A Slap In the Face...

I’ve mentioned that my ex is Mexican. Born and partly-raised in San Antonio, Texas, Spanish was his first language. But his mother separated him from his extended family and his culture when he was very young, so there is little about him that speaks to his heritage (beyond his love of Corona and homemade tortillas), except for his looks. He’s very dark – skin, hair, personality (though I’m sure the personality part is just him and not due to his ethnicity). I think his looks are what drew me to him in the first place (it certainly wasn’t his sparkling wit). Though I don’t have a ‘type’ and have been attracted to many (vastly) different men in my life, I do like dark looks as a rule.

The summer after we got married, we drove from Virginia to Texas to visit his family. The best man in our wedding, who happens to be Filipino (and also very dark), came with us. On our way home, after more than a week in the Texas sun, we stopped at a Tastee-Freez in Podunk, Arkansas for lunch. The parking lot was full of pick-up trucks and Harley Davidsons and the diner was full of rednecks and Hell’s Angel types.

When we walked in – one whiter-than-white girl sandwiched between two very brown boys – the whole place got quiet. People actually stopped eating and stared at us. They whispered behind their hands. It was very disconcerting and I tried to tell myself we were in a small town, off the beaten path, where everyone knew everyone else, and they were just wondering who we were. But I knew that wasn’t it. We looked different from anyone in the place. Well, I didn’t, but my ex and our friend did. Uncomfortable, we got our food to go and left. Back in the car, we made light of the situation, joking that the Tastee-Freez gang probably thought I’d been kidnapped by two ‘foreigners.’

Sometimes bigotry just slaps you in the face.

You wouldn’t think that I, the whiter-than-white girl, would have had occasion to feel the sting but, in fact, bigotry has slapped me more than once. Since I was a teenager I’ve surrounded myself with people who are different from me in various ways and my association with them has often resulted in prejudice rearing its ugly head. Most of the time it's come from strangers but, sadly, there have been times when its ugly head has been masked by the faces of a few of my own family members. I remember the first time it happened – the shock and disappointment and sadness and anger I felt. I remember the last time it happened – the shock and disappointment and sadness and anger I felt. I hate it when it happens.

I’ve taught my daughter to be proud of her beautiful brown skin and the features that affirm her Hispanic and Native American heritage. I’ve also taught her that what’s far more important is what’s inside her heart and her head; that we are all people first and foremost. Our ethnic, cultural, religious, spiritual, and educational differences are important, because they are what help to make us individuals, but we can peacefully co-exist, regardless of how different we are. We can and should embrace the things in ourselves that set us apart and learn from others, taking what we love for our own lives, respecting what we don’t.

And she gets it. She’s accepting of everyone; she sees our ethnic differences and she appreciates them; she doesn’t view them as a barrier. Her idea of beauty encompasses the typical and the atypical. Even at nine, she thinks on a surprisingly global scale. She tries to understand the things that make us different… she’s still working on the whole respecting part in some cases (but to be fair, so am I).

This morning she told me a little girl in her class couldn’t do a report on James Armistead Lafayette, one of the most famous patriots during the Revolutionary War, because he was black and her father wouldn’t allow information about him in their house. This is the same child who wasn’t allowed to attend a play about Martin Luther King last week, or perform during the Christmas show because one song was being sung in Spanish. When I heard about all of these things, I felt sick and sad and angry. I asked Ryan what she said to the little girl…

Ry: I just told her that she doesn’t have to think like her dad, Mommy. I said that I hope she doesn’t think that way because if she does, we won’t be able to be friends, since she won’t approve of me or my family. (Note that Ryan has cousins who are half-Mexican and half-black)

Me: What did she say?

Ry: She said she likes me and she doesn’t think like that.

Me: Good. Then there’s hope.

I simply don’t understand the pervading mentality of intolerance for diversity and cultural differences that exists in our world. I believe it will destroy us if we can’t, as a race – the human race, change our thinking. When I spend time with my friends in ‘real’ life and in Blogland, I’m lulled into thinking that everything is changing. Then I get slapped again and I feel the sting. But kids like Ryan soothe it. I just hope there are enough kids growing up now to soothe the world. Kids like these little ones...

Not Just Older...

Do you know who this woman is?

