MamaCanDance

A Round of Words in 80 Days - I'm In!

2011-10-03T23:29:00.000-07:00

Because life just never lets up and I haven't found myself with unhurried chunks of time to write in a Zen-like office space while staring out at an inspiring landscape I choose this.

A challenge. To keep me writing even if it's not for something that will be posted each day. Even if the writing isn't for the same project every day. Even if I end up just writing a journal to myself.

The object is to write each and every day - even a little bit.

My goal for the next 80 days as part of this challenge is to write 500 words a day. That's it - just 500 words. Some of those words may get posted on the blog, but my guess is that most won't.

I thought about making a weekly goal, but I know myself too well. I will end up writing all the words in one fell swoop and not build the habit I'm looking to build.

So, here I go - 500 words a day: I will write even if my desk is a mess. I will write if I'm hungry. I will write if I'm tired. I will write if I'm bored. I will write if I have nothing of any interest or importance to say - it doesn't stop others in the media, so why should it stop me? Right? I will write when I'm angry and when I'm ecstatic. I may even write when I want to argue a point with myself.

The fall is a busy season, but then again so are winter, spring and summer. Every season has its challenges. Life has its challenges and some seem to keep on coming these days. It’s all too easy to put off the things in life that you wish for and dream for. Obligations and necessities get shoved to the front of the line for your time and attention and the things that are important, deep down in your soul important, get shoved aside until there is more time or a better time. There is never more time; it’s all in how you spend it. Sadly, some of the time gets spent on things that aren’t valuable in the grand scheme of things, but appear to be urgent and important at the moment. Busyness is not always a sign of productivity – something that I have to remind myself as I scurry from one activity to another on my most scattered days.

However, this is one challenge I can choose to face and can choose how to tackle. Conquering this challenge will make me stronger for the other challenges that life deals out.

So, 80 days from now, I will have written 40,000 words. Not all good words and certainly not all usable. But it's a start. And starting is something. Making a public declaration of my goal is a risk. I can change the goal if I need to, but I’d rather not.

It starts now with this post; my first 500 words on this first day of the challenge.
Day 1; Check.

9 and 1/2.... No Not That

2011-05-31T20:41:00.000-07:00

I'm talking school days baby; S-C-H-O-O-L D-A-Y-S! The number of days is much more exciting to me right now than the subject matter of the movie with that title you were thinking about.

Why? It's not that I dislike the job; I actually love it - a lot! It's not that I'm tired of the kids; on the contrary I enjoy them all.

Nope, it's something much more nostalgic; I'm a romantic about summer vacations. My son is already a devotee of downtime, so he's the one that started the end of school countdown. He loves school and his friends, but he's looking forward to the easy living of summertime.

What's on tap for summer? Hopefully not much. The couple of months reprieve will fly by fast even though there will be days I hear the "B" word; boredom. No big plans really; plans are not the reason we're counting down. In fact, it's exactly the opposite; days on end without any plans!

But if you really want to know why we are looking forward to the day oh-so-soon when school's out for summer, go ask Alice; he'll tell you the way it is.

And in nine and a half days, as is my custom, I will crank the volume, open the windows and the sunroof and let Alice Cooper's anthem of summer pour out of my car as my son and I leave school behind for a couple of months. I'll try to keep my arm-waving and seat-dancing to a minimum because the 10 year-old seems to have a lower embarrassment threshold than he used to, and frankly the old Volvo's shocks have seen better days and she rides low enough as it is.

Or maybe I won't. Nine and a half baby; nine and a half!

P.S. RE: Blogathon 2011
Since this is the final post for the May Blogathon, I didn't want to end without mentioning how much fun I've had and how much the other bloggers have inspired me. It has been enlightening to realize I can find time to write every day. It taught me that a plan and some structure would be immensely useful to me as a writer and enhance the experience for readers too. I've learned more about the technology involved and know I need to learn even more. There are some really incredible bloggers and writers out there with interesting and original ideas and content; finding them was made easier because of the blogathon. I can't thank Michelle Rafter of WordCount enough for creating this event and putting so much time and energy into this endeavor! This was expertly done and I got a ton of value out of it because of all the work Michelle put into it. Though I haven't had much time to read as many of the bloggers as I wanted to, I'm hoping to go back through and read a lot in the next few days while I take a little breather to think about the purpose of my blog and do some fine-tuning.

More of which will occur a little more than NINE and a HALF DAYS from now. Ahhh.

Clear Words on a Cloudy Day

2011-05-30T19:16:00.000-07:00

Today is a theme day for the Blogathon, and the theme is to create a word cloud from my blog using Wordle. Here's my word cloud for today:

Honor and Thanks

2011-05-29T21:30:00.000-07:00

On this evening before Memorial Day, I'm taking a bit of time to reflect on the heroes that impact my ability to live a free life. Some I know and love - lots of friends and family members, the number is staggering, have served, or are serving in the military. I send love, respect and gratitude to them and their families for the sacrifices made - daily sacrifices with tremendous impact.

And, there are many I never knew; men and women from the many battles, conflicts and wars that have formed our nation's existence, and continue to shape us well into our children's and grandchildren's future.

Tomorrow is the final day of a three day weekend for many folks. It is the prelude to summer and as such is the kick-off weekend for camping, boating, hiking, beach trips, and barbecues; or for shopping and catching up on rest. However you spend it, I urge you to take a moment and remember those who won't be able to have a barbecue with their families because they are deployed somewhere else. Or those who made the supreme sacrifice and gave their life so we could continue to live ours as we have become accustomed.

Take a moment and reflect on our freedom and the cost of acquiring and maintaining it. Remember to fly your flag appropriately. Thank a soldier - of the past, of the present and those of the future. Do celebrate the day with family and friends, but also teach your children about its meaning. If it's possible, visit a war memorial and read inscriptions. Have a dialogue with them so they might begin to understand how we got to be where we are at this moment in history.

Discuss what heroism means to you, who your heroes are and why, and mention that heroes tend to be at their most heroic when no one else is watching.

"How important it is for us to recognize and celebrate our heroes and she-roes!" ~Maya Angelou

"Each man is a hero and an oracle to somebody." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

And Now, for a Zen Moment...

2011-05-28T20:42:00.000-07:00

Phew! Phase one of birthday party is a wrap. The whole martial arts/Asian fusion/sushi/samurai event went as well as can be expected when you have a bunch of nine-12 year-olds running around with plastic swords. Phase two is underway for the boy contingent of the party - Kung Fu Panda 2 and a sleepover.

So, this is the calm before the second storm. I'm taking a moment to put away food, clean up and blog before midnight. Even though I know the boys will probably still be awake at that time, I hope to head off to dreamland a wee bit earlier. This party mama is P-O-O-P-E-D. I'll take a couple of deep breaths outside as I gaze at our shrine and then pop a little sweet 'sushi' in my mouth to stoke my fire and keep it burning through the evening.

However, nothing stokes me quite like this little guy; a peaceful moment amid the celebration that is the reason my husband and I do all of this. True love baby, true, deep, abiding and unconditional love of this little ninja with a heart of gold. Happy Birthday baby!

Piece of Cake

2011-05-27T23:18:00.000-07:00

Birthday parties are the bomb! Yes, it's true I love birthday parties. I didn't discover this until my son was nearing his first birthday and I stumbled upon a spread of 1st birthday cakes in a parenting magazine. A monster was born - not the kid - me.

Luckily my kid loves the whole birthday theme concept and is a willing co-conspirator. We've had a safari party with an eight foot long snake cake, two turtles made from cupcakes, a couple of castles, a farm scene, cupcakes with Bakugans on them and an Egyptian pyramid cake. This year we are back to cupcakes, topped with "sushi" made from rice cereal treats (pictures tomorrow). There is no mistaking these cakes for a bakery cake; no I'm just not that much of a perfectionist- notice the leaning pyramid above - and I'm not very artistic or neat. But a lot of homemade frosting, some candies and a few sprinkles and the cakes take on a special luster.

It's one of the reasons why my son continues to want his birthday party at home; most party locales won't let you bring a homemade cake, so we are destined to challenge the limits of my not-really-close-to-an-ace-of cake skills. I might not be a great decorator, but my heart is in the right place. And frankly, it's all about the homemade chocolate cake. The one made all those years ago is still the only cake I make on birthdays; it just morphs into different shapes.

I have my friend Michelle to thank for the one bowl wonder cake recipe, although she might not remember why. She gave me a bunch of old Taste of Home magazines one day and this cake recipe was in one of them. I still have the magazine just because of this recipe. It's not fancy, but it's easy and it definitely has that homemade taste.

Well, the cupcakes just came out of the oven. I'll frost them and top them with their 'sushi' pieces in the morning. I'll file the magazine away until the next occasion requiring a cake and head off to rest before final party preparations tomorrow morn.

As a parting gift, I pass on to you, the chocolate one-bowl cake recipe that truly is a piece of cake to bake. Enjoy!

Kickin' It With the Kid

2011-05-26T21:27:00.000-07:00

Tonight I kicked, punched and yelled and loved every minute of it. Sounds like I'm fit to be tied right? Yes indeed; tied with a white belt! This week I joined my son's tae kwon do class. My son; the orange belt. I lived through the first week of class and so far I haven't done anything to embarrass him.

Since we form up according to rank, my son is toward the front of the room, and I am in the back. This may be a problem. He keeps turning around to check on the old lady. He is coaching me at every turn and giving me the thumbs up when I do well. It's very cute, but he needs to be looking at the teacher and not at me, and it's harder to block what you don't see coming because you're not looking. However, I'm going to have to trust the teacher to handle that because in class I'm just another student; not mom.

I'll admit it is incredibly sweet of him to make sure I'm okay, coach me during breaks, and tell me I'm doing a good job when I get it right. But there is one area where I've got the little tykes, mine included, absolutely beat! I'm stubborn and don't like to be defeated. The young pups sure do whine, moan, pant and puff when they have to run, do sit-ups, jumping jacks or push-ups. Oh please.

You'd think they were making them run a marathon! Since I've actually WALKED (note I did not say run) a marathon; and, though I've been AWOL lately, have been a cross-fitter; I can do the little bit of 'work' required without kvetching. Okay, so I came in last while running lines, but I completed the push-ups and sit-ups; not that I'm calling the young ones out or anything. Oh alright I am calling them out. I mean back when I was a kid we had to run long distances in the snow, barefoot, up hill, dragging sleds full of... um, uh, well - siblings. The point is that back in the day we weren't wussies; were we?

Yep, I think this will be good fun for me and the boy. I'm just thrilled he actually wants me to do this with him. He's turning ten in a couple of days and I know, with the teen years in sight, it is quite possible my very existence alone could be cause for embarrassment at any given moment.

For now I'm going to play along with him and play with everything I've got. Maybe I'll get lucky and he will remain as proud of me as he is now, and I in turn will have multiple reasons to remain as proud of him as I am today. Wouldn't that be a kick?

Blood, Guts, Hammers, Mucous and Texas

2011-05-25T21:27:00.000-07:00

Yep, it was that kind of night here at my house, and no the police were not called. You can chalk it all up to being a diligent task-master of a parent tonight, and here's why: Son has a test tomorrow and another test on Friday.

