What Happened to Sheryl, Part I

A good friend reminded me that I have been blog silent of late.  As 2010 draws to a close, her prompting is bringing me back to the keyboard.

Life, since September, has been...well, rather chaotic.  Into our quiet, predictable life came our daughter and her three young children.  There is much that can be said about the whys, the right and wrong of the decision, but what it all boils down are three young girls who deserve an opportunity to become all that God created them to be.

While I would be lying if I tried to portray our situation as The Waltons 2010 style, neither is it all bad.  Yes, the three year old is given to fits of screaming when things don't go her way; bed time is well, a nightmare on Willow Bend Dr.; and most days the mornings start waaaay to early.  But there are moments we would never experience any other way.

Shorts and Love Bug raking leaves.

Is there anything more precious than having a baby around the house, especially one who is perpetually happy?

Hamming it up on Halloween.

Showing off a new hair cut.

Wanting a picture taken because big sister did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These are also the things that keep us from poking our eyes out at 5:30 in the morning when the screaming commences, or at bedtime when #1 antagonizes #2, and #3 is just trying to keep the peace.  Ahhh, the life of a multigenerational home.
Next...Part 2 - Getting ready for Christmas.

One of Those Days

I am sitting here, alone in my room, alone in my home, and I feel as if I could cry.  I'm really not sure why.  I have a lovely home, a loving husband, 3 gorgeous grandchildren and a daughter who is working hard to get her life together.  My business is surviving the worst economy in over 70 years.  What is there to cry about?


I am a crier.  It takes very little for me to tear up - I have been known to cry at dog food commercials because the dog is aging.  This feels different.  There is no logical explanation; that always baffles me and I spend valuable time trying to figure out what is wrong.


JFM went out of town yesterday.  When I am feeling uncertain I get anxious when he leaves.  I know I am perfectly capable of taking care of the house and myself, it is just...well, I like having him here to help me.  He is a big man (tall not fat) with a heart to match.  He irritates me as all husbands do to their wives, but the bottom line is that I depend on his presence in my life. 


This is the last day I will have the house completely to myself.  I am happy that the girls will be living here because I know they will be safe and secure.  I really don't mind.  So, why the emotion?


I think it might boil down to the fear of history repeating itself.  Last time we let our daughter move in things went well for months.  Then one day I came home from work and they were gone; gone back to the environment they had fled a few months earlier.  No goodbyes, no thank yous, they were just gone.  I was devastated.  I think my anxiety is based in the fear that a similar scenario will occur once again.  Like most people I have some abandonment issues and the way the kids were taken away fed right into this problem.


While I know she is their mother and has every right to do as she pleases, I have lived longer and know the ramifications of such actions and can't help worry about the girls, especially Shorts who has been through so much.


So, what's a girl to do?  Live each day as it is presented to me; keep our sanctuary private and pure; love each child deeply no matter where they live; and take lots of weekend vacations!


Hugs to all.

I Rearrange Therefore I Am...

... at peace.  

With the impending expansion of our family (no, not like that, our daughter and 3 granddaughters are moving in with us), I felt the need to declutter the living room.  We are blessed to have a 1980's version of the modern home which means a giant great room and only a formal dining room.  This arrangement has served us well, and now that large room is more important than ever.


I sat in the room yesterday, however, and a feeling of claustrophobia overwhelmed me.  This is not good.  I tried to imagine this same room filled with children, another adult, toys and noise...well, let's just say I had a break down.  Something has to be done, and since moving is not an option, I tried to picture the room in a different layout.  This didn't work either.  I am visual - I have actually see it to feel it, which means furniture must be moved, several times, so that I can see what works and what doesn't.  Thus, I stopped the panic, put on my big girl panties and started to move furniture.  It is amazing what happens when a coffee table is moved from the room and the sofa is pushed back about a foot.  Voila' a large space for kids, toys, adults and no one has to be on top of one another.  The oxygen had returned to the room.

We now have plenty of seating for everyone.  A chair and ottoman placed in a corner and out of the line of fire.  Adequate lighting and room for storing toys in baskets which will go under the sofa table. 

But joy in one room led to despair in another.  What to do with the coffee table and how am I going to turn our bedroom into a child-free zone; an adult retreat just for the two of us?


After about thirty minutes one aching back and two clicking knees later this is what I cam up with...

a cozy little seating area where we can watch TV, read, or, even talk.  It has the Cleo seal of approval.  The furniture is vintage 1930s or 1940s purchased several years ago from a friend.  This is the original upholstery which will be changed soon.  I want to decorate this room in soothing brown based neutrals and the accent colors will be white, turquoise and orange.  This color scheme is an homage to my love of all things mid century (20th) modern with a nod to a set of stacking footstools we had in our home when I was growing up.  The bowl on the table is a piece of Fenton glass I inherited from my mother-in-law and the wall hangings above it were hers as well.  This room, along with the master bath, is scheduled for repainting soon.  After that new bedding and the furniture redo.