No, she’s not the Amazing Albino Woman of Pigsknuckle (good guess, though). Nor is she the Borg Queen on her wedding day. She is Jennifer Figge, a 56-year-old American woman who just completed a 2,000 mile swim across the Atlantic, from the Cape Verde Islands to Trinidad. She’s 56. And she swam 2,000 miles, my friends (yes, I know I said it twice… it was for effect). I calculated the other day how many laps I’d have to swim to cover just two miles and I felt a little ill. So, in my book, even though she’s not albino, Pigsknucklian, or Borg, she is still pretty damned amazing.

Reading about her swim was a good thing for me to do this week. You know how you feel when your birthday approaches? Those of you under 30 have possibly never experienced this (mark my words, though... you will), but you spend a good bit of time thinking about how old you’re getting and what you have or haven’t accomplished in your life (and unfortunately, it’s usually the haven’ts that stick out). You think about your regrets and your ‘coulda/shoulda/wouldas’. You re-evaluate the direction in which you’re moving (or aren’t), as well as your goals. You dig out your Bucket List and realize there are still a whole lotta un-done items on it.

Yeah. That’s where I’ve been for the past couple of weeks (and by ‘weeks’, I mean ‘years’). Right. In. That. Spot. Don't get me wrong... I like being in my 40's. I wouldn't go back. But I haven't done enough with them yet.

I read this great magazine regularly… More. It’s designed for women over 40 and its mission is to show us all that, if we choose, we can see the 2nd half of our lives as a new beginning… or the beginning, for those of us who put ourselves and the business of living on hold for whatever reason. Every month I grab it up and settle in with a cup of tea to read about women in their 40’s and 50’s and 60’s, who are doing amazing things, often for the first time. And I’m reminded that like them, I am getting older. And like them, I can choose to do things I’ve never done. I can choose a new direction for my life if I’m not happy with the old one. I can choose to take full advantage of the freedom that comes with age – that wonderful sense of ‘I don’t really give a flip what people think.’ I have no choice about getting older (the alternative, quite frankly, sucks), but I can choose to get better.

So Jennifer Figge has been added to my hero list. Not because she swam 2,000 miles (but damn, people… 2,000 miles!). No, she’s my new hero because she believed she could do it, even though logic and common sense (and probably a fair number of relatively sane people) told her it was a task not worth taking on at 56.

I’m guessing Jennifer Figge thinks she’s getting better with age. And I’m choosing to travel that road, too. I’m just not going swim it. Just sayin’.

Note: There seems to be some dispute regarding exactly how many miles Jennifer Figge swam and it seems her total is much less than originally reported. Regardless, in my book, she still did a pretty amazing thing, so I'm not removing her from my hero list!

I Heart...

I heart the world tonight, especially those plumber guys!! All is good... I've showered, brushed my teeth, gone to the bathroom (and flushed the toilet!), and had a cup of tea (made with water that poured out of the faucet, fresh and clean, as opposed to sputtering out, all brown and smelly)... I got a great new haircut (and a slightly darker color) this afternoon... I'm at 54% of my fundraising goal for the 3-Day Event Breast Cancer Walk (you guys have been so generous!)... and I'm looking forward to my birthday this weekend, as the Republican is taking me out to my favorite restaurant, where I'll have some gorgeous red wine and dessert before going to the movies (and no, even though we're going out on Valentine's Day, it's NOT romantic!).

So, in honor of my birthday and the fact that today ended up all warm and fuzzy, I'm going to post a list of things I love (things other than the obvious - Ryan, Sundance, my family and friends, etc)... 44 things to be precise, as that's how old I'm turning on Sunday...
1. Tulips
2. Duck egg blue walls
3. Simple silver jewelry
4. Little English villages
5. Books and bookstores
6. Hand-knitted sweaters
7. Rain
8. Swimming
9. Handwritten letters
10. Family photos in silver frames
11. Long massages
12. Old pubs
13. White kitchens with big windows
14. Camping
15. Freshwater pearls
16. Kissing
17. Words as art
18. Big, fat, thirsty towels in sunkissed colors
19. The sea
20. Puppy breath
21. Wicker furniture
22. Gerard Butler's crooked smile
23. Nike running shoes
24. Colorful, handmade quilts
25. Cottages
26. Classic Audrey Hepburn dresses
27. Working with little kids
28. Beautiful journals
29. Big comfy chairs with ottomans
30. A fire in the fireplace, inside or out
31. Big soaker bathtubs
32. Porch swings
33. Hardwood floors
34. Lemon or raspberry anything
35. Container gardens
36. Magazines (especially home mags)
37. Finding a piece of art (any medium) that 'speaks' to me
38. Lambs (especially the ones with black faces)
39. Traveling
40. Babies' big belly laughs (and causing them!)
41. Pine farm tables
42. The smell of citrus, vanilla, or fresh cotton/linen
43. Floorplans and architecture
44. Writing