Thanks to my son's fourth grade teacher, I may learn the location of all 50 states just shy of my 50th birthday! If you asked me tonight, I could tell you where Texas, Minnesota, Colorado, Wyoming, New Mexico, Kansas, Nebraska, Oklahoma, South Dakota and North Dakota are located. Ask me tomorrow and I can't promise anything because it's a crap shoot which memory I'll have access to at any given moment; short-term or long-term. It's rarely both at the same time. So far we've done 30 states and is being tested on ten more tomorrow. They are saving the west for last! Get it? West rhymes with best? Oh God I'm tired, aren't I?

After discussing the places where grandpa was born (Nebraska), where the statue of an ancestor is located (South Dakota), where his great aunt lives (Colorado), my cousin lives (New Mexico) and where Toto is no longer (Kansas), I pouted because I haven't been to ANY of those states. Now I'm feeling deprived. All because of fourth grade homework.

Well time to move on to studying the systems of the body. Right up my alley if I might say so; having been a phys ed major. I don't mean to brag, but my commercial and industrial fitness/exercise science BS was hot in the 80s. Not very lucrative, but like all BS, it had it's shining moment. Who knew I would get a chance to light it up again lo these many decades later?

Thank you Mr. M! Although I didn't really get a chance to show-off my expertise as the kid already had great notes to work from, so I was relegated to the role of flashcard question writer. I was impressed with what he knows, and how thorough his notes were. Frankly I don't remember learning the Latin names for parts of the ear. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure I even learned about parts of the ear. I would think that would be part of anatomy and physiology wouldn't you? Hmmm. Perhaps because the ear doesn't actually partake in any commercial fitness related activities it wasn't deemed mission critical info?

I'm glad the kid is being tested on these topics instead of me. I can't hold much of anything these days. To my point; I require more potty breaks in a day than the average kindergartner. I've also had far fewer accidents than they have. Winning! I'm just sayin'...

Fourth grade seems harder than I remember it. The books seem heavier too; the backpack containing all the day's work is probably a good third of my son's height and weight. I guess it's all worth it. He is definitely learning more in fourth grade than I remember ever learning.

But then again, as I said before, I don't remember much.

Oh Yeah, Let It Be Written

2011-05-24T20:36:00.000-07:00

Today is a theme day for the blogathon, and the theme is my five favorite places to write. Aha! An easy topic; I should be able to knock this out quickly and get to bed early for a change.

Only, as I sat here trying to think of favorite places to write, I realized I need to get out more. I can't think of five favorite places where I've successfully written. Oh sure, I can imagine quite a few dreamy writing locations , but none that I've been to. I don't know what it says about my personality, but the first thoughts I had were of places where the actual act of writing has been difficult.

So, I'm going to do my version of a top five; breaking it down into three groups. Without further adieu, my list for tonight will consist of: Places I've tried to write and found it difficult; spaces in which I have written and written fairly happily; and most importantly, the places where I feel like a writer and find joy in the moment.

Here it is: The "This is S#!t" list; followed by the "Where I Usually Sit" list; and then the "Let It Be" list.

This is S#!t

Church
Now before you assume I'm going to hell, let's admit that sometimes inspiration comes from likely places at inappropriate times. No, I've never whipped out my laptop, or notebook to start writing in church, but I have clandestinely written a quick note or two on my phone. However, if I'm inclined to continue, it's impossible because I mostly type nonsense words with my too-fat-for-the-keypad thumbs which leads to cussing, which as I've been told, is not acceptable in church; even in the Unitarian one that I liberally frequent. Who knew?

Any Library
I have absolutely no explanation for this other than the fact that it is too damn quiet! Church is noisier. I have tried to write at the library, taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi access and expertly located coffee and doughnut kiosk in the lobby, but I just can't do it. As soon as I sit down at a table and take out my laptop I develop a list of tics and fidgets that would make Jack Nicholson in As Good as It Gets look like a stoned surfer dude becoming one with the sand. I shift in the horribly unergonomic wooden chair, I scoot it in, then back a little, move my laptop slightly left, angle it inward to cut down glare, realize the guy next to me can now see my screen, so angle it directly toward the window now maximizing the glare, check the cord to make sure it's snugly plugged, put my purse on the back of my chair, moving it to the floor between my feet, shoving aside my briefcase to make room for my purse which makes it feel crowded by my feet, so I shift in my seat again. After all this I'm exhausted and decide I want a doughnut and coffee, which is in the lobby. I can't very well walk away from my laptop in search of refreshment, so I unplug, pack up and head toward the lobby realizing all is now lost and I should just go home; after the doughnut of course.

Where I Usually Sit

My Office
Despite the fact that my office has once again become the dumping ground for all sorts of stuff that doesn't have a home of it's own, my desk and computer in here are comfortable. In addition, the lighting is sufficient and my screen is a size that doesn't drive me to drink more than one or two glasses of wine during the process. It does have some lovely touches like my salt lamp (ooh I think I'll turn it on right now and enjoy it, but I should move the papers away first so I don't accidentally heat things up tonight). Also there is no view to distract me. There's a window alright, but it's covered with a broken shade that can't be lifted. Sometimes when there is sun outside, I prop up one side of the shade with a stick, and it's all good until the shade begins it's slippery descent and the stick falls in the middle of my desk breaking the writing reverie. Then I'm done.

My Bed
This is a recent discovery! Not the bed itself, but actually being able to write in bed. I can't do it for too long because it's not as comfortable as it sounds. On weekend mornings it is heaven to bring a cup of coffee to the bedroom, prop myself up on pillows, grab the lap friendly desk and fire up the computer. Everything is just dandy until I decide to turn on the television and check the news, which leads to flipping channels, and infomercials... Just a minute, I have to go get my wallet; I think I need those Pajama Jeans to wear while writing in bed. Don't you agree?

Let It Be

Out There

I could really dream big here and think of all the exotic places I would love to visit and experience, but the truth is that when I think of those places, I want to live the experience and write about it later. Sure, a little writing here and there is fine, but if I'm heading to a tropical paradise I'm not lugging my laptop out to the beach, or poolside. It's too much to worry about; thieves, sand, water and tipping cocktails.

My favorite writing locales have people gathering in twos or more and conversing. They are accessible for real-life quickie get-aways, have ample food and drink and clean bathrooms. They allow me a little anonymity within a community. Yes, place like coffee shops, cafes, delis, and lunch counters come readily to mind for obvious reasons. But one of my new favorite places to write is in a wine bar during a tasting, especially in the summer if there is outdoor seating. Now we're talking! A perfect observation point (akin to a wildlife blind), to eavesdrop on intimate conversations, which get easier to hear as we all make our way through the tasting list. The other perks include; wine consistently appears in my glass, bread and cheese seem plentiful, and being served this way allows me to plop my writer-self and this setting into any city or country I may fantasize about at the moment

Oh yes, let it be so!

Ikea, I Wanta.

2011-05-23T22:20:00.000-07:00

I am a sucker for a good line. Yep, I can easily fall head over heels in love, eschewing propriety when faced with a well-dressed package and a spectacular line.

Just like tonight. We went in for a microwave cart. Sounds innocent enough, right? On our way to the kitchen area, we sat on every couch and chair that gave us that come hither look. There were many sleek, fresh and inviting pieces teasing us to betray our un-Swedish, and yet still serviceable couch and chairs.

My flesh was weak. I was a furniture-testing whore. I am ashamed. Forgive me ye old purplish-overstuffed-and-over-sized-for-the-living-room couch that I once adored. Forgive me reddish-microfiber-sleeper-sofa and one-and-a-half-sized chair that fits a one-and-a-half-sized ass, for I have sinned.

Yet I refuse to live a life of regrets even for impulsive and ill-conceived desires. What has been done cannot be undone. I've felt the rush of a new lust, and I no longer see you, my purple and reddish cohorts, as titillating enough for me.

Alas, neither my bank account, nor my Volvo wagon, was able to accommodate my hedonistic desires. So live with you I must; though I no longer feel pleasured by your embrace.

Still the wanton seed has been planted. My derriere has been cradled by the firm support of the doesn't-have-to-try-too-hard-low-profile-and-oh-so-sleek leather sofa. My eyes have wandered over it's proportionally correct arms and legs and lingered lustily on the ever-so-slightly-arched back.

The seven year itch is getting under my skin; I want you.

Let the chase begin.

Time for a garage sale.

Missing Post from May 13th when Blogger was down for the count

2011-05-22T17:45:00.000-07:00

Mama Can Dance

Just another WordPress.com site

On Change

Today was a no school day, so our son climbed into bed with us this morning as we were watching the news. He commented on a commercial stating a product’s price of $9.99 and he asked me this:

If something cost $9.99 and I had $10.00, would I really want the penny for change? Absolutely I told him! I started to go into the whole “a penny saved is a penny earned” scenario and how all those pennies can add up to something eventually. I told him how I once went to a coffee shop and the cashier, a very young lady, rang up my purchase of $3.95. She gave me back a dollar and I just stood there dumbfounded for a minute. I asked her for my nickel and she said, and I kid you not, “You mean, you really want your nickel? What can you do with a nickel?” True – not much, but I said “Doesn’t really matter what I want to do with it, but it does matter that I get to choose to do something with it because it is MY nickel, is it not?” She had that air of ‘whatever’ about her and I’m sure she thought I was a cheap old lady – okay cheap middle-aged lady, but the point is it was my change and not hers. I was going to give a tip – even though I came up to the counter, paid and waited there to pick up my drink. Frankly, I’ve always wondered why that warranted a tip, but I was planning to up until she acted like five cents wasn’t worth giving to me and I realized she didn’t have an appreciation for money – specifically my money – so why waste it on her?

Change – asked for, or not – embrace it, gather it and build upon it. You never know what you might be able to do with it.

Tonight, as I was about to write this post after watching Tangled with the family, I discovered that Blogger was out of commission. I panicked for a moment, then went to the Google group for the blogathon and read how others were handling the ‘outage’. A few days ago I was still trying to figure out how to read, use and post on the discussion threads and bit by bit I’ve figured it out – things are starting to add up!

I thought about writing my post and then waiting to see if Blogger came back up, but it was suggested it might be a good time to try WordPress. Embracing change – even when it is thrust upon me (it’s always worth something, right?), I forged ahead, or more appropriately WordPress(ed) on!

Later, the son was flipping a penny and asking me to call heads or tails. We played this for a while and he started to just set the penny down on my nightstand. He stopped and instead headed for his bedroom. He dropped the penny in his piggy bank. The kid has a few cents, and immeasurable sense.

Cha ching! Motto: Little changes, over time, add up to something greater.

Here I come WordPress – here I come. Change is good.

Well, Since We're All Still Here. Rock On!

2011-05-22T15:43:00.000-07:00

Life has been so busy that I almost missed the whole end of the world commotion and discussion. Which got me wondering; what if it had been my last day on earth? Would I have been satisfied with my life up to that point? Or, would I have a long list of things I've been putting off until the ever enigmatic "someday" when there is more time?