The other part of the room is the place where I am now sitting - my little desk area.  I moved an antique drop leaf table from the kitchen to our bedroom.  The main reason is because I want the kids to be kids; I don't want to have to worry about this table as it gets heavily used every day.  It makes the perfect desk.

The leaf can be popped up, so if we wanted to eat a cozy meal together or play a game, we can do that as well.  The master retreat is coming together nicely.

The rooms in our house are a hodgepodge of eras, styles, and right now colors, but somehow everything kind of works and there is a feeling of comfort knowing we are using the things our parents used.  I like that.  

I often dream of a perfectly decorated house - all one style where everything coordinates and when the HGTV decorator and real estate agent walk in they proclaim it perfect - "Change nothing" they advise.  But the reality is that will never happen and, really, would I want to live without memories or history?   No.  My house is a reflection of me - a charming, if not disjointed, blend of many different things that make up the whole.  I like it here.

Family Visits

I have talked with many folks about the experience of visiting family.  What I have found is that nearly everyone has a similar story.  Each family has its own routine and ways of doing things - and often the routine becomes rather boring. 


In years of visiting my inlaws and my own parents we nearly always do the same things.  Eat and watch tv.  Ok - maybe there is some conversation in there somewhere, but you get the idea.  After we have caught up on each others lives, we have to look for things to do.  Part of the problem, in my family, is that we did not grow up playing together.  Our parents took good care of us, but they worked so hard there was no left over time for fun.  Sounds sad, but it really wasn't so bad.  But, with that back drop it explains why family visits are what they are today. 


Now that mom is our only living parent I want to make visits count.  She and I have a favorite "antique" store where we like to spend time treasure hunting - and we rarely leave empty handed.  We also cook and eat. 


I guess in the long run the most important thing is to regularly spend quality time together making memories.  Everything else will be forgotten.

Mom reminded me that what my grandchildren need is love, attention and security - in years to come they won't remember what I buy them or if their room is decorated perfectly but they will remember the things we do together.  Those are the memories I want to make and the memories I want them to have with my mom.

The Politics of Kindness

Yesterday I finally gave up and went to see my doctor.  After dealing with vague physical symptoms for eight days,  I decided it wasn't a figment of my imagination, nor was I going to get over it on my own.  As luck would have it, the two times a year when we have beautiful weather in southeast Texas, is also the time when I suffer from allergies.  The end result is generally a sinus infection.  I'm a little early for my fall bout with this pesky condition, but nonetheless, the usual symptoms began. 


I do what I always do, I wait a week to be sure I am not over reacting then I go see my doctor.  In my twenties, thirties, and forties, a doctor was someone I went to once a year - if that - and with whom I had no true personal relationship.  Not having born children I did not go through that bonding experience with an obstetrician or pediatrician the way many women do.  It was not until I found this doctor that I stayed with one person for more than a year.


When we first met, Dr. D. was relatively fresh out of medical school and still wet behind the ears (me being the savvy nurse immediately recognized the signs); she struck a cord with me and I have never left.  Now, after a decade of practicing medicine, bearing three children, and maturing as a physician, I have that doctor patient relationship I always saw from the other side of the stethoscope.


I find I actually look forward to going to see her.  I like her as a person, but also, for a brief few minutes everything really is all about me.  No where else in my life is anything all about me.  I don't even mind simple medical procedures (X-Rays and other non painful stuff) because during that interaction with the practitioner, I am the center of attention.  I can almost see how people get into the habit of visiting their doctor for every little ache and pain.  I totally get it now.   It's not that I want fame, fortune or the accompanying narcissism; but as a woman torn in many directions it is nice, for a few short minutes, to be the one on the receiving end instead of the giving one.

We stood at the payment desk as she wrote my prescriptions; I remembered two other things I wanted to tell her.  As I began one story I forgot the other.  I stared blankly at her and sadly asked, "Am I just getting old?"  Her reply was kind and comforting without being patronizing, "No, I just think you have too much on your plate."  I felt like Charlie Brown in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" when Lucy explains pantophobia and he yells, "That's it!"  I wanted to jump up and down and shout, "Yes, I have too much on my plate and there is more coming.  Can someone please help me dig out of this pile of chaos?"  However, I maintained my composure long enough to remember the other thing I wanted to tell her.


