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blog archive (april-july 2010)
7/23/10: The Broken HallelujaIf you've ever been in a relationship that's gone sour, maybe you can relate.
I don't know how I made it to my middle adulthood without ever hearing this beautiful song by Leonard Cohen. Thank you to my friend and soon-to-be famous spiritual writer, Ross, for sharing it with me.
There's an even more amazing version of it here.
I wanted to share the profound lyrics as well, so I've included Jeff Buckley's version to the left.
If it touches you, as it does me, put it in your music library and let it wash over you often.
The God of Love isn't always fair or easy, but She always makes a strong impression.
One verse that didn't make it into this version (Cohen's original song had 25 verses) is this:
Even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of song
With nothing on my lips but HallelujaIn other words, it's worth the ride. Be grateful for the love. Be grateful for the pain that reminds you of that love. Halleluja.
7/21/10: Technology, SchmechnologyDo they call them "smart" phones so you don't feel stupid for buying them? I left my cell phone in a taxicab in San Diego last weekend. Luckily my hotel was within walking distance of a Verizon store, and I was up for a new phone anyway. The 20-something salesperson at Verizon was all about the new smart phones and showed me how easy they were to use, the cool features, tons of free aps, and I ended up with an Internet service package and a cell phone with an Android operating system.
It was not a match made in heaven.
Call me old-fashioned, but I think a phone should be a phone and a computer should be a computer. I'd been tempted by the smart phones, thinking, "Great, now I can leave my laptop at home when I travel and just carry my phone." Not so fast, Kimosabe. The two functions I most needed: getting on RMLS and checking my email, were slow, confusing and impossible to use. My MLS "mobile" site was a ghost of its robust full-fledged version. And my email was so tiny that to read the subject line I had to expand the screen until the command functions completely disappeared. I could either see my email or tell my phone what I wanted to do with it, but not both at the same time.
The next day I returned my droid for an updated version of my old phone. I guess you could say I traded in a smart phone for a dumb phone. But I wouldn't.
7/10/10: Showing Up in PicturesI am so lucky. I love my family, and especially my two boys, Max and Sam. But I am also incredibly blessed by wonderful friends, old and new. I finally got to meet my Funny-with-a-capital-F pen pal, Doug, and his incredibly sweet and gorgeous wife, Theresa and their 12-year-old son Micah (who loved our kitten!) when they stopped to see me on their honeymoon tour of the West Coast. We had a great visit, and I am so glad they came.
And last night I threw a spur-of-the-moment party, and friends from several areas of my life converged: Holly and her husband Barry from my Mastermind group, Larry from my new real estate office, and several of my go-to party gals (and guy: Eddie!), courtesy of my oldest friend (she would say: "she means longest-known"), Julianne.
I love entertaining because I get to see so many of the people who matter to me at one time, and they get to meet one another. The other part I enjoy is making things special for the people I care about. I placed bouquets of sunflowers throughout the house, and made my mom's famous potato salad, my sister's Trader Joe's teriyaki shrimp skewers, and my signature Mai tais (of course).
Summer is a busy time and not everyone could make it, yet the right people always seem to just show up. Larry, who just found out about the party that day, came in Aloha wear (he'd already had it on!) and stayed after to help me clean up. We shared coffee and brandy and chatted about everything under the sun until the sun nearly came out again the next day.
Larry also played photographer much of the evening. I love digital photos because a lot more photos get taken, and you can quickly enjoy the party all over again. Next time someone asks you to pose for a shot, do so with a smile on your face. Here's why:
I once helped my ex-boyfriend cater a college graduation party for his daughter. We schlepped food and drinks around, greeted and served guests, cleaned up, stayed overnight in a squalid (the police were called) motel, and the day after the party helped her move out of her college apartment. She had photos taken of herself and her family at the party, and in a park that day someone handed me a camera and asked me to take more photos while everyone posed with her in her graduation gown - my ex-boyfriend, his ex-wife, the brother, the grandmother, her mother's dog, and all the possible combinations thereof, and no one once asked me to be in a picture, not the entire weekend.