More time. What a bunch of crap. There is no such thing as more time. Time is time; sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, 24 hours in a day. It's not like we can 'super size' those units of measurement by cramming in a few extra seconds, minutes or hours. The only thing we can do is fill those bits of time with the things that matter most.

I'm reminded of the Stephen Covey concept of putting the big rocks in first.
Every now and then I remember that analogy when I'm buzzing around doing things that don't matter much, but can't seem to make myself stop. Covey's whole premise is that if you put the big rocks in first, the little rocks will be able to fall into the cracks and crevices in between. However, if you fill up your container with all the little pebbles and rocks first, the big rocks probably won't fit.

Now that I have a doomsday reprieve, it's time to really think: Is what I'm doing with my time really my heart's desire, or just keeping me busy enough not to ask what my heart truly desires? Good question. Tough question, but good question. It's one that can't be asked just once in a lifetime. It's a question to be asked over and over because the answers change as I change.

It's also a question that is consistently being asked in a class I'm taking right now called "Ignite the Spark (TM)". A very good, soul-searching, success-pattern defining class developed by heartspark, facilitated by a woman who does truly evoke magic, Susan Clark. It is helping me own the unique gifts I bring to the party of life. I finally decided to squeeze the class into the whirl of life's busyness, and I'll admit it is sometimes downright difficult to get into the proper head space for the rigorous questioning and answering, but the other participants come ready to play, so I must too.

It's time to devote myself to my homework for "Ignite the Spark (TM)"; asking myself the big question: What do I want? Of course there is a lot more to the homework than just this one question, but the question starts me on the path to gather those big rocks. The heavy lifting begins now.

Want to join me?

What is your heart telling you?

What are your big rocks?

The King and a Really Hot Singer

2011-05-21T21:44:00.000-07:00

I'm running out of ideas for daily posts for this blog, so my son came to my rescue tonight and agreed to be interviewed. And, because he's also working on the Showman Cub Scout activity badge, he will be doing this interview as two puppet characters: King Singebeard, and Ruby Goldfire, the three-headed singing dragon.

I should also point out that tonight was his closing performance as Chris in his school's production of the musical "There's a Monster in My Closet" and it was a blast! He's well on his way to the Showman badge.

So, without further adieu, I introduce you to King Singebeard and Ruby Goldfire.

Me: King Singebeard, how did you and Ruby meet?

King: Um, I hatched Ruby from an egg I found lying in my garden.

Me: Ruby, was King Singebeard the first thing you saw when you came out of your shell?

Ruby: Well, I saw his boots first, but I guess that counts as him being the first thing I saw, but then I saw a dragon next to him. I thought he was my dad.

Me: King, does that mean that dragons imprint on the first thing they see, and assume it's their mother?

King: Actually, I should've said this before, but I raise and train dragons as a hobby, sort of like people who breed and show dogs. They will, or won't imprint - sometimes they do and sometimes they don't. Luckily I was quick enough to find Ruby's real mother so Ruby saw her first, and then I told her I was not her dad; I was her mother's trainer.

Me: Ruby, did you know what he meant by trainer? Did he train your mother and other dragons to be kind to people in the kingdom?

Ruby: I didn't know what he meant by 'training' at first, but then my mother explained it to me later. Training meant that he trained us to be kind and to rescue people in danger.

Me: So, Ruby, how did you come to be known as the three-headed singing dragon?

Ruby: When I was young, I had a very good voice, so my mother sent me to have an audience with King Singebeard, and he started giving me lessons on singing. Luckily, he was a really good singer and he knew how to teach me to harmonize all three of my voices.

Me: Ruby, what kinds of songs do you sing?

Ruby: I can sing a few very common songs like "Jingle Bells", "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star", and "London Bridge is Burning Down".

Me: Don't you mean "London Bridge is Falling Down"?

Ruby: Mmmm, not if you're a dragon!

Me: King Singebeard, how many dragons have you trained?

King: Ruby was my 200th dragon, but I have now hatched two additional dragons. Once they are trained, it will be 202!

Me: So, King, how did get the name Singebeard?

King: Well, it is actually a very funny and embarrassing story. When I first became King, I was learning to train my first dragon, and things went a little in the wrong direction. I was trying to get the dragon to toast a marshmallow for s'mores, but the dragon didn't have good eyesight and thought my newly grown beard was a marshmallow, and toasted my beard instead.

Me: King, where does Ruby perform these days?

King: She has just auditioned for a singing competition. Perhaps you've heard of it? It's "Dragon Idol". We are currently waiting to see if she got into the competition.

Me: King, can you introduce me to your two newest dragons?

King: Right now they are probably sleeping. Because they are young, they take many naps. We cannot show them to you now, but I can tell you their names. One of them is called Marshmallow because he is golden and puffy just like a toasted marshmallow. The other one is called Magma because he has very dark red scales, and a temper! You just never know when he's going to blow - fire that is.

Me: Well thank you both King Singebeard and Ruby Goldfire for taking the time to chat with me this evening. I know you've both had a very long day, as has your puppeteer!

King: You're welcome, and now we must get back to training Ruby's voice for the competition. Be sure to watch and see if Ruby made it on to the show. Goodnight.

Ruby: "There's a sad little clanging from the clock in the hall... ahhhhhh, good nighhhhhhhhht. Good nigggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhttttttttt. Good niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhttttttttt."

Special thanks to my very helpful and creative son for playing along with me this evening! I could not have blogged without you tonight.

So, The Day Went Like This; And I Quote:

2011-05-20T22:07:00.000-07:00

On Waking: "I have a "carpe diem" mug and, truthfully, at six in the morning the words do not make me want to seize the day. They make me want to slap a dead poet." ~Joanne Sherman.

I slapped the snooze instead.

On Driving: "I don't think jogging is healthy, especially morning jogging. If morning joggers knew how tempting they looked to morning motorists, they would stay home and do sit-ups." ~Rita Rudner.

However, it is much easier to eat your breakfast
and drink coffee while driving than while
running, so clearly I won!

On Work: "Be pleasant until ten o'clock in the morning and the rest of the day will take care of itself." ~Elbert Hubbard.

Close enough...

On Lunch: "Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so." ~ Douglas Adams.

Recess is over already?

On Afternoons: “It's an ill plan that cannot be changed." ~ Latin Proverb.

Damn it! Pencil, pencil, pencil.
Always write it in pencil.

On Second Thought: “If you don't design your own life plan, Chances are you'll fall into someone else's plan. And guess what they have planned for you? Not much" ~ Jim Rohn.

I need more than not much; I'm greedy that way.

Onward: "I really want to play Princess Leia. Stick some big pastries on my head. Now that would be interesting." ~ Ewan McGregor.

Alas, somebody has to be backstage...,
but next time we all get pasties - er,
I mean pastries, right?

On the Money: "Payday came and with it beer." ~Rudyard Kipling.

You can either have a six pack, or drink a six pack.
Guess which way I'm going tonight?

On My Pillow: "Three meals plus bedtime make four sure blessings a day." ~ Mason Cooley.

Did I mention the beer? That makes it five.
Oh, and don't forget the Nutella; that is six...
and seven... and eight...
- oh hell goodnight already.

Soft Focus on the Future

2011-05-19T21:50:00.000-07:00

"One reason so few of us achieve what we truly want
is that we never direct our focus;
we never concentrate our power.
Most people dabble their way through life,
never deciding to master anything in particular." -Tony Robbins

Today had the potential to be a very stressful day: Map test, debut of school play, play practice after school, and Tae Kwon Do belt test. All of this on not enough sleep because last night, after my son did his homework, we played Battleship and then danced to some old disco music, 'cuz that's what I like to do. In my defense, he was pretty tightly wound due to a lot of activities culminating this week, so we had some energy to work out. He didn't get to bed until about 10 p.m. and I know that was way too late, but we were having a great time together. However, waking up tired this morning, the day could have easily gone south.

It didn't; turned out to be a great day for him. The map test went well, the play was great, practice went smoothly and he decided to finish his homework while waiting during practice, then off to the belt test which he was extremely excited for. Nervous, no - excited, absolutely!

Tae Kwon Do is something he's been wanting to do for quite a while. Tonight was his second test and, for the second time, he got the blue star for highest score for his belt level (more sewing for mom), and he was recognized as the best tester, receiving the highest score out of the whole class.

Now, this is where you might think I'm going to brag about his skills and ability and how he just nailed the test, and I'd love to, but that is not the part that impressed me most. You might even think I would be impressed by the way he walked through this day it with confidence, serenity and absolute joy. Yes, I was, but that wasn't the best part either.

What impressed me most, is the way he responded when he received his star, recognition, and new belt. Even though I knew he was absolutely thrilled and excited, he didn't bust out a big grin or wiggle at all. He just smiled ever so slightly and humbly, and his eyes held a soft, yet strong and steady gaze. It was the look of someone who knows they worked their butt off for something important to them, and it paid off. It was the look of pride in self coupled with tremendous humility in the moment.

Right then I saw a glimpse into the future; the man he will become. I had to catch my breath. Yes, there will be rough times; he's had a few this year. There will be challenges to meet, compromises to make, personalities to negotiate, and obstacles to overcome, but he's learning how. He knows what he wants and that he must work hard for it. Tonight he saw how that kind of work pays off - not for anyone else, but for himself.

Many times I look at my son, see a very wise old soul, and wonder how I got so lucky. I'm not sure who's teaching who, because when I truly listen to what he has to say, it's so much better than anything I could come up with. Yes, the kid takes my breath away at least once every day, but today he filled me with such awe that I'm still breathless.

As I put this sweet child to bed, I will bow to him in love and respect and kiss the living daylights out of him. Then, I will bow to the universe for this most precious gift, and most grateful.

Blowin' Your Top and Carrying On

2011-05-18T21:55:00.000-07:00

31 years ago today, Mount St. Helens felt a rumble in her belly and all hell broke loose.

It was my senior year in high school, and although I have an overall memory of the event, the details of the actual fallout escape me, except for a couple of people I heard a lot about over the course of years:

Harry Truman, the crotchety old man who owned and operated the Spirit Lake Lodge, and refused to leave his home and mountain; and David Johnston, the geologist who first reported the eruption and whose last words heard were, "Vancouver! Vancouver! This is it!"

I had been to Spirit Lake two years earlier for a leadership camp. The area was breathtakingly beautiful. That was my first thought on the morning of the 18th as I heard about, and began to see the effects of, the eruption of the mountain.

Years later, my husband, son and I stopped at the Johnston Ridge observatory; the first time I had physically seen the area since I was 16 years old. To see the way the landscape and environment had changed, even though years had passed and plants and animals had returned, was sobering.

Today, 31 years later, I honor the memory of the 57 victims - some boldly within the danger zone, and so many others who believed, as did the experts, that they were a safe distance away. One never knows the true force nature has at her disposal.

The beauty of the mountain is different today than it was then, but it's still a beauty.