All of this tells me two things.  First, I am not old nor crazy I am a woman who is balancing a marriage, a business, a design career, and now will be a full time grandmother.  I make things complicated for myself as I try to do too many things - ultimately not doing any of them to my best ability.  And finally, I am way too young to enter the phase of life where illnesses, pills, and doctor visits are my main source of conversation material.  

So what's a girl to do?  I must find another solution that is less expensive and equally satisfying.  

Pedicure anyone?

The Rush of The Unpredictable

I often dream of a life of serenity and peace.  An idyllic existence filled with days of creativity, laughter, family and friends. 

I can see myself starting the day with a cup of coffee, sitting in a lush garden watching the wildlife moving around, feeling a cool breeze.  From there I would go to my fiber studio to do - well, whatever I was moved to do.  Hmm, what to have for lunch?  Light French type fare: fresh bread, simple meat, cheese, fruit and of course a simple rose' wine.  A walk, time to read, and perhaps visit with good friends in the afternoon.  The evening would find me in the kitchen cooking a meal with items from our garden and retiring to a quiet evening with my husband.

Then, I open my eyes and reality checks back in.  My house has been turned upside down in preparations for a life changing event.  Despite everything I wrote the last time I blogged (most of which was cathartic but not realistic) our daughter and granddaughters are moving back in with us. 

I know, I said this would never happen again.  I say lots of things when hurt, angry or frustrated.  I know Dr. Phil would ask, "What were you thinking?"  I know that the wisdom of the world says that we need to practice tough love because we are enabling our daughter to rely on us rather being independent.  But, all I know is that there are three young children who need a safe, secure and loving home, a young mother of three who has mistakes but in the end wants to be a good mom and provide for her children, and God has given us the ability and the heart to help.  How can we say no?

I know what it is like to be in a relationship that is emotionally hurtful.  I know what it is like to be a child in a home with conflict.  Most of all I know how good it is to be able to provide my grandchildren with a safe and secure place to live.  We simply can't turn our backs on these three precious children.  Nor can we turn our backs on our daughter.  She hasn't had an easy go of life.  She was thrown lots of curve balls from the very beginning of her life.  None of these things are worth discussing but all of life experiences go into making us who we are - good and bad.  I have always believed that it is what we do with these experiences that separate the survivors from those who just fade away into oblivion.

So, while my life may not look like that dream life - but this is my life, and I am grateful to have the chance to help those I love.

Swimming For My Life

I can vividly picture myself sitting on an airplane, making the three hour flight from Houston to Los Angeles to visit my family; I was reading the book "Everything I Know I Learned in Kindergarten."  What a great book.  Where would any of us be without those simple lessons that continue to guide our lives?  Who we are, in large part, is shaped by the time we are five years old, but I am finding that life lessons can be learned at any age.  In fact, if we stop learning and growing, we begin dying, inside and out.


Last week I stepped way out of my comfort zone and landed in a swimming pool.  I took swimming lessons when I was a child but without practice or regular exposure to the water anything I learned was soon forgotten; it was replaced by fear.  I spent the next forty or so years longing to be able to go to water parks, do activities in and around water, and just plain relax and have fun.  The time had come; I donned a bathing suit (does it get any more brave than this?), goggles and stepped over the edge.


A friend is teaching me at her home.  No one to see me flail and gasp; no one to laugh as I struggle to coordinate my arms and legs trying to make them do what I want them to do.  I am learning under the watchful eye of a kind and patient friend who is able to push with just right amount of gentleness.  I feel safe and I also want to make her proud.


The very first thing I learned was "as long as there is air in your lungs you will float."  What an amazing difference that little piece of information made to me.  With air I will float.  Without air I will sink.  I left that first day and pondered the bigger picture of this lesson.

When each one of us is born God breathes life into us.  He is the air that gives us life.  But the physical life is not really what I learned from my floating/sinking experience.  Along with my swimming lesson came a week of painful human emotions.  I was sinking fast - gasping for air and flailing about; I was truly drowning.  But, an amazing thing happened as the week progressed.  I prayed.  I cried.  I prayed while I was crying.  Friends prayed for me and the situation.  Slowly, I felt the life giving air filling me once again.  I was floating in the arms of my God who loves me and ALWAYS carries His children to safety when they cry out for Him. 


My week ended with an exhausting yet fun weekend with my precious grandchildren.  Children embody the hope and promise for the future.  I was filled with God on the inside as I watched life exploding in front of me.  A gift of life from the One who gives life.  

When life is swirling out of control: breathe.   Don't panic, slow down, breathe in through your mouth - out through your nose and be sure to stay filled with the air of life.