It's not that I like having my picture taken (who does?), but there's something about photos. Half of life is showing up. And photos help you remember who did.
Thanks for showing up, my friends ... sending you big love.
7/7/10: I'll Have What She's Having
Valinda, a friend of mine just celebrated her 10th wedding anniversary. On her Facebook page her profile starts out, "I'm a woman wildly in love with my husband Phillip." She's also posted a photo of the two of them at their wedding with the caption, "You promised if I married you, you'd make every day feel like a courtship. You never broke that promise."
When I read that, and when I look into their happy, still-smiling faces 10 years later, I feel like the woman on When Harry Met Sally who witnessed Sally's fake orgasm in the diner and and told the waiter, "I'll have what she's having."
To rub even more salt into my wounds, tonight I'm being visited by my funny pen pal from Calgary, Doug, and his new bride Theresa. They are on their honeymoon, and Doug's emails have become increasingly less funny and increasingly more syrupy. The dude's in Love (note the capital L). Flowers and Valentines and good-old fashioned nuptial bliss ooze from his communiques like vanilla cream from a chocolate eclair. It hurts my teeth to read them.
The good news is, for every marriage that has become a grind--something to endure rather than enjoy--there's one out there like Valinda's or Doug's. One that gives the rest of us hope.
Happy Anniversary, Valinda and Phillip, and many happy anniversaries to come, Doug and Theresa!
7/4/10: Freedom Day
The 4th of July is always stressful for my estranged dog, Nonny. I say "estranged" because she lives with my ex-husband. It's stressful because she hates the sound of fireworks exploding. A normally docile Yellow Lab, she has to be drugged and kept inside or she jumps fences and bolts.
Today in church we spoke of freedom. Freedom is ours for the taking if we only claim it, but claiming it means we have to stay and face the truth about a given situation -- not jump fences and bolt. And as our Reverend Billie said, "Truth does indeed set you free. But in the meantime, it can make you really, really angry."
I ended a relationship recently that had a lot of fireworks, of both varieties.
I had believed that relationship was for life. We had talked of marriage. But when I finally stood and faced the truth, I realized that I was committed to it; he was not (see below for one definition of commitment, ala Joseph Campbell). He tried to show me this in a thousand different ways, but instead of facing the truth, I jumped fences and bolted. Over and over again, always returning with my tail between my legs.
Now that I know the truth, I am finally free. It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt; it hurts like a son of a gun. But freedom nearly always comes with a price. And in the end, that price is worth it.
That's what all the Freedom Fighters say, anyway.
“Marriage is not a love affair. A love affair is a totally different thing. A marriage is a commitment to that which you are. That person is literally your other half. And you and the other are one. A love affair isn’t that. That is a relationship of pleasure, and when it gets to be unpleasurable, it’s off. But a marriage is a life commitment, and a life commitment means the prime concern of your life. If your marriage is not the prime concern, you are not married.” --Joseph Campbell
6/30/10: Party Animals
My oldest son Max turned 12 this month. He's wanted a kitten for a long time, and I've refused. We already have a dog, and I didn't want one more thing to take care of.
But when I saw his birthday list a few days before his big event, on it was a long string of video games, DVDs, and money. I figured it was time for him to assume responsibility for something besides himself.
The day before his birthday, I asked him what he'd rather have: enough money to add to his expected birthday windfall so he could purchase the top thing on his list: an XBox 360 (I've never allowed video games so this was a big deal) or a trip to the Humane Society where he could pick out a kitten. Max's reply: "Mom, I'd rather have a kitten than a million XBoxes!"
When I repeated that story to my sister, she said, "You raised him right."
Max fell in love with a little rascal he later named Zoey. We brought her home, and he played with her until it was time to go to his Dad's house for his "friend" birthday party/sleepover. His family party, a BBQ, would be the next day on his actual birthday.
Max stayed up into the wee hours with his friends, then came back to my house the afternoon of his birthday and played with Zoey some more. When it came time to get ready for the BBQ, I looked everywhere for him (see photo to right).