Mount Sewer

This is the front yard right now.

Pretty, huh? Now I don't need to leave the house to go hiking. Cool. Or, if I decide to murder someone, I've got a convenient dump site for the body. Oh, and for all that digging? There. Is. Still. No. Water. I had to brush my teeth at McDonalds this morning. Nice.

There is a guy from the city outside right now, digging up the street with a big old noisy yellow contraption. If he and his little friends can't supply us with water by this evening... you know that whole murder/body dump thing I mentioned above? Yeah... it's on.

Doggie Interview

Sundance got tagged for an interview meme by Batcat, over at Life, Work, and Pleasure. Since I'm busy today, whining about not having a toilet, I figured I'll let him at it...

1. Do you think you’re hot? Dude. I’m cool.

2. Upload a favorite picture of you. Why do you like this picture? Most of the pictures of me make everyone say, “Awwww, he’s so cute!” Sometimes I just don’t want to be cute, you know? This one’s got some ‘tude.

3. When was the last time you ate pizza? About 2 weeks ago. Man, I love me some pizza. Usually I only get a little crust, but Ryan, the 2-legged kid in the house, can sometimes be pretty careless with her food, especially on the weekends, when she can watch TV while she eats. She usually sits on the floor and leaves her food beside her (and she totally doesn't pay attention). Mom always says, “If it’s on the floor, it’s in Sundance territory,” so I don’t feel too bad when I snitch a bite (or a whole piece of pizza) here and there. She really ought to be more careful, don’t you think?

4. What was the last song you listened to? 'London Bridge is Falling Down', played by the 2-legged kid on the recorder, in the car on the way to school this morning. Of course, I was lying on the backseat with my paws over my ears, whining to myself and Mom was making this strange, choking-gurgling-crying sound, so I didn’t hear too much. I’ve really got to put that awful thing on my list of stuff to chew.

5. What are you doing now? Kicking back beside Mom on the couch. Yeah, I’m not supposed to be up here but Mom’s been a little distracted with all the digging going on in the front yard and the weird smells coming up out of the basement, so I’m gettin’ away with some stuff. Cool.

6. What name would you prefer besides Sundance? Well, I don’t really get called Sundance all that often (and I don't mind all that much, as I always sort of thought it was little on the frou-frouey side). Most of the time I’m Sunny or Bubby (don’t ask). But to tell the truth (and don’t repeat this, OK?), I sort of like it when Mom calls me Sweet-faced Boy. Yeah, I know it’s so not cool, but when she says it, she usually pinches my cheeks and kisses my head and gives me a big, long hug. You really can’t beat that lovey-dovey stuff, let me tell you.

7. What’s your favorite thing to do? Well, I like hanging out at the park every morning with my Mom, chasing ducks (not the geese, though… those buggers are mean!) and playing with my friend Riley. But I think my most favorite thing to do is go swimming with my cousins Ben and Hunter at their pool. I didn’t like to swim at first, but once Mom got me in the water and showed me I wasn’t going to drown, it was cool. Now I like to get in water wherever I am but I get yelled at for that… something about how I’m going to stink when I’m wet. Yeah, I have no idea either.

8. Where do you sleep? On the bed. Duh. Where do you sleep?

9. Do you have a favorite toy? Totally. My tug-of-war rope. I used to be able to pull the 2-legged kid around the room when she was hanging on to it. But she got big. Now I just try to pull Mom off the couch. It’s way cool.

10. Are there any other animals at your house? Hell no. This is my house. The 2-legged kid is as close to another animal as we’re gonna get.

