Understanding

Sometimes we question things that happen in our lives. We all do it. Some of them are about really big things, when the order of life throws you a fast unexpected curve ball and you have to do some deep emotional or spiritual seeking to regain lost peace over a sudden change.


Other times the things we question are just small things. Things that are only important to you and no one else. Maybe it's the timing, or the getting or not getting of something. Sometimes it happened today instead of tomorrow and ruined your day.

Yesterday I had one of those days. It was my wedding Anniversary and we had a fabulous dinner out and we were radiant with the sharing and reminiscing of our love and memories. Back at home, by 9 p.m. my husband was calling 911 because of a severe quick onset of a Lupus flare that caused me to loose consciousness. A lovely evening that ended with an ambulance ride to the hospital, my husband fearful that he was loosing me, being kept up for over 24 hours with tests and waiting and then being sent home pumped up with the safest limit of morphine only to still be in bone breaking pain. This is all much harder on my husband and children than it is me. I am used to the pain, they will never get used to 'seeing' the pain.

I ask not to be pitied, because I have made peace with my big questions. But you can feel temporary frustration along with me, because my small questions often still get asked and go unanswered. In bed for the next couple of days, I will take the time to make peace with the small as well as the big. I thank you for the love ahead of time, my friends and angels :)

Time with Mom & an Anniversary

Can you see the resemblance? Mom and I had some great quality time these past two days. We talked, shopped and ate...then played beauty parlor. We share a very close relationship and I cherish my time with her. Mom is a rock and a wise, tender hearted soul. She is all woman, strong of character, full of good morals and loved by all three of us girls. I am truly blessed to be called her daughter.

Then this evening, I celebrated our Wedding Anniversary with my husband. He surprised me with a certificate of Love and Happiness that he had made for me instead of a card, which included a list of all the things he loves about me. The list was really long and very thought out. I adore this man and after all these years together, we are very much in love. We still make each other laugh and begin and end every day with a kiss and express, "I love you." I can't even begin to tell you how much I am treated like a princess and tenderly cared for on bad Lupus days. He is my dream, my night in shining armor, the one and only love of my life, my heart, my friend, my forever. Happy Anniversary my love.......I am yours into eternity.

Flying the Coop

*This is being written as a tribute to the relationship that Mother's have with their Daughter's and more specifically, when these young ladies leave for college. (as is the case for Teresa and Kayla)

My daughter, who left me 4 & 1/2 years ago, finished college, moved to a big city and is one of the more treasured people in my life. If someone were to ask me...,"What was the one thing you found had changed the most in her?"...I would have to reply, her modesty. My sweet girl left; a body covering, discretionary using, reserved little child and returned without an ounce of her modesty in tact. And that is all that needs to be said about that. So my subject matter is mainly going to fall on the discussion of 'body parts' and how we refer to them...

When my Mother was growing up in the 5o's, they had no private body parts. I know this because my Grandmother (Meme`re) never spoke of them. If they needed to be addressed, 'pointing with the act of a raised eyebrow' was the communicative choice. Now, my mother was sure that her girls were not going to be raised in this ancient fashion. So, we grew up with Tee Tee's , La La's and Ding Dong's. There was no miscommunication in our house hold. When I became a mother, I felt so liberated using the word breasts, but I must confess that Tee Tee and Po Po did get passed down to my children, along with some other cute, childlike phrases.

When my daughter returned from college, she brought with her a couple of well earned degree's and a new vocabulary to teach her mother. "Mom...this is a V a g i n a and that is called a P e n i s." I covered my ears with my hands and shuttered. Who told her this?! "And M o m, when I have children of my own, they will learn these words too!" So, it's true, and not just something that happens in a movie. My granddaughter will one day point down and say, "this is my bagina" and I am going to have to smile and whisper, "yes, honey, that is your Tee Tee."