Party Animal.
6/17/10: Family Ties
My brother Lance is in town from the Philippines, a short visit broken up by a few days' trip to Indiana for a work project. His timing here coincided with a family wedding I'd agreed to be the photographer for down in Roseburg on Wednesday. Yes: Wednesday. Yes: me, the "official" photographer. The bride and groom are on a tight budget and they asked if I'd take the pictures. I didn't know how to say no, but I did know how to say, "Are you sure? Me?" a whole bunch of times. Yes, they were sure. Yes, they wanted me. I recruited Lance to be backup photographer and together we took nearly 600 photos. At least a couple dozen of them turned out pretty good. (Thank you, bro.)
Being around family always tugs at my heart. When we arrived, Bonnie, grandmother to the bride and the family Rock of Gibraltar, not to mention wedding cake artist, was putting the finishing touches on the reception hall. After she left, her sister Bobbie (both of them are my mom's cousins), came with the food for the buffet dinner reception that would follow the ceremony.
The wedding was gorgeous, as weddings are, and touching. I saw cousins I don't get to see nearly enough, and I cried. The bride's mother, Carol, and I are cousins. That's us below.
And Bobbie's daughters, Keri and Kelly (first photo above) are as well. I remember when the bunch of us would put on skits and charge the grownups a dime each for the privilege of watching us sing "Mr. Postman" or act out some implausible plot from a play we'd made up. When I hugged my cousins goodbye, something broke inside of me. It wasn't the wedding. It was the poignancy of time marching on. Of love. Of rites of passage. It was family, and it was knowing that we can always count on each other.
Yes, it was inconvenient to take a whole day off work, drive to Roseburg and drive back the same day (I had a 7 o'clock meeting this morning).
I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
6/14/10: Whacking Weeds
I took on a new role recently: managing broker for a small real estate firm. It was a great decision, but it's put a crimp in my time, and a lot of things that usually get done aren't. I took a look at my overgrown backyard this weekend and decided my reel mower wasn't up to the task. A friend I had coffee with suggested a combine. Instead I bought a weed whacker.
I soon learned that "some assembly required" meant I couldn't put the *X!@D$F thing together. I struggled with the instructions for a half hour then finally threw in the towel, deciding to wait until my oldest son got home from his dad's for the weekend. He was a whiz at assembling Bionicles, and I figured those skills were probably transferrable.
When he arrived, after the usual greetings, I set him to work on the weed whacker. In a few minutes I checked on his progress. "Here, hold this steady," he instructed, busy putting two halves of a guard around the track of the whacker.
"Don't you want to look at the instructions?" I asked him.
"Nah, I can see how it goes together."
"But you always read the instructions when you do your Bionicles."
"Mom," he said, exasperated, and finally fitting the last piece in place. "I'm not into Bionicles anymore. Besides, this is way easier than a Bionicle."
It occurred to me that men are notorious for not reading instructions, and he would be 12 in two weeks, and ... he was growing like a weed.
6/4/10: Self-Publishing ... Yahoo!
Today a friend sent me a link to an article on Yahoo! titled "Self Publishing Turning Book World on Its Ear."
The gist of it is that authors, even big name authors, are finding out that with the new print-on-demand options, self-publishing can be significantly more lucrative (and involve a lot less groveling) than going with a traditional publisher. Once the domain of vanity presses, self-publishing is now in its hey day, thanks print on demand, and distribution channels like Amazon.com, Ingram, Baker & Taylor, and others.
I should know. I self-published my first book, Mom and Dad, Can I Have the Keys to the Universe? this month. Illustrated by none other than Sam Buchanan!
The book is a law of attraction book for parents of teens and preteens, and will be distributed through Amazon, bookstores and gift shops. All I can say is ... Yahoo!
6/1/10: A Universal Thank You Card
Today a dear friend took me to breakfast and gave me lovely gifts and a card, and I received more than a dozen text messages from friends, including two truly sweet guys I've dated only a couple of times, one guy who I met at a club ages ago but have not yet dated, not to mention several Facebook "wall" postings, phone calls, and a lot of those old-fashioned things called "emails," and "birthday cards," all wishing me a Happy Birthday. They remembered!