Happy Monday!

This is how I feel today.
I'm off to the neighbor's to pee... the pool to shower... and the laundromat to see if I can get raw sewage out of every article of clothing Ryan owns. Oh, and I have cramps, too. Yes, that is TMI, I know (and I apologize) but I wanted to illustrate just how friggin' inconvenient a major plumbing issue could be.

Happy Monday.

Lovely...

It's been a lovely weekend. The plumber has been here for the past 4 1/2 hours, trying to determine why we had a waterfall of suspiciously unclean water in the basement. Lovely. Turns out, he's stumped. But he is sure that if we take showers, do dishes or laundry, or flush the toilet more than twice, we will have a geyser of unclean water in the bathroom or kitchen. Yes, really lovely. He's sending someone else out first thing in the morning with a camera attached to a snake-y thing... that should tell us (hopefully) that it's the city's issue. Until that point... it'll be the shower at the gym and the neighbor's toilets. I left a big sign on the bathroom door, printed in red Sharpie, to let Ryan know NOT TO FLUSH THE TOILET. Lovely.

Yesterday I woke up to a completely destroyed front tire. Dunno how it happened exactly. And yes, it was one of my new tires... one of the 'high performance' (my ass) tires, each of which costs more than my first car (my ex picked this car and these tires... not me). Lovely.

On a positive note, I'm at 42% of my $2,300 goal for the breast cancer walk after only 3 days!! Three days!!! Thank you to everyone who has donated so far... every penny is so appreciated!! Again, I do hope you'll all pass my Pink Page blog and/or donation page information on to anyone you know who might be inclined to donate. We're well on our way. And that is lovely!

On another positive note, my brother and sister-in-law seem to have forgiven me for the awful things I didn't do. Though neither has acknowledged the letter I sent, they seem to be speaking to me again and my brother is even (voluntarily) taking care of my tire issues (I'd never ask). I'm just going to let it all drop. I know an apology is just way too much to expect or hope for and that's fine. It's not why I wrote the letter anyway (though it would have been nice). At least if we're talking, it makes things easier for the whole family. And that's lovely, too.

So, two crappy things and two nice things happened this weekend. I guess that makes it a wash, huh? And I just remembered that all the clean clothes I washed earlier today need to be re-washed, as they were folded on the table right under the unclean waterfall. Lovely.

Hope your weekend was really lovely, too... and I don't mean that in a sarcastic way. Really.

A Hero in Diva's Clothing...

My friend Cari is a clotheshorse. A serious clotheshorse. The woman has enough outfits that she could probably go more than two months without wearing the same thing twice… or even doing laundry. She turned the never-used 3rd bedroom in her house into her closet. Her closet. I, on the other hand, don’t have enough clothes to go a week without doing laundry. Well, I can, actually (and do, frequently… if it doesn’t smell, it’s good to wear, right?).

Yeah, Cari and I are different. In lots of ways. She’s lived in the same small town her whole life, now just a stone’s throw from the house she grew up in. I’ve lived in 4,567 different places. She got married at 20 to the only person she ever dated. I’ve dated more people than live in her whole town. She’s a homebody and likes to stay put. I like to go, every chance I get. She wears 4-inch heels. I wear Nikes. We’re very different. But those differences don’t matter one iota in our friendship because we’re also alike in many ways.

Though Cari is nine years younger than I am, our lives, up until a few years ago, mirrored each other’s in some very significant ways – primarily, we had babies at the same time. We also dealt with the devastating illnesses and deaths of our parents around the same time, too.

When I met her, just over a dozen years ago, her mom was sick. In fact, she’d been battling breast cancer on and off for a good portion of Cari’s life. I watched my friend deal with the gradual and permanent decline in her mother’s health, knowing she was going to lose her; knowing I was going to face the same thing with my dad a short time later. Going through that together cemented our friendship forever and though I hate how it happened, I’m eternally grateful that it happened.

Though I never met Cari’s mom, I went to her funeral. I heard about what a remarkable, strong woman she was; how she’d fought that horrible illness with everything she had. And though I never met her, I know beyond all doubt just how strong she was, because I see her strength every day in her daughter.