Next Lesson:  Don't Be Dainty

The Grip of Fear

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.   Anatole France

For me, one of the most painful parts of growing older is realizing that the life I dreamed of is not the life I have.  I am grieving the loss of a dream life that was never really mine to begin with.  I stepped into the middle of a life in progress.  I married a man with one child, a child I had known since birth, and a child I loved, cared for and viewed as my daughter.  The problem was, this feeling was not, and I now realize can never be returned.  It is truly no fault of hers.  She grew up torn between two people who were so wounded that they couldn't see past their own pain.  The death of a child will do that to a couple.  This couple endured the death of two children.  How can that kind of pain ever be repaired?


I viewed myself as the "knight in shining armor."  I could almost hear Mighty Mouse's theme song, "Here I am to save the day!"  Well it didn't take long for that ridiculous fantasy to be shattered by the reality of life.  But I continued loving that girl, trying to walk a tight rope between respecting her mother and wanting - no needing - some kind of valid relationship with her.

Tragically her mother died when she was 16 and none of us have ever been the same.  Her mother was like all the rest of us - she had her good points and her not so good points, truly no better or worse than anyone else; however, whenever someone dies before the world is ready to lose them,  then all the flaws evaporate and the good is magnified.  I would never, not in a million years say anything negative about this woman.  She gave birth to my step daughter and because of that I have 3 beautiful grandchildren.

The last twenty years have been spent living a life responding to the needs of this young woman.  We have turned our marriage and life upside down and backwards out of love, concern, control, and fear.  Fear that all the pain of her short life would lead her to make decisions that have long lasting effects.  We have set her free, but not really.  


We are at a particularly painful crossroad.  I am stepping back and realizing that I have to have the courage to let go - permanently let go - of that dream life in order to move forward.  This pain will not stop until I do.  Those grandchildren are the only children I have known.  The oldest one was born while her mom still lived at home and I was blessed to help raise her.  We have a bond that can never be broken.  Neither time nor distance will tear us apart.  I must trust that truth.  I must have the courage to let go and reclaim my life.


I must die to the life of family holidays, boisterous get togethers, going to school plays, dance recitals, sporting events, and just creating traditions that can be passed down to the next generation.  What could I gain if I let go?


Freedom.  The freedom to continue to grow as an independent person; to live a life as the free spirited artist I see in myself; a life that always has room for those I love yet doesn't depend on them to fulfill me; the freedom to live.


This is possibly the most frightening time in my life.  I am totally out of control of the situation, and yet there is a new control within reach if...
I.....
         just.........
                          let..........
                                           go............

Americans Looking Forward?

A very good friend, and wise woman, taught me that everyone must have something to look forward to.  This little gem has given me a new perspective on life.  Without something to look forward to all we have is the grind of everyday life.


I thought about looking forward as I watched the space shuttle Atlantis land this morning.  After 30 years it still amazes me that something that big can go straight up into space and then come home land like a an airplane.  As a child of the 60's I grew up with the space program and like millions of Americans watched as Apollo 11 landed on the moon.  We held our collective breaths every time one of the ships left the launch pad, cleared the hurdles of the mission and re-entry, coming back to earth in a very small capsule in the ocean.  

With this backdrop I still vividly remember my feelings of excitement and pride in my country as the first space shuttle took flight.  I knew that just as the Apollo 11 mission was the beginning of something amazing, so was this new method of space exploration.  We, as a country, had something to look forward to.  We were united in enthusiasm and pride.


Today, Atlantis landed with nothing to look forward to.  I cried.  I cried not just for the space program that means so much to our country but to the city where I live.  The Johnson Space Center in Clear Lake City is a gem in Houston's crown.  We are space city.  Our sports teams have space themed names and our children tour the space center on field trips.  The name of our city is one of the first words uttered from the moon.  Space, and all that it represents is fundamental to the history and image of Houston, Texas.  I'm proud to live here. 


What do we as Americans have to look forward to?  Everyday when we get up and turn on the news or open a newspaper (do it while you still can) we are bombarded by gloom and doom.  Where or where is that tiny light; that glimmer of hope?


I'm looking.  I know it is out there somewhere.  As we approach the Memorial Day weekend, I pray that this day of remembrance is about more than barbeques, a day off to sleep in, or the race to the best sale.  I pray that each and everyone of us stops to give thanks for our troops - particularly those who died in the line of duty.  Because of them we continue to be a free people.  Say a prayer.  Say thank you to a soldier.  Find ways to support those who put their lives on the line each and every day so that we have the chance to continue to pursue happiness.