I had dinner with my two favorite guys, my sons Max & Sam, at The Old Spaghetti Factory, and dinner was $10 off, courtesy of the Birthday Club at KINK-FM, which I belong to. And birthday wishes weren't even confined to this one day: the day before my birthday my sister took me to breakfast and gave me some beautiful pink roses, a lovely card and other gifts.
And the piece de resistance that I just KNEW would come on my birthday? I received the first 50 copies of my new book, Mom and Dad Can I Have the Keys to the Universe?, which I'll discuss more later!
All in all, it was a stellar couple of days.
Thank you, Universe! :)
5/31/10: Hearing Voices
Everyone is the voice of God.
Why not be polite and listen?
-- Sufi poet HafizI've been hearing voices lately. They've come from dear friends who've known me since Farrah hairstyles were the rage, and new friends I've recently made. They come from the reverends at my church and the books that have found their way into my hands. They are mirrors to me, reflections of who I am, how I think, and what I say. The truth, not the rationalized, homogenized, for-public-consumption versions.
Here's what they've been saying: slow down. you are enough. don't judge others for the same faults you possess. go with the flow. don't force it. be pono. allow grace to happen. be at peace. you can't fix it. in fact, nothing is broken.
I'm starting to hear. I'm starting to listen.
Ho'oponopono is the Hawaiian practice of making things right. It starts with I love you. Then: I am so sorry. Then: please forgive me. Then: thank you.
And it ends with ... well, it never ends.
5/27/10: Score One for the Universe: Less is More
I have been learning this lesson over and over again: less is more. I have been trying to do so much and think I have to do it RIGHT NOW and I have been placing impossible demands on myself, and not being able to meet them, and making myself crazy in the process.
Then someone reminded me who was doing this: Me.
But look at the Universe: the stars would just be one big bright migraine-creating glare if there wasn't space between them.
So I took a chill break. I decided to focus on one thing at a time. And the Universe smiled on me and opened doors for me. And now I'm in a better place in every area of my life.
I'd write more, but I think I'd rather write less.
5/25/10: Rain Drops on Roses and Favorite Friends
The world is a rose; smell it and pass it to your friends.
- Persian ProverbI made a wonderful friend recently. His name is Dale M. Peterson and he's a gifted photographer. Here's a photo of a rose covered in rain drops that he sent me today (click to enlarge: it's amazing!) And here's a Kiss of Peace Iris that was just beginning to bloom in his garden the day he sent it.
Dale has given me more than beautiful flowers, though. In the short time I've known him he's given me a beautiful friendship.
He reminds me to breathe. To listen. To take care of myself. To appreciate the beauty all around me. And yes, to stop and smell the roses.
I'm not sure what I did to deserve such a friend. But I hope I keep doing it.
5/20/10: Cracking the Code on Real Food
Saturated fat is bad for you. Egg yolks are bad for you. Real butter is bad for you, eat margarine. All of these so-called truths about food are in fact lies. Whole eggs (organic) are actually better for you than egg whites. And surprise: our hearts love saturated fat, and our bodies need saturated fat. Probably not as much as the typical American diet, but we do need it. What we don't need is artificial coloring, artificial flavoring, high-fructose corn syrup, aspartame, MSG, preservatives, ingestible antibiotics and hormones. What we don't need is artificial food.
Several books have come out recently bringing some sanity into the food hysteria of recent years. They include:
In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto
Real Food: What to Eat and Why
Read them! I've eliminated high-fructose corn syrup in my household. I'm so militant about it that before my sons ask for a treat at the store they flip the box over to see if it contains the dreaded ingredient. And speaking of boxes, we avoid most of them! If it doesn't grow or rot, it probably doesn't belong in your house. If your cereal turns your milk a funny color, or if the first or second ingredient in anything is sugar (except sugar itself), don't eat it.