(I was tagged this week to do a meme on books...as soon as blogger will let me...I will meme away :)

Lesson at the Drive Thru

I made an observation today while sitting in the drive thru of my most obsessive bad habit. It was that 'transit hour' on Sunday morning when most churches have released their congregations. Ahead of me was a Station Wagon full of well dressed family members. The vehicle caught my attention, as it was not an SUV, or some other popular mini van and that particular wood paneled car is rare these days, so the people inside were subjected to my scrutiny. I expected to see Ma & Pa, baseball caps and pig tails, but what I did see was the entire family, each with their own cel phone, each having their own conversations.

What's wrong with this picture?

Was I wrong to assume they had maybe just left from church? Were they possibly on their way to a feast shared at another family members home? Was sitting in a car with each other, for any length of time, more than any of them could bare? What has happenend to the sacred family time spent together on Sunday's? I was perplexed and reached into my purse to call my husband to tell him of the tragedy that I was looking at.......gotcha!

My hand froze on the cold metal of my cel and my eyes cast down onto the lap of my judgment. I smiled to myself thinking that this would make good fodder for a post...and don't we all go about our days sifting through our mundane rituals, seeking out prophetic tidbits, to enlighten the bloggie realm with?Call me crazy, but I know that only you, who are reading this, can appreciate that thought.

When I was young, car travel, was family conversation time, as well as the dinner table and commercials breaks during TV shows. Talking to ones friends was limited to a phone that was permanently attached to the wall in our kitchen, or during play hours and school times. Cel phones give us 'instant' gratification to pass on what we think is important information. Now, we can all talk to our peers at the same time and on the same dime, so to speak. There need never be another awkward moment of silence that forces people, even families, to find the right subject matter. This saddens me and I hope it is not true of the average family dynamic.

We have 'No Phone' rules while driving with others in our cars. We gab relentlessly at the dinner table and mute commercial times to discuss various topics of interest. I don't have a perfect family, but finding time to converse, is never a problem and we usually feel there is just not enough time.

*Sigh* my day usually ends with me still talking, well after the lights have been turned off, and we have retreated to our prospective sides of the bed and the covers have been properly arranged under our chins. But, as much as I may dominate the conversation, my husband usually has the last word. "Good NIGHT honey!" *another sigh* "goodnight."

"Senses"

I can see you everywhere
I can't escape you
and I'm not sure I really want to anyway.

I can feel you in my sleep
I can't stop dreaming
and sometimes I don't ever want to wake up.

I can hear you in the wind
I can't ignore the sounds
and I know you're blowing right into my soul.

I can taste you on my lips
I can't remove the salt
and I want to devour what it is you know.

I can smell you on my skin
I can't remember your face
and I need someone to give you life again.

Words with Eyes

It was a
black and white
day...

and I was skipping around, making visits from one blog to another and my eyes glanced over to a profile quote and 'it' happened. The words glared at me with a sneer and sarcasm slapped me in the face with blinding force. "Think of life as a terminal illness, because if you do, you will live it with joy and passion as it ought to be lived." ~ Anna Quindlen

Let me first say that I am not judging the person who chose this quote, so please find no offence in my analysis of these words. I honor the author and the point she is clearly stating; appreciate your life, don't take it for granted, live with passion. All wise words that we should allow our lives to emulate. What I am proposing, is how I was effected, at the moment of reading them.

The loveliness of the words disintegrated and the harsh reality did a number on my soul. Words like; terminal illness, incurable decease and unpredictable outcome, have this jolting affect that grab my attention as I gaze at any literature containing them. I am reading through a glass darkly and on this particular day was in a foul mood. I temporarily felt distaste towards the person who authored those words and mocked their meaning, that I felt were misunderstood. But, the beauty is in the first word of the quote, "Think."

Not to actually live with, but to think of, because to live with a terminal illness, joy and passion are privileges that one has to earn, work hard for and foster unnaturally. I cried angry tears at Ms. Quindlen's well meant words. They were not kind to me, did not offer me comfort and I couldn't nod my head with understanding wisdom. Instead they made me feel like a misunderstood child that received a harsh punishment for a crime that I did not commit. Yes, I often feel like a child, helpless and with an opinion that is to be seen and not heard. I cried and I turned away from the screen to hide my tears from the words. I animated them and let their squinting eyes penetrate the side of my face that still stung from their slap.