In memorium:  
Robert E. Perkins - U.S. Army and John A. Means - U.S.M.C.

Sounds and Smells

I spent the better part of Sunday buying music from iTunes and creating a new playlist.  I'm not sure how much I spent, and no doubt will be surprised when the bill comes in - but, oh well, it's only money.


I was specifically looking for songs that represent my generation, things I listened to when I was a kid as well as a teenager.  I include in this musical queue, the years of latent teenage behavior of my post divorce life in the late 1980's.  Other than holidays and bill paying, I really enjoyed being single.  Oops, off track again.  Back to the music.  I found songs by The Hermann's Hermits, Bread, Three Dog Night, and The Grass Roots, which nicely compliments my existing collection of Eagles and Chicago.  To that I added Cyndi Lauper, Madonna (the early years), Bruce Hornsby (I have eclectic taste), Survivor, and Phil Collins.


Things that I hadn't thought about in years popped into my head as I was choosing the songs.  Often a scene or a face would pass through my consciousness then would be gone just as fast.  Trying to hold on was impossible - kind of like catching snowflakes, there one moment, gone the next.  Some of these glimpses were pleasant, some, not so much.  There were a couple of times that a song elicited a feeling of anxiety or fear but there was no picture to go along with it.  I wonder - what happened at that moment in my life that was so unpleasant that I can't remember it.  Hmmm, makes me curious but not enough to linger here.


The sense of smell has long been recognized as the sense that draws us into another time - another place.  The other day I bought some new makeup.  I bought it for the smell.  Weird, maybe, but this smell and the memory it brings are both good.  


The smell of Cover Girl makeup always makes me think of my friend Kay.  My mom sold Avon and that was the only makeup I was allowed to use.  But Kay and her sister both used Cover Girl foundation.  When I spent the night at her house and borrowed her makeup I felt free to make my own choice.  Kay's family was like a second family for me.  I spent far more time at her house than she did at mine.  I liked her family.  I thought her parents were kind of strict, but I liked it.  It made me feel safe.  At this point in my life my folks were busy and not so strict anymore.  The teenage years are not the time to loosen the reins!  Smelling Cover Girl make up always takes me back to that time.


Moving, marriages, and life got in the way and Kay and I lost touch.  Something that always made me sad.  She is the one friend who connects me to my childhood.  The one person who has known me longer than anyone except my family.  It is hard for me to explain how important that is to me.  I think never having biological children has caused me to feel differently about relationships.  I need to be grounded and children are certainly grounding and humbling.  Kay reminds me where I came from and keeps me rooted in today.  We haven't physically seen each other in about 25 years.  I hope that will change, but even if it doesn't I know that I will always have a friend in her.


More childhood lessons - this time from the Girl Scouts: "Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver and the other gold."


Find a friend and tell them they are loved - you'll both be happy you did.

Lost and Found

Like millions of people around the world last night I sat through the series finale of Lost.  I never really wanted to watch this show, but on that first night gave into my husband - he does control the remote and I am generally not motivated enough to go into the other room.  One episode; that's all it took.  I haven't missed an episode in the past six years.  Don't quiz me on anything because I probably won't remember details.  My brain simply doesn't retain that kind of trivia.  Heck, my brain rarely retains important stuff.


I tried to follow the Tweets about the finale.  They were hitting so fast it was impossible, but I did notice a couple of interesting trends:
1.  Why do people who hate/have never watched/could care less feel obligated to tell those of us who are fans of the show how they feel?  And, might I add, often in very foul language.  If you aren't a fan - go somewhere else.  
2.  This same philosophy could be applied to many areas of life.  As most of us learned as children, "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all."  Words do hurt.  Forget the old "sticks and stones" garbage.  Words hurt and they can't be taken back.  Choose them carefully.  


The internet is filled with folks who, because they are anonymous they feel they can say anything to anyone.  My guess is that they wouldn't have the guts to say those things to a person's face.  Play nicely with others.  You will be able to sleep at night and look yourself in the mirror.


I personally loved the fact that not all the questions were answered.  There was much left to the speculation of the viewer and interpretation can be left up to that person, and it will be colored by their personal beliefs and values.


Here is my take - love it or leave it - but remember, play nice.
1.  God is love.  God will never leave our side - it is we who turn our backs on Him. 


2.  There are forces of good and evil at work in the world around us and we can't always see or recognize them.  I believe that the spiritual world is at work for both sides and we have a choice to make.


3.  Every person who crosses our path, no matter how insignificant it seems, is significant.  Treat them as you would like to be treated.  Another lesson from childhood worth remembering.