Mood Music

2011-05-17T23:12:00.000-07:00

I'm still new at downloading music onto my iPhone, so my phone has a limited selection. My husband gave me an iTunes card the other day and I decided to use some of it tonight and beef up my music library.

Looking at the list of songs I downloaded tonight, I'm wondering if there's something akin to palmistry out there to divine one's mood through a history of music downloads. Shall we call it iPodistry?

Tonight I downloaded the following:

1. Freak Out
2. You Dropped a Bomb On Me
3. Disco Inferno
4. Ring My Bell

5. When Doves Cry
6. Car Wash

and finally.............
7. Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

Subtle or not so subtle subtext here? Or could this just mean that I'm a woman of a certain age (which I am) who remembers these songs from her youth with joy and nostalgia (which I do).

But, I hate to discourage analysis and a good story, so let the '-iPodistry' begin, and let me know what you come up with. It might be much more interesting that what is actually going on!

Let's Pretend

2011-05-16T23:15:00.000-07:00

Let's pretend that I have a great idea for a topic to write about tonight! While we're at it, let's pretend that I have plenty of time to think about this flipping fantastic topic and solitude in which to write spectacular words of wisdom.

Then, let's pretend that the prose is so incredibly witty, wonderful and wise that it becomes one of those little ditties that gets copied and pasted and sent around Facebook and Twitter, over and over until I become something of an urban legend. Or, let's pretend, that as with all urban legends, my name gets lost in the translation and this is somehow then attributed to someone who knows how to handle their online presence - someone like say Ashton Kutcher.

Let's pretend that I'm too busy to realize that my words have been usurped, not by Ashton himself, but by the masses, eager to give Ashton praise for being oh so clever and coy. He will deny having written such inane drivel and try desperately to clear up this whole stupid mess.

What? DRIVEL???????? Oh now Ashton, you've gone too far - you've gone, like, two and a half times tooooooooooooo far! I'll have my people call your people and we will stop all of this right now.

Let's pretend I had my own "people" to call anyone's people, and if I had them, I'm sure they would want to be paid for their "people-ness". In order to pay them, I would have to have written so many other things of substance and worth, not just quippy little bits picked up by non-paying online sites. If I were writing those, I would likely not have time to have written something that would make social media rounds, and be attributed to celebrity tweeters.

So, you see my conundrum?

Maybe Ashton could get me a deal on one of those cameras he promotes? And, we'd get to be great friends and Demi would give me all her secrets for how to stay so slim and gorgeous. If we're pretending, let's also pretend I'm younger than her....I said we are pretending.

Like I said, let's pretend I have a great topic to write about tonight. Although, I'm sure using Ashton Kutcher's name in and of itself is likely to get me some extra Google hits and make this a self-fulfilling prophecy of the social media kind.

Let's pretend anyway...

My Bed is Vibrating

2011-05-15T18:40:00.000-07:00

Yep, you read that right and you're probably wondering whether or not you should keep reading. Whether this is a 'family' show kind of blog, or one of those other blogs - the kind you read when no one's looking. What? You don't know what I'm talking about? Then either do I - I have no idea what those would be. Really okay?

You're safe because this is the former. So family friendly in fact that the reason my bed is vibrating is because my son is bouncing up and down on it, while asking me if I'm done writing my blog yet. To which I had to say no. Because in spite of the fact that he made a sign and hung it on my robe on the bedpost, I've been sitting here in bed, laptop at the ready - waiting for an idea. La di da di da... waiting and waiting.

While I waited, I clicked through a number of cable channels deciding that I must have the Malibu Pilates Chair and the exercise DVDs. I also must have the Genie Bra and the Zumba Fitness DVDs with the little hand-held shaker stick thingies. Then, because I never buy anything without researching it further, I popped on to Amazon and started searching exercise DVDs. Did I mention I was sitting on my a$$ in bed while doing all this?

On Amazon I found lots and lots of things I absolutely and positively must have! Like, the above Pilates chair, several fun and inspiring dance instructional DVDs, a couple of e-books and ooh, I really want that Zumba Wii game - really, really want that. Relax honey (aka my husband) if you're reading this; I did not purchase anything because your son saved the day.

Now, my son is waiting patiently for me to finish my "work" (aka - writing this blog today). He's sitting here beside me now, reading the comics, watching the Cooking Channel's Food(ography), and reading over my shoulder making color commentary as I write. The bed is still sort of vibrating because he's a kid and rarely sits completely still.

I'm done now. Ooh wait; I just saw an ad for a Tempur-Pedic bed! Hmm. Even though mama can dance, there are times I like to sit on my fanny and I think having my weight equally distributed, for once in my life, sounds like a good thing.

I wonder if Amazon sells Tempur-Pedics?

The Point of it All

2011-05-14T20:54:00.000-07:00

"Weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless." - Bill Watterson

It's the weekend, and this weekend, just like every other weekend, my whole family naively hopes for two days of rest. It just ain't gonna happen this weekend, or next, or.... Unfortunately I can see our scheduled events a few weeks out and there isn't much down time coming our way for a month or so.

This makes my son very cranky (truth be told it makes my husband and me cranky too). Children, if allowed, still have the ability to play, relax and not feel like they have to accomplish something, or fulfill all expectations. Sadly though, most families, like mine, have a laundry list of things that have to be done, errands that need to be run, events where they have to show, and don't forget the lawns they need to mow! Cutting grass really gripes my, my... you know what.

“We're so busy watching out for what's just ahead of us that we don't take time to enjoy where we are.” - Calvin and Hobbes quote

I don't know about you, but the busier life gets, the less time I have to keep things in order at home and prepare for the week ahead. I sometimes, okay all the time, feel I'm barely lifting my head in time to see the next hurdle I have to jump, and even though I know there's a string of them up ahead, I can't look too far ahead or I'll stumble - just gotta clear the one in front of me first, then I'll look to the next one. I gotta be honest, my hurdling form is absolute crap, and in my fatigue and rush to tackle each one, some get knocked down, dragged for a bit, and generally roughed up. No one said it had to be pretty.

Busy, busy, busy - yep everyone is these days and there really isn't any feasible way to fit it "all" in - somethings got to give. Usually, the recoup, relax and recover aspect of a weekend is the part that gives way because we don't get to that until everything has been crossed off the list.

Anyone out there every crossed everything off their list? Anyone? Didn't think so. Me either.

I'm not a religious person by definition, but there is something to be said for a day of rest. Keeping one day at least, a day to slow it all down and just kick back and hang out. Commune with your higher power if that's your thing, or just sit with your family, or dog, or yourself!

A year or so ago, my family was dedicated to breaking bread, lighting candles and celebrating Shabbat every week. My son really looked forward to this quiet time to wind down with the family and it really set the mood for the weekend. We didn't always take a whole 24 hours to recoup, but we certainly took some time to slow down, and the strangest thing happened. We still seemed to get just as much of the really necessary stuff done as we did before.

Why? Because when we slowed down for a bit and gave ourselves a break, we recharged the battery and were more focused, efficient, and way more fun to be around - a bonus! We were able to look at all those hurdles and instead of just a knee-jerk reaction to get over them, we did an end-run around some that didn't matter to us. Knowing the difference between what's important to you, and being able to say no to things that aren't, takes a little bit of clarity. Clarity is easier to come by when you take time to inhale and exhale completely.

As we near the end of the school year, my son is looking forward to a summer BREAK - an honest to goodness break. I've been perusing the parks catalog for all kinds of activities and camps for him to participate in, but he is not interested. Nope - he wants to do something that I remember doing when I was his age. Play! Can you imagine? He just wants to play, run around, read, hang out and have time to do something really and truly important for a young mind - experience boredom. I think that's a worthy goal for a 10 year old.

Proper training for any new endeavor is important, so perhaps we should try it for a weekend first? You know, like a warm up.

Savoring the Sweetness of Life

2011-05-13T22:11:00.000-07:00

“To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special.” - Jim Valvano

Life is like eating an ice cream cone.

One minute its packed firmly in place and you are filled with joy and anticipation. The next it's dripping all over the place and making a sticky mess. There are days you can lick it, and days you lose your grip.

But no matter what, you have to just dig in and start tasting it. Don't try to save it for later, because each moment melts away faster than you ever imagined.

So, this is for my son, who just last week, smiled and laughed and enjoyed his cone. Until he dropped it. Then there were tears; lots and lots of tears.

So this week's cone was handled with more intention and delight. Intention and delight; good words for a good week.

Dancing for Dollars - And Damn Proud of It

2011-05-11T22:33:00.000-07:00

Cancer sucks. I know so many people who have had cancer scares, have cancer, have survived cancer, and unfortunately have been lost to cancer. One young woman, a relative and friend, lost this battle a few weeks ago. Another woman, a friend and neighbor to my parents, is losing the battle this week. And sadly, there are so many more every single day.

For the last two years I have participated in the Komen for the Cure 3-Day Breast Cancer Walk; walking 60 miles in three days to help raise money to fight breast cancer. I've walked it with some amazing women - my teammates and friends, and thousands of other women I did not know. It was an uplifting and humbling experience. Women move whole worlds and get things done!

I decided to take a break from the training and fundraising for the walk this year, just one little break. Funny thing is, cancer doesn't take a break. That rat bastard just seems to feed off so many beautiful, kind and giving souls in this world - it's a greedy SOB.

Ah, but women are tireless, and we seem to rise to the occasion in whatever way possible, and come to the aid of a sister in need, to help battle this disease and the toll it takes on everything in a person's life.

On Saturday, I will meet up with a bunch of belly dancers - some I know well, some I've just met, and many I have never met and we will dance on World Belly Dance Day in support of a fellow member of the Portland belly dance community, Denise Oberon Amato. She's one of those beautiful souls who is trying to dance away from cancer - again. She's survived breast cancer in the past, but now is fighting cancer again.

Like I said, women move things, and on Saturday, May 14th at 2:30 in Pioneer Courthouse Square, several members of the belly dance community will move hips en mass for a flash mob dance sequence. It's a grass roots effort by women who know and love Oberon and the intent is to raise money to help her with her mounting medical bills. Donations from dancers, audience members and anyone who cares to help, will be accepted.

While I never thought I would be the kind of woman who danced for dollars, or COULD dance for dollars, I'm privileged to shake whatever money maker I've got left, and shimmy with my sisters to keep a gifted dancer in the dance of life.

If you care to donate, or participate, please check the World Belly Dance Flash Mob Facebook page for more information. Donations can also be made to a PayPal account set up to accept donations for Oberon at PDXOPENWALLS@Frontier.com, or mailed to:

Denise Oberon Amato
c/o Silk Road Flowers
P.O Box 13445
Portland, OR 97213

Check out the YouTube video for the choreography if any of you dancing hearts out there care to join us! The more the merrier.

Haiku

2011-05-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

Today is theme day for the blogathon - posting a haiku. Okay, so it's not exactly about nature, but it is my life today. So, without further adieu........

Wash and Wearing Me Out

laundry mound you tease
tumbled and yet not bone dry
time for new dryer?

Okay, I'll try one about nature...........sort of.