After losing several of the women in family to breast and ovarian cancer, Cari decided to have the controversial cancer gene-testing done. She’d had a baby by then – a baby boy named Nathan (after her mother, Natalie), who was born just 8 weeks after Ryan – and she wanted to do whatever she could to make sure she would be here for him. Cari knew the outcome of the testing before she even got the results – she knew in her heart she would test positive. And she did… for the BRCA1 gene. She also knew that carrying the gene increased her chances of getting breast cancer by 75%. So after much soul-searching, she stepped up and began a course of preventative treatments that would forever change and be a part of her life; that would alter her body and her chemical make-up; that would prevent her from having any other children; that would frustrate her and scare her; and that would hopefully let her live without the diagnosis that ended the lives of too many of the women in her family.

I’ve watched Cari face so many fears. When she was pregnant, she was terrified she’d have a little girl and pass on the breast cancer legacy. Knowing everyone in her family had been diagnosed around age 30, she traveled through the first part of her 30’s always looking over her shoulder. She’s had tests and scares and surgeries that have made her question everything, including her own sanity. In the last year, she’s had to deal with her little boy’s diagnosis of juvenile diabetes. But always – always – she has faced everything with grace and courage… and in 4-inch heels.

We used to take long weekends together and, because Cari was afraid to fly, I used to go to her. The year my marriage ended, I couldn’t take the trip but she hemmed and hawed about coming down to me because she was scared. I told her I couldn’t understand how she could go through everything she did, and with such frequency, and yet still be afraid to fly – something millions of people do every day. When she looked at it that way, she realized I was right. And a couple of months later, after she faced yet another fear, I picked her up at the Charlotte airport for a long weekend of… you guessed it… shopping!

Cari is my hero. My hero in diva’s clothing. She is more like my sister than my friend and I love her. I am a better person for knowing her. And I hope that with the cancer research being done, and because of her tremendous courage and willingness to face what terrifies her, I’ll know her for the rest of my life.

I also hope you’ll click on the link to my 3-Day Event Donation Page and give what you can to the cause. And if you can’t donate, I hope you’ll pass on the link to my new Pink Page blog or my donation page to everyone you know. This horrible disease touches us all in some way, small or great. But it doesn’t have to. So let’s make it stop.

Cari and Nate.

And the Award Goes To...

I’ve gotten a few luverly awards over the past week or so and I wanted to acknowledge them (ever so gratefully) and pass them on. I decided this time I was going to pass each award to just one person, which was hard, hard, HARD… but here they are…

First is from the inimitable Braja who, I think, made this one up just for me (how cool is that?!). It’s the Queen of All Rambling Award. Now, I’m not prepared to give up my crown just yet, but I’m happy to share it with another rambler – one I’d be thrilled to rule alongside… the lovely Fhina over at A Woman of No Importance (don’t let the title of her blog fool you!). Fhina is a rambler of the very best sort (and someone I know Braja would be proud to crown)… she’s insightful and funny and wise and humble. I adore her and if you head over to her blog, you will, too.

Next is the Marie Antoinette Award given to me by one of my best bloggy friends, Protégé (another blog you should be reading if you’re not already!). This award, as I understand it, is given to bloggers who ‘keep it real’ and I have to pass it on to a very real blog I love, love, LOVE… it belongs to Blognut (my evil twin... though she's a mindless rambler and not an addled rambler... and you know addled is better, right? Yeah, it is... take my word). Anyway, again, if you’re not reading her, what the hell are you waiting for?!

Last is a very special award, given by Denise at Shut the Front Door! It’s the Wonderful Mother Award. I was really touched to receive this one, especially from Denise, whose mom-skills are stellar. Being a mom is a big, wonderful, horrible, scary, funny, miserable, fulfilling job and it’s one that rarely gets acknowledged or thanked. So this means a lot. I’m going to do something unconventional here, though, and I’m passing it on to Coachdad. I know he’s not a mom per se but he IS a single dad of four (count ‘em – four!) daughters. Like me, he (often) gets to be mom AND dad and, as far as I can tell, he’s doing a pretty amazing job. He parents with great humor and great love, and he’s not afraid to admit his blessed imperfections or his fears. So I hope all you wonderful mothers, whose blogs I read and adore, and who all really and truly deserve a Wonderful Mother Award, don’t get upset. If you read his stuff, I'm betting you'll agree with me.