4.  God cannot be boxed in and just as soon as we think we know it all or have Him figured out, He will surprise us.  


5.  Hanging on for dear life and trying to be in control of life is futile.  We are all here at this time for a reason that is known only to God.  Our task is to live each day in a way that honors Him, and to walk humbly with our fellow man.


6.  We are all flawed, and we all screw up.  


7.  Faith is absolutely vital to life.  Most of us live a life of faith or a life seeking faith.  For me, faith means though I have never seen Him, I live in faith that Jesus Christ lived and is the Son of God who died and was resurrected to save those who believe.  There are others who believe differently.  As far as I am concerned a life without faith is a life that is hopeless and rooted in this world - it will never be any better than it is right now.  When the Lost "survivors" were all hugging in the church I thought about my dad.  I'm going to get to hug him again one day.  I thought about all the relatives that I barely knew and those I didn't know at all; the friends, acquaintances, and those folks who crossed my path during this life.  How amazing is that?


I have lived both the seeking life and the life of faith.  Usually both at the same time.  I have been a regular church goer and a non church goer.  I found flawed humanity at every level of church life.  I have been a "holier than thou" finger pointing Christian - for which I am truly sorry.  I have worried that I might do something wrong and loose my salvation - that rule follower personality caused me much pain.


I am now in a place that is beautiful.  I love God.  He loves me.  I feel His presence daily and I see how He has chosen to work through me every single day.  Do I always get it right?  Heck no!  But I now know that I can't screw up so bad that the fate of the world is at stake (yes, that is how whacked out I used to be).  


And, that, is the message I received from the finale of Lost.  This was truly more than a television show for many of us.  It became a part of life.  Nothing to worship or make more important than it was, simply something entertaining and transforming.  Thanks.

A Wild Saturday Night

We bought a new vacuum cleaner...at Wal-Mart.  Nothing says "old married couple" quite like a Saturday night comparing the pros and cons of dirt suckers.  In all fairness to my husband, he did take me to see a movie I wanted to see: Date Night with Steve Carrell & Tina Fey is hysterical and spot on in its portrayal of the mundane predictability of life.  Following the movie and a large popcorn and drink we decided to skip dinner and go shopping instead.

I don't know about your husband, but shopping with my man is always an adventure.  I think most women choose the vacuum cleaner for their home; not so with me.  I am a perfectly secure woman who willing to turn this "major mechanical" decision over to her man.  Again, to be fair - he uses it way more than I do, and really, I just want him to be happy.  His years as a housewares buyer for a local department store make him uniquely qualified for this decision.  He knows his stuff. 

After much pondering and comparing we left with a super duper pet hair sucking machine, guaranteed to give us a sparkly clean house.  He was happy and due to the cute dog on the box, so was I.

 Sunday we decided to put this domestic marvel to the task and vacuum our 20 year old carpeting.  Without going into embarassing details I will simply say - the folks at Eureka do not exaggerate their advertising.  The sucking action works, the attachments work, and if the dog or cat get too close they could spend the rest of their days bald.  This thing is amazing.  It makes me want to clean more often - well, almost.

Dry Skin

In preparation for the ballet Audrey and I made a trip to a local nail salon for manicures and pedicures.  This salon is different than any other I have ever experienced.  First, it wasn't pink.  What is it with pink nail salons?  Now, it is no secret that most nail salons are owned and run by Vietnamese people.  My niece is half Vietnamese so I asked her - "What's up with this?"  She had no clue.  The mystery continues.

The salon, in Plano Texas, is called Polish.  Clever name with a great coral/orange decor, their own line of nail polish and a coed staff.  Yes, I said coed staff.  There were at least 4 men performing nail treatments to women of all ages.  Alan did my nails.  I think Audrey was happy I got the guy and she had a very nice yet talkative woman.  Audrey is quiet around folks she doesn't know, but this didn't seem to bother the nail tech.  She talked enough for both of them.  Alan was a very nice man whose wife also works at Polish.  I pride myself on being somewhat open minded and welcoming, but I must tell you, it felt kind of weird having a man paint my nails and massage my legs.  But, in hindsight I enjoyed it.  Alan is no Kevin Costner (Bull Durham reference) but he knows his way around a good mani-pedi.

During the course of our time together Alan says, "You know you have dry skin?"  What I thought to myself and what I actually said were quite different.  I thought, "I am a 50 something year old woman, my skin isn't the only thing that is dry."  I maintained my good Southern lady composure and simply smiled and nodded my head in agreement.

I live in one of the most humid climate in the country and yet it doesn't seem there is anything I can do to stop this shriveling process.  I am famous in my family for loving a good back scratch.  During our 20 year marriage, I have trained the hubby to perform whenever I lean over in front of him.  This silent message means, my back itches and I need you to fix it.  He is the best.  My back issue used to be a winter only phenomenon, now I just make sure hubby's nails are ready for year round action. 