Georrrrrrge! (Oh Yes, He Did!)

my furry pant leg
is not a big deal compared
with crap in kitchen

Anata wa?

I Am The Warrior - Oh Yea

2011-05-09T22:20:00.000-07:00

On my birthday I would never turn down a heartfelt wish, a hug, a smile, a laugh, a dance, or a walk for a mile. A cup of coffee, a compliment, a kiss, a note, a card, a flower, a lift, a foot rub, a call, a joke, advice, a wink, a nod, a talk, a friend. A need, a desire, a wrong path, a certain look, warm bread and jam, a well-loved book, a raised glass, a slap on the ass, a tear, a jump in the lake, and most definitely I would never turn down any kind of cake.

On my birthday I turn it all up, so the next year I begin, not just a little older, but a little bit higher on life than I was the year before. Turning up for life instead of giving up on it.

Because, as Joseph Campbell said, "The warrior's approach is to say 'yes' to life: 'yea' to it all."

I am the warrior.

Mother's Day Gold

2011-05-08T22:20:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day was supposed to start out with a quarter marathon walk. I had planned to write about the experience of walking with a sea of women early on Mother's Day morning. Plus, I really wanted the medal. Badly.

Sadly, my body wasn't cooperating. I kept hoping I would feel up to it, and picked up my bib and shirt yesterday - all the while hoping I could rally. I really wanted that medal.

This morning it just wasn't meant to be, so my husband and son brought me coffee in bed, cut fresh lilacs from the yard and brought me cards and chocolates. They spoiled me rotten and I really appreciated it. I thanked them and told them how lovely it all was, but I kept mumbling about how I wished I had been able to walk this morning. I really wanted that medal!

I grumbled about it as they brought me more coffee in bed, as my son waved the box of Moonstruck chocolates under my nose, as they put the fresh flowers on the table, as I opened the cards, and even as my husband set about making breakfast for me. Damn,I wanted that medal! I kept verbally chastising myself for not being tougher, not pushing through, not, well, not being enough.

Yet here were two people who love and treasure me, and were showing me with their efforts that I was enough for them. But, I just couldn't get the woulda, shoulda, coulda out of my head. Finally, my son said, "Mom! Let it go already! You can do it next year if you want."

Did I mention that I really wanted that medal to hang around my neck?

My son could clearly see that I had not yet let it go. He came over to me, wrapped his arms around my neck, kissed me and said "Happy Mother's Day. I love you." Then, I looked over at the card he made me and realized - he's the gold medal.

He's where the rainbow starts....

And, he's the reason for the journey.

Thank you my golden boy!

Living Dangerously

2011-05-07T11:51:00.000-07:00

According to medical researchers in the Netherlands, there are eight triggers of daily life that can raise the risk of a rupture for those with existing brain aneurysms. These triggers raise the blood pressure for about an hour after the activity, and thus increase the pressure on the aneurysm.

This is only problematic if you are one of the 2-3% of the population who has a brain aneurysm, and then, only .00009% of those may experience a rupture. Unless you've had a brain scan recently, you might never know if you have one of these little buggers lurking. Like we don't have enough to worry about these days.

Since my mother had a stroke a couple of years ago, I read this news report with interest, although we still don't know what exactly caused my mother's stroke. So, I read the list and it is full of daily (okay not ALL of them daily - make your own guesses here) life activities.

Let me count the ways I live dangerously, according to this study anyway.

Get up, have a cup of coffee - 10.4% increase in risk. Still okay? Okay, I'll have another and another. Hey, they didn't say how many cups of coffee, did they?

Blowing your nose increases the risk by 5.4%, so with a spring cold and allergies kicking in, 5.4% increase about, oh 75 times a day. Still kicking.

Vigorous exercise ups the odds by 7.9%. Today that won't be a problem. Although exercise does give me more energy, and I need a little lift. Soda pop gives you a 3.5% bump up, but I don't drink soda - score one for me! Feeling smug about that one, I pour myself another cup of coffee. Yeah, I know - 10.4% again. Que sera sera.

Since I'm a wife, mother and teacher, very little in life spooks me. Which is a good thing because being startled jolts you up another 2.7%. I guess there are benefits to having seen it all, or most of it anyway. However, my birthday is near and I'm not opposed to a fun surprise or two - wiling to risk it. Hint, hint honey.

After all that coffee, I gotta go potty. Luckily, peeing doesn't raise my risk at all. Although, at some point, everybody poops - up another 3.6% if you're not fibered up. You're just going to have to wonder on this one - I have a few lines of privacy left that I won't cross; today anyway. I think I'll grab an apple for a snack, you know for insurance. Can't hurt.

Even though it's the weekend, it's still early in the day. For those of you inclined toward some afternoon delight, beware! You're lusty dalliance just spiked your odds up another 4.3%. There's always a price to pay for indulging in pleasure, huh? I'm assuming that is an averaged percentage because a lot depends on, well you know. Still, I am nothing if not discreet. Actually, I'm rarely discreet, but like I said - it's still early in the day.

Frankly, this whole study kind of pisses me off. It sensationalizes that which we already know. Living, my friends is dangerous and leads to death. Dammit; up another 1.3%.

I don't entirely trust a study that says my odds of dying are greater by drinking coffee, exercising, having sex, relieving myself, blowing my nose and being surprised than they are by getting pissed off several times a day.

I guess I'm just a high-flying risk taker at heart. Bring it!

Now, where's my box of tissues? Bring me another cup of coffee too - yeah, I'm a badass.

Give a Gift to Yourself and Your Kids This Mother's Day

2011-05-06T20:29:00.000-07:00

According to this article in the Huffington Post, what mother's want most for Mother's Day is well-behaved children.

Really? Is that something you can 'ask' for? What exactly constitutes 'well-behaved' anyway? I ask this question as I'm being circled and swooped upon by a wooden-sword wielding ninja in an electric blue kimono robe with "Guitar Man" embroidered on the back. So far nothing has been knocked over or broken. Uh wait - he just went down the hall to his bedroom and I heard a wee bit of a crash.... No screams, so things must be okay.

Distracting? Little bit. Nerve-wracking? Oh yeah - that sword could hurt me. Well-behaved? Good enough most of the time. Creative and fun? Most definitely. Granted we are in the privacy of our home, so I can be mostly at ease; the dog isn't very judgmental.

If what mothers want for their special day is a well-behaved kid, how do they think that happens? I realize that some kids are just born easier to raise than others - I teach, so I do know kids come in a wide-variety of personalities and temperments. As a mother, I also recognize that not everything a child does is caused by some parental malfunction. Sometimes kids just do immature (i.e. kid-like) things!

I also know that each and every child has something special to offer their family, friends and the world. Sometimes those unique gifts come in a highly charged package that would be best contained in a padded room from time to time to minimize collateral damage.

What moms may really be asking for is a day we don't have to explain or apologize for our spawn's behavior or infractions, or to talk to our baby in a psychotherapist-tone-of-voice when in public. Perhaps we want a day when we don't have to leave the store during a tantrum, and return later to finish the errand. Sometimes we just might want to tell other people to mind their own damn business, ignore the tantrum and grab a mondo-sized chocolate bar because we damn well deserve it.

My interpretation of this Mother's Day wish is a day off from worrying what other people think of our parenting skills. I mean, everyone knows that children are a reflection of their parents, mothers especially, right?

Well, yes and no. We can teach and teach and not see daily results, but we know that eventually the little darling will most likely grow up to be a kind, caring, responsible, healthy and happy adult. Getting them to that stage is the primary goal. Assuming the child is not a little Jack the Ripper, the occasional misbehavior, rowdiness at inconvenient times, or failure to control emotions 24X7 is really not a big deal.

People may shoot disapproving looks in your direction. So what? What do those people mean to you? Does their opinion really matter to you? Your children are a partial reflection of you it's true. Instead of spending so much time worrying about how your children reflect upon you, look in their eyes to see how you are reflected in theirs.

What you will see is the image of a woman who is loved unconditionally - perhaps messily and imperfectly at times, but loved with open arms, hearts and a youthful abandon. You are their home and their heart.

So the next time someone stares at you, or dares to comment about your kid during a less than perfect moment. Look them dead in the eye and say, "He has chosen the more arduous route to adulthood - the one that begins in infancy with pit stops through childhood and adolescence. When he gets there he'll be so damn amazing! It takes a lot more courage to go this route than it does to spring from a mother's loins fully grown and complete. I'm so proud of him."

Then look your kid in the eye and take note. They might stare at you with a wee bit of confusion, or suspicion, or even shock. But if you look closer you will see that reflection of you, surrounded by a twinkle that says, "my mama rocks".

The best gift of all - even better than a day alone - don't you think?

Twinkle on mamas!

What's Your Story?

2011-05-05T21:27:00.000-07:00

"History is herstory, too." ~Author Unknown

I was going to write a little blurb about Cinco de Mayo celebrations and whether or not those of us that are consuming some sort of agave-based beverage really know the story of the day. It's about a battle, as are a number of different holidays in any number of nations. The party usually benefits the victor. Viva la margarita!

However, I decided to take a different view on the day by Googling this date in women's history, and I found that Lucia True Ames Mead was born on this day in 1856, and she was all about peace. She was an educator who believed in teaching children about peace, and she published many works on peace - including materials for teachers.

Her works were published by the American Peace Society as a Primer of the Peace Movement. She was also instrumental in establishing, and organizing celebrations for, "Peace Day" (May 18th) in schools across the United States. Mead also presented "Peace Teaching in the Schools" at the American Institute of Education's annual conference in 1906. She was so persistent in her efforts to produce materials to assist teachers in the planning of a curriculum on peace that she published a book entitled Patriotism and the New Internationalism.

Later on, during World War I, she was heavily involved with the Women's Peace Party, and because of her position within the organization and her stance on the war, was considered "dangerous"; something that makes me want to read more about her.

As an educator, I see all too often that kids don't have many opportunities to think and form their own opinions and philosophies about world events, war and peace. Mostly they are just given data and facts to memorize and repeat.

In an age where we have so much access to news and "news-like" information on all kinds of media, and where kids have access to so many types of technologies that assault their senses with images of violence and sexuality, we are further and further from teaching critical thinking in a time when it is most needed.

I find it disheartening that only one teacher this week mentioned having a student bring up the killing of Osama Bin Laden, and the kid didn't bring it up to ask anything, but instead to say "Hey, did you hear that we 'got' Bin Laden?" Hmmm. If a kid isn't asking any questions about things they've heard or seen, then I think we've got ourselves a tremendous problem.

We aren't raising and educating thinkers anymore because teaching kids to think takes time - and teaching kids to learn how to think and question isn't measured on standardized tests that rank the schools.

If kids don't get chances to think and question, then they will only comprehend a very small part of what they are told, and the larger story will be forever lost.

Top Five Movie Titles for Dancing Mamas

2011-05-04T21:49:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of keeping this short and sweet today, here are the top five dancing movie titles that describe a day, or night, in the life of us mamas.

1. "Saturday Night Fever": Generally followed by boogie, er, I mean booger nights.

2. "Stomp the Yard": Although stomping usually occurs in much more public places - like grocery stores, and not just by the kids.