Writer's Workshop: Just Do It!

It’s Writer’s Workshop time… see Mama’s Losin’ It for details. This week I chose the prompt, “Write a list of 10 things on your mind this week.”

I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. A ridiculous amount. Too much. Something you may not know about me is that I think everything to death. Sometimes that’s OK – even helpful… but most of the time it’s not. It certainly hasn’t been OK lately because, you see, I’ve been thinking and not doing. And it’s time to start doing. It hit me hard last night that I can theorize ‘til I’m blue in the face about why I’m feeling sad or lacking motivation or resisting forward movement… but in the end, none of my theorizing matters one iota. The bottom line is that I’ve always been motivated by accomplishment but I’m not accomplishing anything these days. And that has to stop. I simply have to start.

So today I took some time and got a few things done that needed doing. And I plan to do the same tomorrow… and the next day… and the day after that. I’m adopting Nike’s slogan as my mantra… Just Do It!

Here are some of the things on my mind that have moved from ‘in my head’ to ‘in process’…

1. The breast cancer walk… I’ve decided to do it so I’ve registered and now I’m planning my fundraising effort and training schedule.

2. Money… I’m sorting out some financial issues that have been wearing on me.

3. My work website… I got some of the text to my friend Alan (who's helping me with the site) today and I’m sorting out web-hosting and my PayPal account.

4. My new work certification… I’ve scheduled the test date.

5. The summer… Ryan and I want to camp out to the Grand Canyon and Sedona, so I’ve started putting together a plan to pay for the trip.

6. My car… I scheduled an oil change, which my poor car needs desperately.

7. My creativity workshops… I’ve designed the flyer to go up at the big book fair next month.

8. Sundance… my boy seriously needs a bath. Good lord. I’m calling the groomer tomorrow.

9. Weekends… I’ve been feeling really lonely lately and I need some face-time with a friend who makes me laugh ‘til I pee in my pants, so I’m figuring out when I can go down to visit Mel.

10. My Aunt Jean… she's one of my favorite people in the world; my safe place. Her huge, generous heart rebelled last week and she had a heart attack and two surgeries. She’s OK now, demonstrating, as always, woman’s resilience. I’m sorting out when I can visit her, too.

To Do...

I've got ninety-eleven things to do today... I'm gonna get at least one of them done. So don't think I'm ignoring you... I'll catch up on all your wonderful words this evening. And hey, thanks for all your support, my bloggy friends... it means the world... XO

I Want...

My birthday is coming up. Ryan, always obsessed with giving me the perfect gift, asked me last night what I want. As usual, I didn’t know what to tell her, as there is little I want or need. My typical response is, “Whatever you get will be perfect, because you gave it to me.” But that answer isn’t good enough for her (and it really isn’t true, given some of the atrocious things I’ve gotten in the past, like the gargantuan/gaudy earrings I had to wear out of the house so she would see, then leave in the car all day, so no one else would!). She wants to know my heart’s desire and no matter what it is, she’ll do her damnedest to get it for me. Case in point…

A couple of years ago I saw these adorable sheep figurines when I was in England. Now I don’t normally go for stuff like that, as I don’t like clutter, but I have a thing for sheep and these little guys were wearing Wellies and Fair Isle sweaters… too cute. I didn’t get one, though, and I’ve regretted that decision since. Ryan remembered me telling her about them, though I don’t know how, as I only mentioned them once or twice, some time ago. Anyway, at Christmas this year I really couldn’t think of a thing I wanted. After weeks of pestering me, she told me not to worry – that she’d thought of something. A few days later, though, completely crestfallen, she came to me and said she couldn’t find what she wanted to get me and she’d have to think of something else. That afternoon I happened to be on the computer she uses and I looked at her search history (as is my mommy duty) and there were all sorts of look-ups for ‘sheep in sweaters,’ ‘sheep figurines,’ ‘sheep in boots and sweaters.’ I was really touched. Of course it would have been funny had she found them, as I’d have had to make the purchase myself with my own card, or my mom would have had to do it for her, which would have been even funnier, as my mom can’t even check her own email without help. Anyway, as I say, it just goes to show how important it is to Ryan to get me something I really want.