Since the advent of convenient low-fat, diet and sugar-free products in our grocery stores, America's obesity levels have risen dramatically. We're eating non-foods. Non-foods don't satisfy us. Our bodies can't register them so we eat more of them. And we still feel hungry. We're starving our bodies for nutrition while packing on the pounds from our overeating of non-nutritious foods.
I'm getting real with my family's food. We use real butter. I make my own granola. We buy organic chicken and beef even if costs twice as much. I consider it an investment in our health.
As Schwarzennegger said in Terminator, "Come with me if you want to live."
5/10/10: Mothers and Sons and Snakes, Oh My!
For Mother's Day yesterday I had only one request of Max, 11, and Sam, 10: a hike. They reluctantly agreed. I think they'd imagined (and would have much preferred) a leisurely brunch at one of our favorite eateries. But we can do that anytime. This they'll remember.
I packed us a lunch and plenty of water, borrowed a leash for our dog from the neighbor (our leash had gone missing) and we drove to Eagle Creek, parked at the far parking lot and hiked up to the trail head. It was a brilliant Oregon day, and the hike was just what I needed to blow off the too-much-time-at-my-computer cobwebs. Several parts of the trail skirt a narrow cliff where tiny waterfalls gave us occasional misty showers. Max is afraid of heights and expressed concern a few times, but otherwise we had an enjoyable hike.
We checked out Punch Bowl Falls overlook but decided to keep going and finally stopped for lunch at a rock landslide before the boys cried mutiny.
On the way back after dipping their toes in the creek (too cold for a wade, they decided), we hiked up the road and then along a short trail toward our parking lot. On the trail I got a strong sense of something not right, something telling me that I needed to stay alert. Max was leading with the dog, and I caught up to him just as we rounded a corner where a tree jutted out into the path, surrounded by a bank covered with greenery. There on the bank, just a foot from Max, was a huge snake. I'd teased him earlier about seeing a spider when we were lunching, but this time when I grabbed him and pulled him away, saying, "Snake!" he knew I wasn't kidding. "I could tell because you kind of hurt me," he said later.
I don't know how I knew that snake was there. Motherly instincts, I ssssssuppose. It was nearly three feet long, and stayed very still. We watched it for several minutes to make sure it was real (I wondered at first whether someone had left a fake snake there to surprise hikers; it was so big and close), then Max and I saw it twitch its head at our dog. Sam missed that and didn't want to leave until he saw it move "so I can be sure it's not a robot," he explained.
We threw twigs near it, but it didn't flinch. Then I moved the dog toward the snake and it moved its head again. Sadie is a miniature Schoodle, so maybe the snake thought I was bringing it a ssssschnack. Sam saw it move that time so we were finally able to leave for the car.
Probably if a man had been along he would have picked the thing up (most likely it was a garter snake) and shown it to the boys up close. But I think we had as much adventure as we needed. One advantage to being a mom is that my sons don't feel like they have to out-macho me at any given moment. And for that I am truly grateful.
And
here's the snake.
(Or as much of it as I could get in one shot!)
5/9/10: Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
She filled antique bottles my dad found with colored water and put them on the window sill where they would catch the light. She competed in barrel racing and was named Rodeo Queen in a rural area where nearly everyone rode horses. She pulled green chain for the lumber mill to make spending money. She made Raggedy Ann dolls to sell, sewing messages on the doll's chest: "You're Special." "I Love You." "Friends are Forever." She made scores of dolls and sold very few, choosing instead to give them away. She sold Avon cosmetics but always gave away her discount, so she never made any money at it. She never liked her eyebrows, calling them "sad."
She raised five children and was grandmother to 16. And she died far too young, never realizing her dream of moving back to Oregon, opening her own flower shop, living near her daughters. The picture on the right is from her wedding day, wearing a corsage made from orchids from the nursery my grandmother worked at in Eugene.
She was my Mom. From her I learned to treat strangers with kindness, to give visitors the good cups, and to make everyone feel welcome in your home.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I miss you.