3. "The Full Monty": Some kids prefer to be unencumbered by things like diapers, or clothing.

4. "Staying Alive": It is the goal after all, right?

5. "Dirty Dancing": Because nobody puts baby in a corner, but mama may clear a path through a room by stacking baby's toys in a corner.

Mamas, keep on dancing through your days and know that you are one singular sensation!

Sole to Soul

2011-05-03T21:41:00.000-07:00

Saturday I had the pleasure of dancing with a beautiful group of women at a belly dance showcase in town. It was my first time performing with a dance troupe at such an event and I expected to feel nervous. Surrounded by my tribe, I felt confident and strong.

Two years ago I took on the challenge of walking the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure 60 mile fundraising walk. I expected that I might not reach my fundraising goal and that I might not make the whole 60 miles. Supported and encouraged by my teammates, I met the goal and finished the walk and did it again the next year.

I could say that I’m proud of myself for meeting both of these challenges and putting myself out there. I could say that I worked hard for both of them and put in time and toil. I could say that I sacrificed time to make both happen. I could say all of that, and it would be partly true.

The other part that’s true is I didn’t do either of those things alone. I couldn’t have, and I’m convinced I wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for several beautiful, funny, smart, strong and supportive women friends.

When I set out to train for the walk, I had friends who walked beside me, and met new friends along the way. We walked for hours on the weekends. Yes, it was a sacrifice to get up at 5:00 a.m. on a Saturday or Sunday – sometimes both - and walk for miles and miles in all kinds of weather. It was a sacrifice we looked forward to each week. We’d head out, coffee in hand, an occasional stop for doughnuts, and talking and laughing for hours at a time. Yep, it was grueling. Well, okay – the body would feel some serious wear and tear, but the spirit would be repaired. Training was heaven with my walkie, talkie dolls!

Then, last year I found a belly dance class. Actually I found the class several years earlier, but the timing was never quite right. Finally I met the teacher and she invited me to her Friday night shimmy. I went and the women were wonderful. I didn’t know how what I was doing, but it felt like home, and we danced. Later that night I cried – a very happy cry. They accepted me, taught me and coached me and allowed me the privilege of dancing with them, beside them, in their circle of sisters. It’s pretty damn amazing to be in a circle of women, and when in the circle you can’t help but see how beautiful all women are – goddesses one and all.

So, yes it is true that I had to get up off my fanny for either of these things to happen. I had to put my both my sole and my soul out there and take a step of one kind or another. The first step was the biggest, but after that I was swept up and carried by the rhythm of the steps of my sisters; arm in arm, hips swaying in unison, stride after stride.

Dolls and Goddesses; these women feed my soul and rock my world. Find your tribe and share your passions – mamas can dance in many, many ways.

War and Stars

2011-05-02T22:40:00.000-07:00

"I would not waste my life in friction when it could be turned into momentum." ~Frances Willard

Today was filled with people discussing the death of Osama Bin Laden - many opinions, many emotions, many agendas, and many justifications of all of the above.

Some were debated with a great deal of passion, and others with a detached solemnity. There is so much hatred in the world, it scares me to think where we may be headed, or more appropriately, sliding back to. Hate, no matter what side you're on, is destructive. Hate does not lend itself to the creation of anything - solutions, art, literature, music, relationships, jobs, economic stability, successful communities or nurturing families.

I'll admit that, while I do not mourn the death of someone so filled with an illogical hatred of my way of life, I also do not celebrate - partly because I don't know what may happen next and partly because my life of the last ten years has not been consumed by the goal of capturing and killing him. I've had that luxury, and I realize that others have not.

Since September 11, 2001, my life has been focused on my son who was three months old at the time. The events of that day, for better or worse, made me realize that my best shot at making change in the world was sleeping in his crib at that moment, and I had damn well better figure out a way to BE there for him in every way a child needs. It is what gets me out of bed every morning.

For many, the capture or death of Osama Bin Laden has been the goal - it was their duty and profession - and they succeeded. I understand their single-minded focus. For the families of those that perished in any number of terrorist incidents inspired or manipulated by him - here and in so many countries abroad - I understand and have empathy for their glee over his demise and do not belittle their feelings. I would be lying if I said I know how they feel; it's impossible for me to know.

But, for the rest of us, I just don't quite get why we are on the bandwagon of hate, division, fault-finding, finger-pointing, credit-claiming and and credit-stripping. The heat of the hate burns us up and keeps us from moving forward, and keeps us divided.

We say it is payback, vengeance, retribution, and justice for those victims, but it keeps their memory stuck in the moment of death. We've kept their memory alive, but it's the memory of the day their flame was extinguished, not the memory of what lit them up daily in their life.

The words of Yoda seem fitting: “Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."

Fear stops us in our tracks, when the goal is to keep moving forward. If we fear, we hate. If we hate, we're suffering. If we're suffering, we aren't living. If we aren't living, we aren't honoring.

There are stars and there are wars - we live in a world with choices. Trenches are for wars, but you have to reach for the stars.

Yoda speaks to my son and he's a wise little soul, my boy. Yoda is a wise little soul too and he's speaking to us all.

Friction or momentum? What's it gonna be?

Never Knowing What the Day May Bring

2011-05-01T22:16:00.000-07:00

Earlier today as I was watching CBS Sunday Morning, I thought I had the perfect topic for my first post of the Blogathon. There was a story about a pole dancing competition. Yep, you read that right - a pole dancing competition. May Day and pole dancing! What could be better?

All day long I contemplated the juxtaposition of the pagan maypole and pole-dancers and plotted my post accordingly. After all, this mama can dance, and dancing of any kind piques my interest.

I thought I knew exactly what I was going to write about when I sat down with the laptop this evening. Then, I turned on the news as I was making dinner and things changed - a lot of things changed. Just as they changed almost ten years ago, when I poured a cup of coffee, turned on the news and realized I had just brought a sweet baby boy into a world that I no longer recognized.

I remember standing there that morning; staring at the television with silent tears running down my face. I was eerily still. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to go pick up my three month old son and hold him tight and never let him go. I wanted to let him sleep, and hope that when he woke, I would learn this was some surreal War of the Worlds-like broadcast moment and we could go back to life as we knew it a few hours earlier.

The catch was, I had just returned to work after my maternity leave the day before. I stood; not knowing what was in store for our world that day and beyond, and realized I had to go to work. I had to bundle up my precious child, take him to daycare and go to a job that really didn't matter all that much. I was raw and vulnerable and I can still feel the sting of the tears as I pulled away from the daycare and went to work, all the while plotting my route back home to be with my baby. That was my focus.

Tonight I watched the news declare that the leader of the terrorists, who up-ended our world almost ten years ago, is dead. I stood still; watching without tears, and wondered what might happen next. Sadly, I don't think this has ended anything because it's like Newton's third law of motion - for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

I watched news coverage of people partying when they heard of Bin Laden's death. I read celebratory Facebook posts from friends galore. Then, I had to explain to my nine year old son who Osama Bin Laden was and why people were celebrating that he had been shot in the head. We watched President Obama's speech - it fit the occasion.

I didn't have a good answer. I still didn't know how I felt - truthfully how I felt about the whole thing since September 11th. How I feel things has changed a lot since then, so I floundered to give him a good answer for what he saw developing on the news. I didn't need to worry though, because my son had a better answer. He said it was up to the gods what to do about him and with him. That most likely Ammit was waiting for him in the underworld, and his fate had been sealed.

I attending a memorial service for a family member on Friday - a celebration of a woman's life. This weekend I was surrounded by dancing women, celebrating the beauty in all of us. Today I watched as people celebrated a death. Don't get me wrong - I shed no tears for a man I did not know - who wreaked such havoc on the world.

I can only wait and wonder, tentatively, what the next day may bring.

My Own – For Now

2010-02-16T23:04:00.000-08:00

"Having children makes you no more a parent than having a piano makes you a pianist" – Michael Levine

Parenting takes practice. As a matter of fact, even though I’ve only been at it for a few years, I think it may not only take practice, but in the grand scheme of it all, it IS a practice. Just as doctors and lawyers have practices, I consider myself to be a parenting practioner, for life.

Which brings me to a sermon I heard a couple of weeks ago, about parents disowning their grown children because of their sexual orientation. It is not the only reason parents disown children – racial, religious, political, and other lifestyle choices also result in kin disowning kin. While you may legally be able to disown a child, I’m not quite sure how you direct your heart to do the same – the heart trades in different social currency.

It made me think, and think hard about my ongoing parenting practice. As a matter of fact, I’m still thinking – especially about the concept of ownership and disownership.

I can see where some parents might get the wrong idea and assume they do, in fact, ‘own’ their children. From the beginning, one way or another they are handed to you, and entrusted into your care. You are responsible for their basic and not so basic needs. Much of this is transitory in nature - is it merely a coincidence that parent contains the word “rent”? I think not.

But own?

It depends what you mean. Own as property? I thought we had abolished the idea that anyone could own another human being more than a few years ago? However, there are many ways “own” can be used, in a positive and nurturing way. Like all the times a child runs to a parent to show them something they accomplished – on their “own” – a profound moment for both parent and child. A moment where the parent acknowledges their practice will undergo a shift in focus – one in a long line of future shifts required to keep the practice viable over time.

As our kids grow, we encourage them to take responsibility for their choices and actions. We tell them not to make excuses, or lay blame on anyone else, or to bend to the pressure of peers. In fact, we tell them they need to “own up” to their actions. The parenting practice requires us to teach them these things; sometimes by example, sometimes by encouragement, and yes, even sometimes by enforcement.

Further down the road we extol to our children the virtue of learning to stand on their “own” two feet. We want them to be happy, successful, productive and independent in the world. And so, along the way, we practice giving them opportunities to stand on their own, and we are there to catch them when needed, lean on if required, pick them up a time or two when warranted, or watch and encourage them to get back up on their own when the time is right. After all, you have to own up before you become a grown up, right?

So many joys and struggles; triumphs and defeats; opportunities and lessons.

So much practice.

Why then, after all that, when your child comes to tell you something about themselves that they know and own – because you’ve taught them to do just that – would you turn away from them?

Why in the world would you not stand in awe of the fact that your amazing child, has developed into a strong, confident, truth-living and seeking individual – owning their life completely?

Isn’t that what we want? Isn’t that what we’ve taught? Isn’t that being a grown up?

If you do turn away, then maybe your child has outgrown you, and perhaps you want to contemplate your parenting. Or you may need more, much more, practice.

Falling Away

2009-11-17T17:40:00.000-08:00

I love autumn. I love the way it bobbles back and forth between the sweet, hot, brightness of summer and the bitter, cold, darkness of winter. It is a time to watch the flowers fade and let the leaves fall away.

In the beginning of the season, much like relationships, the suspense of not knowing what will happen next, or what I want to have happen next, is exciting and titillating. The richness of the colors can seem like a blob of un-thinned oil paint on a palate; too thick and dense to fully absorb. No, this time of year, the colors can’t rightly be called colors. The intensity, the fiery and fully saturated hues, are nature’s way of keeping me guessing, anticipating the changes in my future before I settle in for a little rest and reflection. Its nature’s way of reminding me that there will be opportunities in my life that I can choose to seize, or let pass.

