "success" and "progress" for a student with poor study skills and a terrible GPA is different than for a prize pupil. According to her experience, after working with hundreds of new students, the goal is to help these students see their current situation clearly, and then take baby steps forward from there. And I don't know that I particularly disagree...
But I had to realize that part of what sets me apart from general society is the fact that I've made huge life-altering changes in who I am and how I operate and process new information and make decisions MANY TIMES. That I'm not afraid of learning new and better ways to be. (Though LB can tell you just how stubborn I am about asking for help-- I'm still working on that one.)
I've had a lot of fear and challenges in the past few years. But in the past few months, since I got serious about writing this book that remembers my life in the Argmy, I've also had a lot of examples presented to me of just what seriously tough shit I've lived through, what unfair or unexpected challenges I've overcome, and how strong and neat of a person I really am now, on the far side of those major life- and self-changes. I'm proud of who I am now, and I'm learning to appreciate just how awesome my accomplishments in this lifetime are. It's heartening, when so many other things seem to be falling apart.
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