5/5/10: On Cinqo de Mayo, I Climb Chichen Itza
Today was Day 3 of a 4-week, 5 days a week, boot camp. It was "Road Day Wednesday." Road Day Wednesday means we meet at Mt. Tabor Park, run some hills, then run some flat, then run some hills, then run some trails. And just when we think we're done, we run some steps. These are Chichen Itza worthy steps, gang, with many landing spots along the way where we -- surprise -- do 5 pushups each. I was huffing and puffing, glad to make it to the top, and moments later looked back to see our straggler. Every group has a straggler. It could easily be me, but this time it's not. I feel for her. I'm grateful for her. She makes me look like I'm in some kind of shape, which I'm not. And I'm proud of her. Stephanie, a new gal who is in less shape than me photo-wise but definitely not endurance-wise, ran down to meet her, then did the push ups with her and ran the last flight of stairs with her. That's spirit.
Think we're done? No. So then we ran down a trail to a wide open area of the road, and waited again for Dan, our fearless perky leader who frequently circles back to run with the stragglers, after making it all the way to the top of the line. One gal said, "Do we leave now or wait for Dan?" We all thought we should wait so he could lead us through our stretching. Then Dan came. He looked up a steep trail above us and said, "Alright, let's go!" And took off. There was nothing for us to do but follow him, run the hill. Crawl is more like it. It was there that we stopped and stretched.
Dan has a way of bringing you to the pre-vomit stage. But ... I feel better than I have in years. Afterward I felt like I could do it all again, but I'm glad I don't have to. At least not until next Road Day Wednesday. Tomorrow, abs. Oooh, Baby.
5/3/10: The Zen of Fitness
Today was Day 1 of a 4-week, 5 days a week, boot camp.
There were 30 or so women in a room that looks like a dance hall: wood floors, great open feeling, nice natural light. After some specifics on form, and a light warm-up we were led through squats, rapid running, jump rope, weights, plank (that one is a killer), push-ups, the table and more running, more weights, more jumprope and more squats. Plus a lot of deep ab work throughout.
A full workout in 60 minutes. I can feel my body responding already. My birthday is a few days after the end of boot camp. I'm anticipating the new me I'll bring into my new year. And I have a feeling that this will be just the beginning.
The really cool part is that when I'm working out hard, everything else disappears. It's just my muscles, just my sweat, just my effort, and just my results. For an hour, I can forget what I want to forget. And over time, I think I'll be able to translate that ability to my meditation and my life.
Daniel Iverson, our perky drill sergeant, told us that by the end of 4 weeks, what we did today will be the warm-up.
Bring it on, Dan.
5/2/10: Being Still
Yesterday I took part in an 8-hour meditation at my church. We were taught how to engage in mindfulness, also called insight meditation.The idea is to pay attention to everything going on in your field of awareness in the present moment. Not what happened yesterday or what may happen tomorrow, but right here, right now.
I found it nearly impossible to do. I spend so much time in my head and very little time in my body. I looked back on a few recent blog posts: forward momentum, rat race, and realize that my life is rushing by and I'm missing a lot of it.
It's May 2. I completely missed May 1. When did that happen? I was there, of course, but I didn't realize the month was changing. No big deal, right? Just one day in my life, right? But our lives are made up of days, and our days are made up of moments. And I don't want to miss any of them.
You don’t need to leave your room.
Remain sitting at your table and listen.
Don’t even listen, simply wait.
Don’t even wait.
Be quite still and solitary.
The world will freely offer itself to you.
To be unmasked, it has no choice.
It will roll in ecstasy at your feet.
~ Franz Kafka
This is a poem someone gave me years ago when I was making myself crazy with too much going on. I realize now I've had too much going on for a long while. It's what I do. What I did. Time for a change.
4/29/10: Forward Momentum
Lately it feels like I'm running a relay race against myself. I have so many irons on the fire that I can't keep track of them all. It's all good, but it can be exhausting.
Next week I'm taking steps to rev up my energy level and slim down my waistline by joining a four-week boot camp with Daniel Iversen, who trains Olympic athletes and couch potatoes. I'm neither, but it will be a stretch for me in many senses of the word.