Fall is a metaphor for life and love. We have to be willing to let some things go; let them fall away from our cradling limbs. As parents, we instinctively know this will happen as our children get older. We know there will be a time when we will be challenged to loosen our grip on their tender stems. They may float off in a direction we did not anticipate. They may land in a place we think is too risky, or unsafe, like the leaf that is carried away in a rapidly rushing river. We have no way of knowing what adventures are around the bend, or that the shore they are tossed upon may be exactly where they need to be; an undiscovered terrain – ripe with the opportunities for both peril and potential.

But we also have to loosen our grip on things besides our children. Things like, oh, unrealistic expectations of ourselves and others. We gain nothing by tightly closing our fist around the faded images of our expected life story, and we risk clinging too long to that which previously sustained us, and yet now, no longer lights us up. If we keep hanging on, as the full flush of life is wicked away bit by bit; the images fade and curl up into tighter, less resilient forms we no longer recognize.

Yes, nature knows that in order to bear fruit year after year, the flora must yield and give way, and the hips, all kinds of hips, store energy and begin to plump in preparation for next year’s bloom. Fall leads into the winter for a reason. It’s a necessary hiatus for plants as well as people; a time to reflect and refine our path. For relationships, it’s a time to settle in and get comfortable with each other. This is the time where you learn if you can abide each other in a season of ease.

Besides, who wants to bloom and fruit all year long? It’s too much work! If I’m forced to produce and fruit continually, I can assure you that some of what I bring to bear on the world and my loved ones will not be my full, ripe and juicy best. Bitterness is born of too much, well, too much of anything, including unwieldy and unrelenting growth.

So I am preparing for a season of reflection by opening up. The aspects of my life that have already served their purpose are free to fall away and make room for my new dreams, goals, loves and lessons. I have to open my hand in order to grasp what is in front of me – a hand can only hold so much. I can only seize today if I am willing to let go of yesterday.

I’ll be back later. Right now I’m busy falling away.

Walking a Way

2009-09-29T13:23:00.000-07:00

There are times in your life when you are required to walk a certain path – whether you want to or not. The way has been chosen. It doesn’t matter if you think you are walking toward something or someone, or away. The path is lying there before you and you just have to put one foot in front of the other and keep on walking until the path comes to its inevitable conclusion.

It might be only a warm up, leading the way to another path that is clearly the one you know you are meant to walk, or it may be a detour taking you on a journey you are not at all prepared for and resisting with each step. Maybe you’re walking a route out of curiosity and a sense of adventure only – just because? Nope – the path doesn’t much care about the reasons; it just sits before you, expecting you to walk along.

Most of the time, the path is well-worn and safe, and you can keep your eyes on the horizon. You are safe – knowing that many have strolled this way before you, and made their way through with minimal effort. The kind of walk where you know the sights along the way, and all of a sudden you stop short and wonder how you got to a particular landmark so quickly? Walking along unconsciously, on autopilot; a great many of our days are walked in this way.

But there are times when you have to keep your head down as you walk – scanning the terrain under your feet to avoid major hazards that could cause you to stumble. On the lookout for the type of inconspicuous little hazards that, if you only gazed sleepily ahead to the end of your trail, would surely trip you up and knock you down. And on these walks, you might be called upon to find your way up, over or around a major roadblock, or to forge a new path altogether.

October is breast cancer awareness month. Many women are walking the breast cancer path – some to survive, and others to find a cure.

In November I will be walking the Breast Cancer 3-Day Walk in San Diego benefiting the Susan G. Komen for the Cure foundation. Many others will be walking with me – for 60 miles over three days, and many have already walked, in other 3-Day events in other cities this year. I am choosing to walk this path, and raise funds for breast cancer research, because there are way too many women who didn’t get to choose. Their bumpy and rocky path was laid out before them, and they are walking it with dignity, grace, strength and absolute fearlessness.

Yep, there are many paths. Some we choose and others are chosen for us.

V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N

2009-08-13T11:03:00.000-07:00

The Go-Go's had it right – time to get away. Go, go now! The word vacation comes from the Latin word “vacare” – to be void, free from, idle, unoccupied – empty. To vacate means to leave, as in “I’m outta here”. A vacancy is an opening; a space to be filled. Prior to August, there is a “no vacancy” sign flashing in my mind.

August is prime time to empty. Empty heads, hearts, souls, shoes, closets, shelves, boxes, homes, gardens, fields, cities and finally gas tanks. The air is hot and heavy and the days begin to fade earlier and earlier as each one passes. Then it happens, one night there is just a hint of coolness in the air, and that is the warning shot across the bow. If we don’t set aside the time to empty ourselves soon, we’ll be screwed by September. Full up at the beginning of the year. And yes, September is the true beginning of the year – not January.

January may be cause for celebrations and resolutions, but September doesn’t party. September is a get off your butt, get it in gear, let’s get down and dirty back to business kind of month. Mothers love September – at least the first couple of weeks. After that, September turns to us and says, “Okay girls – ready to rock?” and we have to be ready; ready to be stuffed full. Yes, by the end of September, mothers are full of it.

So, we need time to make room, lots and lots of room; the room to breathe deep, long, breathy breaths. The kind where you inhale, and then inhale a bit more to the point of slight disomfort, and then exhale with a long sigh of contentment, not exasperation. The exhale is the important part – you can’t breathe in if you don’t breathe out.

Which is why August is so important – it’s our exhale. August – the word itself means to inspire awe, or admiration. Exhale, sigh, and let the world take your breath away. It will return, I promise. August is underway and I’m vacating from the inside out. September is hot on my heels, and in a couple of weeks, the filling begins.

I will need the space.

Stocking the Pantry

2009-07-14T15:12:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you take a look at the same old stuff on the shelf in your cupboard and decide you are no longer interested in your tried and true staples. Nothing there gives rise to your soul, or sparks the gleam in your eye like it used to. Oh sure, they’ve been serviceable for quite a long time – like a daily bowl of grits, or gruel – depending on your perspective. They have a long shelf-life and have sustained you during the leaner times in your emotional and spiritual life. However, everything has an expiration date.

So you look at that shelf and think it might be wise to shop a couple of aisles over, or maybe even try another market altogether. It is time to stock your shelf with a few exotic pleasures, or bring back into service something you haven’t tasted for a very long time and think mmm…mmm, boy does that look good. You know it is time to get a little something special, just so you can dip into it for the first time or double-dip after an overly long absence.

Since you’re in the experimental mindset, you take a look at your fridge. As you are tossing out those unidentified leftovers, you search way back in the ole’ icebox – for what exactly you aren’t sure - but you remember, way back, that you had something stashed in there for a rainy day, or just any day when you needed, well, something else.

We women are amazing creatures. Home is where the heart is, and the rhythm of a household is tuned to the heartbeat of the woman standing at the hearth. Sometimes it beats loud and strong, other times it beats soft and long, sometimes it flutters and other times it stutters. We girls have a multitude of needs, and as we grow into women, we still have a multitude of needs, only now we know how to meet them. We understand the value of a little bit of something surprising stashed away on the shelf just for us. We know that no one else will ever reach all the way back in the fridge, so what we put there is safe, just waiting for us to take it off ice and serve it up to ourselves when the time is right.

As you enjoy your surprisingly full plate, you might decide that, while it’s nice to try new things, you like the comfort of the familiar best. Or you might discover that you have changed, and can no longer limit yourself to the everyday. The new, or in some cases, rediscovered, has brought much needed complexity and flavor to your life. You bask in rich new layers of sensation you simply can’t and won’t ignore. You can’t put it away now – you have tasted too much. You can’t let it rest on the same serviceable shelf with your old staples either – it deserves a bit more care – a special shelf maybe, perhaps under lock and key?

There is nothing quite like the evocative sensation of a little bit of variety and heat to unleash the fullness of life. You know what I’m sayin’ ladies?

I think you do.

Maybe - Permission or Possibility?

2009-06-07T18:12:00.000-07:00

Maybe is a tough word. It means different things depending on who asks and who answers. Kids always seem to take maybe as a positive sign – they thrive on the possibility of maybe turning into yes. After all, if the answer is definitely no, that’s what they would hear. So, maybe is a slip and a slide away from yes.

Things get more complicated as we age. When parents say maybe, it means “I’m still mulling it over because I really have no idea what to do”, while their children are off and running to the starting gate as if it’s a done deal. As adults, we have made many decisions, some good; some bad; some we’re still evaluating. We know that maybe gives us time to weigh our options and make the perfect decision.

Perfect. There’s a word that thrives on maybe-making. Maybe can turn into a life-long habit of not choosing anything, and waiting for permission to live our life. Once a direction is chosen, if it’s not perfect, we question our ability to choose wisely and fall back on a lifetime of maybes for protection. Eventually, someone will make a decision that we might have to live with. If it turns out to be a dud, well, it’s not our fault – we didn’t make it. We’re still in the middle of maybe-lake, floating on our raft, tentatively waiting for a strong wind, and avoiding both blame and any muddy shore.

When we get maybe as an answer, we aren’t asking the right question – even if we are asking ourselves. Maybe is a sign we need to refine and focus the inquiry, but we don’t. Instead, we sit back, get comfortable and wait for permission from the universe to get on with it – whatever “it” is. Even when it’s evident that “it” is the thing that will make our dreams come true, we sit, wait and ponder the possibilities, thereby denying ourselves permission, because what if “it” turns out not to be what we imagined? Does it mean the thing we’ve dreamed and schemed about is a mistake? We don’t like mistakes; they are messy, so we float and keep our feet safely on the raft – clean and dry – and useless.

If we don’t move, we can’t make a mistake now can we? We’ll just patiently wait for the universe to give us a sign; some tangible or intangible inkling that will permit us to take a step in the right direction.

Guess what? The universe doesn’t hand out permission slips. It’s more of a “you snooze, you lose” energy that sustains the spin in the cosmic circle. If you’re waiting too far away, you’ll be cast further from the rotation, sucked in by black holes – like attracts like.

It’s time to launch right into the vortex. Take advantage of the momentum created by the slightest action. Sometimes there is no right direction – as a circle rotates, right becomes left, and then right again. So think like a kid and jump headlong into life’s possibilities – hear “yes”. Or, if that feels too devil may care for your tastes – take my mother’s advice: “Shit, or get off of the pot”. Apologies to those with more refined sensibilities, but she has a point. It’s about movement people – it’s all about movement.

Open Faced

2009-04-30T18:23:00.000-07:00

My mother had a stroke this year, and it has been a rollercoaster ride for the whole family. One that has brought us closer together because, well, frankly we are seeing a whole hell of a lot more of each other than we did previously as we went about our busy lives. Somehow our lives were full to capacity and we only had time for occasional family gatherings. Now, we’ve made space – for mom – and for each other, and even though we are all still living our lives, there is an opening, where we slow down to sit, talk, care for, and laugh with mom and each other and it shows on our faces.