Could this be a medical condition?  The imagination reels with possibilities: medical massage with essential oils to alleviate my itchy back and soothe the savage beast within?  I'm wondering - is this covered under Obamacare?  I'm just asking...

All Dressed Up

It was the culmination of a week filled with a new hair cut, endless shopping for just the right dress, trying on shoes, packing, planning, manicures, pedicures and, finally, we were ready for our night out.  We were going to the ballet. 


I love having a niece, especially one who likes doing the same kinds of things I like to do.  Audrey is 17, smart, funny - she inherited her dad's dry wit, and best of all, she likes hanging out with her aunt. 


I have to say that I think I was the kid that night.  We saw Sleeping Beauty at Bass Hall in Ft. Worth.  The hall is an intimate environment and so beautiful.  We were sitting so close we could see the expressions on the dancer's faces and could also "see them sweat."  As the lights slowly came up the dancers and scenery slowly became visible through, what had looked like a curtain but was actually a translucent veil.  As this veil rose, the stage came to life as the characters began telling the story of the newborn princess who, at 16, would fall victim to a curse causing her to sleep for 100 years.  The kiss of a certain prince is the only thing that could awaken her. 


As all this was happening, I found myself sitting with a silly grin on my face, and I think I might have even let my mouth drop open.  The good news is I caught myself before the drool started to flow - count me thankful for the little things.

Reprints

I have moved these posts from my website.  I want to keep this blog for personal posts and the other site will be strictly professional.  There you will find my all my fiber information, crochet work, classes, and general information.   I love to write and this will be my creative outlet for writing about...well, about anything that captures my fancy.  Be sure to subscribe so you don't miss a thing!

Cold Winds and Other Facts of Coastal Life 
Originally published on March 28, 2010
Despite all the modern technology available to me, checking the weather in my chosen destination is always an afterthought.  Where's my Girl Scout training when I need it?  Where is common sense?  I packed short sleeves, sandals, cropped pants and one flimsy sweater.  I own a yarn shop, for goodness sakes; sweaters abound in my closet.  Socks?  I have color coordinated socks for all possible ensembles, but did they find their way here?   Nope.

I have made the best of the situation.  Thanks to my romantic nature and years of watching television commercials, I have always loved the idea of sitting outside on a cold day, bundled up in a blanket, sipping a cup of coffee.  So, here  I am on the porch of my seaside cottage, covered with a colorful quilt, enjoying that cup of coffee, while recording this latest adventure.

Nothing profound is running through my mind this morning.  I am relaxed and have let the cares of the real world slip into oblivion. 

I miss Cleo.  People walk their dogs on the beach and along the coast road.  Cleo would love it here.  As I consider the upcoming phases of my life I struggle with the issue of pets.  Both Cleo and Munchkin are getting on in years.  I dread the day when one of them dies leaving the other alone.  They truly are our Garfield and Odie.  Due to my desire to travel, I have been hesitant about getting another dog.  It just takes more effort to make arrangements for a dog than for a cat.  Then the issue of, will we really travel or is it just a fantasy?  I fantasize a lot - which comes to no surprise to those who know me well.  I live in a pretend, "I wish this were my life" world so much that I think I miss the here and now of my real life.

But, once again, I digress. 

I have always had a dog and cannot imagine life without the love and entertainment they bring.  With the exception of our lab, Sadie, we have had strays.  My husband swears that I have a homing device understood only by helpless dogs and cats looking for a warm place to sleep and plenty of love.  I choose to think that the animals I have brought home are the ones meant for us to own.  Rationalization again?  Probably, but that is my story and I am sticking to it.

The romance is wearing off; I can't feel my toes.  The view of the bay will be quite lovely from the couch, inside the cottage.  


Restoration Of The Soul 
Originally published on March 27, 2010

There is a gentle breeze flowing up from the waters of Little Bay.  The sounds of gulls and other sea birds mix with the mockingbirds constant chatter making even the drone of cars moving along Fulton Beach Road bearable. 
I don't believe in reincarnation - God put me here at this particular time and for a particular purpose and when that is done I will return to Him - if there were such a thing, however, could I please be a bird?  Birds, to me, represent ultimate freedom.  They just pick up and go where they want to go; people are fascinated by them, in fact there is an entire industry devoted to watching birds.  I want to be a bird.  But not just any bird.  You see, I am not a preditor by nature.  I admire hawks, owls, and eagles but I don't want to be one.  I think being a sparrow would be fun: they are cute and people like to feed them.  That appeals to me.  But, oh, to be a seagull....to live life on the coast; feasting from the bounty of the sea, and occasionally snatching food from unsuspecting humans.  What a life that would be! 
I feel the cup of my life refilling as I breathe in the ocean air. 
There is a heron slowly walking through the shallow water.  I can't tell what it is moving towards, but it is gracefully moving - almost floating - towards a specific destination.  Maybe I should be an heron?