So I told her I’d have a think about my birthday and let her know what I come up with. And I did think about it. And it made me a little sad. And a little angry with myself. And determined to find some of the direction I’ve been lacking in my life of late.

I want…

I want a place where I belong; a place that feels like home.
I want the people I love to live close physically, not just close in my heart.
I want to feel safe.

I want to be kissed in such a way that I forget how to breathe.
I want to be first on someone’s list of priorities.
I want to be loved fiercely and deeply, without condition, reservation, or judgment.

I want to feel that I really matter in the grand scheme of things.
I want to let go of my regrets and failures, after having (finally) learned from them.
I want to let go of the fear that keeps me from living my dreams.

I want a month in a cottage by the sea.
I want to live with nothing but what I really need and really love.
I want to be free from financial worries.

I want health and happiness for everyone important to me… and for those I don’t know.
I want the world to be at peace – tolerant and accepting of all our grand differences.
I want to make a difference… to exemplify, in some way, the change I want to see.

I just want to be the person I know I can be; the person who loves herself the way she wants to be loved; the person who creates a wonderful life – who doesn’t just want it; the person who stops wishing and just does what’s necessary to matter, to make a difference, to thrive, to be happy, and to find safety and security and peace.

But I doubt Ryan can get any of that at Target, so I’ll probably just ask for a new pair of earrings.

TGI...huh?

Seriously? Well, crap.

Comes the Snow Softly...

Here's a picture of the front yard tonight... I'm guessing tomorrow will be a snow day...

Miscellany...

On a Roll…

I love to make Ryan laugh. Hard. I find ridiculous ways to do it… I change the words to songs (and often make them rude); I hold entire conversations in rhyme, usually set to a silly tune (which I sometimes invent); I hold other conversations in my Daffy Duck lisp (one of my personal favorites); I break into spontaneous dance (and since we know I can’t dance and I do it in public, you can imagine the effect that has); I employ ‘the laugh’ (which makes me sound like a cartoon character… somewhere between Baby Huey and Roger Rabbit)… all funny stuff. Well, funny to anyone under the age of 12 (who doesn’t embarrass easily… Ryan doesn’t). I expect other grown ups would find me quite afflicted. Which is fine with me. I’m not trying to make them laugh. Anyway, this weekend I was on a roll… I made Ryan choke on popcorn, snort milk out her nose, and pee a little in her pants. It was golden.

She Got Me Back…

Ryan got me back this morning. We went out to breakfast and when we left the restaurant, she was walking in the left-over snow along the sidewalk. It was packed hard and pretty much just ice. I said (jokingly), “I hope you fall.” No sooner were the words out of my mouth when BOOM. Down she went. I nearly wet myself laughing (which would have served me right, really, as I’m pretty sure only bad mommies laugh first and check for injuries later).

Inkheart…

We went to see Inkheart on Saturday. Anyone who has kids who like the fantasy genre or Cornelia Funke’s books should consider going. It wasn’t exactly like the book (what movies is?) but it was quite good. And Brendan Fraser is yummy (I kept picturing him in his George of the Jungle loin cloth).

Need Your Opinion…

I’m considering participating in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day Event Breast Cancer Walk. The DC leg is in October, so there’s plenty of time to train for the 60-mile trek. However, the thing that caused me to chicken out last year (and still makes me very nervous), was the fundraising requirement. Every walker has to commit to raising $2,300… and if you don’t succeed, you have to pay the balance yourself. Yikes. I know it’s not a fortune but I’m not good at asking people for money. What do you guys think? If I register, I’d have a page that would allow for credit card donations (from anywhere in the world)… is that something you all might donate to? It’s such a worthy cause, obviously, and it would benefit women all over the world, not just in the US, certainly. It’s a disease that has affected me through people I love and I want to do it… I’m just not very confident in my fundraising ability. Also, if I do it, I wouldn’t mind having a walking partner who could get to DC for a weekend in October… just sayin’. Let me know what you think.

In Case You Were Wondering...

You know that letter I sent to my brother and sister-in-law? The 'olive branch'...? Well, in more than a week, not a word in response. Oh well. At least I tried.