The great part about being in a relay is there's no time to look back. I keep feeling a pull from behind, a past life that wants to draw me back in. It's seductive and persistent. But I know if I give in to it, I will stumble. I will drop the baton. And there is a goal line waiting for me that is part of my new life. One that's worth stretching for. So I keep up the forward momentum, and I don't look back.
4/26/10: Hazardous Performers
This was an amazing week. My darling sister, Kathlene, turned 50 and we celebrated at Kell's Irish Pub and later Huber's (Portland's oldest restaurant, known for its Spanish coffee and roast turkey). At Huber's we ran into John Schneider, the dishy blonde guy from The Dukes of Hazard TV show (he's aged well, ladies, but he's married), and ended up closing the bar down with him. Here's a shot of the crew, minus my sis who was probably taking the picture.
Then ... last night was da bomb! Once a year I take my boys to some special evening. We've done The Nutcracker, the Broadway production of the Lion King, and last night it was Cirque Du Soleil. I've heard of it, but NOTHING compares to the real thing. I found myself screaming in fright a couple of times until Sam put his hands over my eyes. This over the tres dangereux Wheel of Death acrobatic show where I actually feared for the lives of the performers. Picture two giant hamster wheels on a rotating axis, and each of THEM are rotating, and they're 20 feet in the air. One guy is inside of one wheel running around, the other guys is on the OUTSIDE of the other wheel running around, jumping rope, etc. If they don't keep up with the speed of the wheel, if they misstep at all ... no net, no wires, just guts galore. If you have a death wish, they're hiring.
During the show Sam turned his head away too, but for a different reason. When the hoop artist came out and did her thing it was crazy good, 5 hoops at a time, glowing, spinning, jumping, looping, and Sam is staring at the floor. "What's wrong?" I asked him. Keeping his eyes down, he whispered in my ear, "There's a naked lady on the stage!"
He felt a lot better after I explained body stockings to him.
4/19/10: Balloons
I attended a Celebration of Life ceremony last weekend, for my cousin's husband, Jeff, only 48 years old. He lost his battle with ALS this month. Active in fishing and hunting all his life, the disease was particularly difficult for him, but he never lost his positive outlook, and in fact "hunted" with the help of buddies even when his disease made him almost completely immobile. More than 200 people attended, and nearly a dozen spoke about his larger than life personality, his beautiful spirit and his good heart. The ceremony was held on the banks of the Umpqua River, and the weather was perfect. Near the end, we released a fishing pole into the skies, attached to dozens of blue balloons with messages for Jeff. I'll never see a blue balloon again without thinking of that moment.
A friend just got back from a Jack Canfield (Chicken Soup for the Soul creator) seminar in Seattle and said he mentioned balloons too. He was talking about how opposites often attract, and likened it to a balloon and its string. "You need both. Two strings would be pretty boring, and two balloons would just fly away."
We tend to go through life looking for someone just like us. What a missed opportunity. I've learned more from the people who are not like me. It doesn't mean they're easy to be around all the time, nor would I necessarily choose them for life partners, but in terms of personal growth, learning and just plain excitement, differences can be a breath of fresh air.
4/17/10: And Speaking of Real Estate ...
A friend of mine sent me this Hawaiian real estate ad (right). He asked me how much vodka I thought the Realtor swigged before he wrote the copy. See if you can spot the boo boo in the first line of the Property Description.
What got me at first (because initially there was another ad covering up part of that first line) is how any Realtor could call 1284 square feet "huge" and still be able to sleep at night.
In case you'd like to see the place in all its lushes glory :) here it is:
"... my gosh, the size of the place!!"
4/16/10: Racing Rats
I wear six hats, but the most important of these is Mom. Today when I dropped my sons off at school something happened that made me realize how important that hat is. I dropped #1 son off first (being a big sixth grader, his class starts 10 minutes before his brother's, who is in fourth grade). Then I drove #2 son around the side of the building where he usually plays at the playground before his bell rings. I told him to go on ahead, that I'd bring his lunch and his backpack in a moment. I needed to check a text message from a client.