Recently, as the sheer weight of surviving this ordeal has lifted from my mother’s shoulders, and she has begun the earnest task of rehabilitation, the floodgates of emotion have opened up. The kindnesses of friends, relatives and the nursing home staff and residents cause my mom to cry. She cries as she looks around and notices the struggles of the other residents and their families. She cries when she makes progress, and she cries when any of us show up – which we are trying not to take personally. And, because in my family, one can not get away with crying for long, something must be done to cause laughter, or at the very least, swearing.

The other day was a good day. Mom was working hard in physical therapy and making great strides, literal strides with her walker, which in a surreal role-reversal, had me snapping photo after photo of her walking achievements.

So, things were good and it showed on our faces. As I headed for the door to leave, a man in front of me tried, unsuccessfully, to key in the door code several times. Normally, I’m not a patient woman, but I’ve learned a lot about patience in the last few months, and about being softer and more open, especially in this place. So, I helped him enter the code, smiled and said nothing. He must’ve recognized an opening when he saw it, not just of the door, but of another soul with more in common at that moment than we had differences. After all, if you are entering or leaving that door – you know something about each other. He turned around as we stepped outside and began to tell me about his son; his 21 year old son, who’s been in care facilities for a while due to a variety of physical, cognitive and emotional issues. Some of what he told me should’ve made me sad. As a parent, it was heart-breaking to think about my child in a similar circumstance.

However, the conversation was anything but sad. His eyes danced as he talked about his son. He was tremendously proud of the intensely unique and amazing person he was lucky enough to parent. He talked about his son’s intuitiveness, his openness to the world and those in it; his inability to say and do expected things, which has caused some embarrassment at times (singing “baby got back” while in line behind a bountiful woman at the grocery store); and yet how liberating it is to be with someone who has no regard for social conventions. I stood there for over fifteen minutes, realized I might be late to pick up my healthy, happy child, but I did not head toward my car. I stood; intimately close, to this man who needed to tell someone about his life – not just about his child, but his life as it has come to be. I’m sure those who passed us thought we were close friends, or family. It felt like we might be. While he talked, I sensed in one brief second that my face felt soft. I was not looking tired, agitated, hurried or otherwise occupied. I was open – open-faced. Interestingly enough, there was no need for me to tell my story, and he did not ask. I was quite content to hear him, to be whoever he needed me to be at that moment, to listen to him. Then, when he was done, we simply started to part, walked toward our cars and drove off. I don’t know if I will see him again, but I won’t forget his face, nor will I forget to keep my face open.

Squeeze Box

2009-03-25T00:44:00.000-07:00

On Saint Patrick’s Day, an accordion player roamed the halls of the nursing home where my mother is temporarily ensconced. As the accordion music swelled in the hallway, tears welled in my mom’s eyes and she began to cry. When I asked her why – she wasn’t sure, but she said she always loved the accordion. I had no idea. She was equally surprised. But, now, while she’s fighting one of the hardest battles of her life, she needed this sound – this feeling.

The evocative nature of the accordion squeezed emotions out of her she had packed away for years as she lived her busy life. Like the accordion, each chamber of our life gets filled, one after another. In order to get the air out of the original chamber, to hear that first note, the last one filled has to be emptied.

It’s akin to unpacking a set of Russian nesting dolls. Our lives become a series of boxes within boxes. We keep the whole set on a shelf, and don’t consider opening the biggest box, or breaking apart the largest doll. We may not ever have the need to get to the heart of the matter – the innermost box – the smallest doll. So, they sit, on high shelves, temporarily out of reach and gathering dust.

Occasionally we glance at them, clean them up, but still do not open them – even after decades. Yet, we are too afraid to toss them out because we know they contain things we still want, wish we hadn’t packed away and perhaps even ache for daily; but we can’t fit into our life at the moment. To make room for them, we’d have to box up something else. So the boxes stay on the shelf.

The truth is - we know if we start unpacking, working our way to the smallest box, it contains the one thing, or love, or dream that has the power to unravel us. It is the thing we’ve made as small as possible, so that it fits in the box within the boxes; precisely so it remains safely stashed.

Then, one day, we get squeezed – hard, and we suddenly know we never should’ve put those boxes so far out of reach. And we move toward the shelf, reach up, open up and begin the unraveling.

2009-02-27T23:52:00.000-08:00

Pick-Up Sticks

Sometimes you’re walking along and the lid comes off your container of pick-up sticks. You trip and helplessly watch as all your dreams fall out of the container and scatter in a mixed up heap in front of you. It is a game yes, but this time no one else is going to play along with you to pick them up – it’s all up to you because they are your sticks and you dropped them. The people who care about you will carefully step over them, but will still leave them for you to clean up. The folks who could give a rat’s ass about you and your dreams will saunter through your pile without a second thought – kicking a few to the curb as they go on their way.

You have to pick them up, and you want them all. How can you carefully retrieve them one by one without causing an avalanche? Decisions need to be made – do you lift the easiest ones first – guaranteeing some life points – you know – the “life would be satisfactory with these dreams achieved” sticks? Or do you take a bit more time and figure out a strategy to dive deep in the pile for the big ticket item – the 10 point stick and walk away from the rest of the pile?

Which sticks are okay to let fall off the pile without attempting to save them? A bottle of wine helps at this point, maybe two. Having a couple of good friends to help you analyze the mess in front of you isn’t a bad idea either. Will you be happier with a lot of little dreams, or do you really, really want the one big one at all costs? Do you pick slowly and surely, smaller dreams, moving them out of the way gently and patiently to uncover the big one. Maybe it’s easier that way – to let yourself get accustomed to the smaller goodies in life before you realize you deserve the big ones.

No matter what, something is going to slide. Sometimes the sticks in the pile you are facing are the dreams of your loved ones, which become your dreams too in a second-hand way. I don’t think we can live on second-hand dreams. You wouldn’t want that for your loved ones, so why is it good enough for you? Second-hand dreams are not interesting to anyone. You need to protect those sticks yes, but mostly you need to get them back to the pile of the person they belong to, so they can pick them up on their own.

The truth of the matter is that you are really wondering how in the hell you lost the damn lid in the first place! And why are you carrying the precarious package through the obstacle course of life that is littered with the stuff no one else picks up? Really, there are times you’d like to hurl the sticks out a window or at the nearest wall and just turn and walk away and not think about it at all. Occasionally you can think of other places you’d like to shove the sticks so they never see the light of day. To just live life in the middling place and numb the effects of the highs and lows of dreams achieved and lost. It seems like this would make life easy breezy and steady. And it would if the lost sticks didn’t have a way of turning up when you move the big furniture of your life around – they roll out from under the oddest places when you least expect it – like loose change, or moldy crumbs.

At times you may be forced to reevaluate your pile of sticks. Is it ever a good idea to throw some back in the pile? Or, do you just keep trying to collect more no matter what the point value? Maybe you don’t like the way the pile is sitting there mocking you, so it’s time to give the whole thing a little mix – swing your hips – dance on through to the other side and see if the view is different looking back at it over your shoulder.

Or, keep on dancing and don't look back. Maybe you'll find a barrel of monkeys next.

Irregularity

2006-08-15T22:20:00.000-07:00

Apparently I stutter-stepped out of the blocks on my blogging. One complete post does not a blogess make.

So, almost three weeks later, here is my second installment, aptly titled 'Irregularity'. No, not THAT kind of irregularity - thank God, because that is the last thing in my life I need to clog up and stop functioning. I've got enough minor irritants going on to keep me contemplating botox for the furrowed area between my eyes - including one bathroom that's been in non-use for five years awaiting a new lease on life - the proverbial 'butt-lift' if you will. The butt-end of any and all irregularity jokes in our household.

Anyway, I've been operating on only three burners for about a month now. Some would argue that I've never operated on all my burners, but really, I mean I only had three burners working on my stove. What made me really nervous is that my stove is three years younger than I am - was this an omen? Was I too going to lose 1/4 of my fire, passion and heat? Or, did that already happen and this was just a metaphor to pay attention to what has already begun? The dousing of the flame? Was the peak of my creativity and burning ambitiousness in life past me and I was now on the downward slope of life?

Oh the anguish and just pure-assed inconvenience of being one-burner short of a full cook-top. You have no idea! It led to a very real and slightly embarrassing personal insight; I have mostly large-bottomed pots. Which may also have something to do with why I also have a large bottom, but that's not the point. The point is that I had two small burners and only one large burner to work with, so there were some pretty intense culinary compromises to be made during this period of time. Luckily, for a few days, I didn't have to think about it at all as I cooked on a Coleman two-burner lovely while camping for vacation.

But, something odd happened the last day of the trip - one burner stopped working on that stove also. What is the universe trying to tell me? That I'm out of gas? That my knobs are worn out (again, metaphorically.......or not)? That my porcelain veneer needs to be resurfaced, shined and buffed?

I think I know what it really all means - get out of the kitchen. Order take-out, or go out on the town more - enjoy! Let others do for me; cook for me, clean for me, do dishes for me, right? Isn't that the most obvious message here?

That's what I was hoping, but alas, my husband (handymandy that he is) was able to re-wire the burner and get the whole stove-top operational again. Not before we got a pizza for tonight though - score one for the burned out babe.

The real bummer of this whole sordid scorching story is that now I have to face something I had hoped to avoid altogether. I now have to clean my oven...........damn it. I was hoping I could just, oh, I don't know, maybe, buy a new one? I can already smell the fumes of the cleaner I'll be using because I'm the 'self' in my oven's 'self-cleaning' feature.

However, there is a larger message and potential lesson to be learned here. I am not completely oblivious to the fact that I always seem to be functioning with one less of something than I have. Either I need less than I think, or I need to have my reserves in place in case of emergency. What to do, what to do?

Maybe a bit of both? Conserve and reserve.

I'm feeling a little more regular already.

Getting Started

2006-07-25T22:50:00.000-07:00

Well, tonight I am a blogger. For better or worse, I have now joined the blog universe. Of course, it is taking me way longer than necessary to work out the technical details, figure out the editing procedures, etc..., but at least I have begun.

So, here's a little celebration dance, and yeah, I do look just like this broad in the picture............really, I really, really do! Okay, I did a few years ago. Alright, maybe not EXACTLY like that, but I felt like that and still do - at times.

Well, maybe not right at this moment, but at some moments my hair does that, but it is more annoying than alluring and might be streaked with peanut butter, or mayonaise.

Also, I don't really look good in yellow, so I wouldn't be wearing the halter top per se, and hip huggers are not really my thing, but other than that I look and feel EXACTLY like her, you know?

Oh, and I really don't do belts either - because, well, just because - OKAY?

But other than that, I'm just like her. Although, now that I think about it I have never worn cuff bracelets. Maybe handcuffs qualify as sort of like those? But, I've never worn handcuffs either, so just forget I brought that up would you?

So, I guess the only thing I really have in common with this picture is..........well...........a belly button. You'll have to take my word for it because I won't be showing it off anytime soon.

That's it - I've begun.

I blog, therefore I am.

Later.