But I digress....
When I am in this kind of environment I become reflective.  I have the time to sit and ponder the bigger issues of life.  Isn't it amazingly easy to get caught up in the day to day stuff?  I know I do.  Day in and day out I get up and meet the obligations of the day, of my family, of my business, and at the end of all that I wonder about me.  What happened to me during the day?  As selfish as this sounds I don't think we are meant to totally sacrifice our spirit for the sake of daily life.  My cup is empty.

I have felt God reaching out to me for some time.  For reasons that are not worth discussing here I have pulled back.  Maybe it is the fact that this coming week is Holy Week, for me, the most sacred week of the year; maybe it is that He let me go until I was drained and had no place else to go except back home to Him.  That is the way God works.  He doesn't force Himself on us.  We are to come to Him.  He is always there, waiting, and waiting, and waiting even longer for His children to come home.

Home...it is so good to be home.

End of Football Season

Today is the last Sunday of the regular season for the NFL. I absolutely love football season. There was a time that I could quote stats, knew all the players on my beloved Houston Oilers, and got so involved in the games that I actually cried when the Oilers blew a lead and lost to the much hated Buffalo Bills. Sadly, I think they still hold the record for blowing the largest lead to lose a game in NFL history.

Since that loss I have not allowed my heart to be so invested in a game that devastation over a loss is a possibility. The season is really representative of something more personal and it has only been in the last four years that I have come to understand the connection I feel.

My dad was a quiet man. He worked hard to provide for his family but, for many reasons that are now unimportant, he was content being a bystander in the activities of family life. He enjoyed just watching and listening to those he loved live their lives. Football was one of the things that connected us. I discovered this more as an adult living across the country from him. We didn't always support the same teams, but I was able to discuss the game, the players and who was likely to go to the Superbowl with him. Even during his last days we watched football together.

Each September, as the the teams hit the grid iron once more, these sweet memories signal the beginning of my favorite time of year and remind me that it is through simple human connections people live on forever .

Meatloaf and Cookies

No, I didn't eat these two things together, but I did have them both in the same evening. It was wonderful.

In keeping with the promise to myself to write everyday, the above sentence is the only thing I wrote yesterday, January 2, 2010. My train of thought was interrupted and then I forgot the point I was making. Then, I fell asleep. This dedication to writing daily is going to be difficult.

Lesson learned on day #1 - don't wait until the end of the day to write; being awake while typing is not only advantageous it is a necessity.

Begin at the Beginning

I want to write everyday. It is January first, the day that promises are made for the upcoming year. I could promise myself that I am going to write something everyday, but eventually I would miss a day, then two, then three, then before I know it a month has gone by and no words have been recorded.

I have the same problems in other areas of my life, so I need to get to the heart of the issue. It can summed up in one word: focus. I suffer from a chronic lack of focus. Dangle something shiny and pretty in front of me and off I go, chasing another rabbit. How can I maintain my spontaneous creativity and still get all my daily tasks done? I don't know but I am going to try.

I have broken my life down into three categories I will focus on in 2010:

Myself
My husband, family & friends
Yarntopia.

When I focus on myself I will take care of myself physically & mentally; I will do some things that bring me pleasure; I will create; and I will write. All of these things contribute to my well being.

Next come family and friends. I give a lot to customers and rarely have emotional energy left over for my husband and friends. My thought is that if I take better care of myself and my emotional health then there will be something to give to my family. I am hoping. After family comes my friends. I have allowed many relationships to slip away and I truly regret the loss. Last night a friend that I haven't seen in nearly 20 years found me on Facebook. I am so excited and can hardly wait to see her again. What an amazing way to end the year! Friends deserve my focus.

And finally I will focus on Yarntopia. 2009 found me spending much time on freeform crochet, crochet design and self promotion. While this was fun and exciting it did nothing to build Yarntopia. This year Yarntopia will be the center of my professional world. I will still do creative crochet and the things that give me joy, I simply won't do them at the expense of working for the shop. Amy and I have big plans for the shop and it will require my full focus.

Writing, at this point, is for me. In the future I hope the writing to benefit Yarntopia, but for now it is just for me.

And so it begins.....