This client has been running me ragged for several weeks, often with unreasonable requests. He is trying to close on a real estate transaction (one of my other hats is as a Realtor) and is on a tight deadline. We've made offers on a half-dozen properties, I've jumped through some incredible hoops, and finally we were getting close. He texts me so often that I have gone over my 250/month alottment for the first time ever and it now costs me money every time I receive a text. He always wants an immediate response, and for the most part I've dropped everything to oblige him. This morning his text directed me to check my email because he needed an addendum drafted and circulated immediately. I had already received and responded to an email from him he sent to me at 6:28 this morning. So I drove home, checked the email, responded to it, telling him the addendum wasn't a good idea, and was on my way to another appointment when I got a call from my sons' school. It was my #2 son on the phone. "I just wanted to say goodbye, Mom." I realized then that I had driven off with his backpack and lunch in my car, and without saying goodbye.
When my client called me in response to my email, I was on my way back to the school. He proceeded to tell me why I was wrong about the addendum and why he needed it drafted immediately. It was in that moment that I put my Mom hat back on.
The terrible thing about being in a rat race is that you are the rat. I was a rat to my son because I was trying to get the cheese my client was holding out to me. Just run a little faster, Yvonne.
It was lesson in slowing down: in realizing which hat is most important. I am grateful for that lesson.
4/13/10: Frog Lessons
How do you cook a frog? One degree at a time. You see, the poor thing doesn't realize the water is getting uncomfortably warm until it's too late. Then: bye-bye froggie. It's a non-PC but appropriate analogy for a lot of things: jobs gone bad, relationships headed south. By the time you realize you should have taken a left at Albuquerque, you're at the equator, and your goose is cooked, mixed metaphorically speaking.
Why don't we notice the temperature rising and get out while it's still comfortably warm? According to Those Wiser Than I, it's because we need the extreme discomfort to move us, otherwise we would put up with less than we deserve, suffer uncomfortable but livable dissatisfaction, and live a life not actually meant for us. The lesson is in the extreme discomfort. The worse it gets, the better it is for us. And just like birds who eat poisonous berries (we might just as well get the whole animal kingdom involved in the metaphor now), we get smart and learn to avoid them next time.
We have something else to learn from nature: frogs, birds and geese don't waste time kicking themselves over and over again for not seeing the light sooner. They don't feel like a dunderhead for missing the early cues. They just shake themselves off and move on.
Ribbit, ribbit.
4/8/10: The View from the Hall
I'm just off of a long-term relationship. Again. A wise woman I know said recently, "When one door closes, another one opens. But it's hell in the hallway."
I've been in the hallway a lot these past four years as the door to that relationship repeatedly opened and closed. Actually, it was me slamming it shut a good deal of the time, but it never seemed to stay shut. (I must see about that latch.) A lot of the times, that hallway was hell. But now, it's just a hallway.
A friend I Starbucked with today asked me if I was dating again. I looked at him and grimaced. "I feel like I've eaten a huge meal, then thrown it up, and I don't want to eat again for a very long time." He laughed. He's been there through many of my trips to the hallway, and like a lot of my friends, is wondering whether this one will stick -- whether, in spite of my protestations to the contrary, I'll beat my head against that door one more time begging to be let back in. (As God is my witness: no friggin' way. I mean, the swelling on my forehead is finally starting to go down.)
Another friend says she thinks the reason I kept re-entering was to prove to myself that I wasn't insane for going through the door in the first place. She may have a point. It was never very comfortable in there. Chilly. Sparsely furnished. Sharp edges everywhere.
I think my friends like the new, saner me. I know I do. And just to show that God has a sense of humor, I've been asked out several times recently. In spite of my "full up to there" feeling, I have a coffee date this weekend.
But I'm not leaving the hallway any time soon. I like it here. It's comfortable and warm. I may buy an easy chair and a reading lamp and settle in for a good, long while.