When the episode finished, it was I who turned back to them, forcing the authors intentional meaning to transform the disgruntled figure back into the wisdom of good advice. I wiped my tears and turned off my computer. I needed a moment to recover from the hard blow, needing some color to wash over my black and white day.

"Communication"

The best kind of communicating is not done with our mouths at all. There is power in the written word, yes, but having someone really hear what you are trying to say is the most powerful communication form of all. And this we do with our ears and the heart that lies within. We have busy lives, live in a noisy world and the chaos that surrounds us all is deafening. So, the art of hearing is getting harder and harder every day, but when we do it, it says so much.

Listening says:

I am putting you above all else, right at this moment.

I am concentrating on you alone and opening up my heart to your life.

I am purposely taking you in, to understand your feeling.

I am loving just you alone, right now.

We all need to be heard. And that is one of the reasons we are all here...in this blog realm, right? And we are growing and learning and changing because we hear what each one of us has to say.

~the communication we are practicing with our ears~

The Mind Reading Dog

This little cutie is named Ellie. She is my 4 pound Chi and one of the loves of my life. This has been a 'sick' week for me. Lupus has kicked my butt and I've been down for days. My family are dog lovers and I've had more dogs than I can count. Some stayed with us for just a short time and others spent their life span with us. Ellie is mine and mysteriously knows when I'm not feeling well. She gently moves around my body and gives me kisses when I experience waves of overwhelming pain. I don't moan out loud or do anything at all, she just knows. And I smile at her to let her know that Mommy is okay and in the process of being concerned that my pain is somehow affecting her, I alter my outlook about what is going on and get over each hurdle.

I am convinced that Ellie can read my mind. My husband thinks I'm a little coo coo, but I have proof. All I have to do is 'think' about giving Ellie a bath and she disappears. I have to go throughout the house, bending down on my knees, looking under beds and into every possible small space she may fit into. Just like she did on this day. All I have to do is 'think' about going on an errand and Ellie is running around in circles and whining her, "please take me too ^..^" cry.

I have seen specials on TV about cancer sniffing dogs, or epileptic seizure sensing dogs and I believe that this is a 'gift' that some dogs are given. After all, we are all animals and some humans have gifts that others don't, right? So why not a pain sensing gift given to a 4 pound puppy. Ellie picked me out of a litter of Chi's that I was contemplating. Actually, I had my eye on a different puppy and Ellie was considered the 'ugly' runt of the bunch. She walked over to me and sat at my side, while all the others were busy getting into trouble. She looked up at me with her big brown eyes that said, "Hi, lets go home now." When I chose her, the breeder laughed and was shocked. They even gave me a discount, feeling sorry that I had picked the homely one.

Ellie is my saving grace. I spend long hours without human contact and I could easily get lonely, but she is my constant companion. She understands what I'm going through and I wish she could read this post and know just how very much I love and appreciate her. But it's good enough that you know and can see this little angel that is a gift, my courageous warrior, clothed in a little 4 pound Chi's body.

I love you, Ellie ^..^

"The Road"

Considering the road life has chosen for me
I would have chosen another
and might have missed
this lesson
of suffering

Considering the suffering I have been through
I would have chosen ease
and might have missed
this experience
of patience

Considering the patience I have acquired
I would have chosen health
and might have missed
this emotion
of empathy

Considering the empathy I now experience
I would have chosen comfort
and might have missed
the greatest lessons
of life

Considering the road life has chosen for me
I choose this road too
and have not missed
the ease of health and comfort
that seem to pass over
the understanding of empathy

"The End of Any Day"

Lights are turned down low

two bodies, shadows glow

one kiss so soft and slow

and we drift far away.

Your skin is fresh and clean

I breathe, eyes close and dream

alive, a touch extreme

to tell us this is real.

We give in, start the dance

hands slow and minds entranced

eyes open for a glance

to see our love.

Bodies quiver and descend

tender moment as we blend

arms embracing, then we end

small words silenced with a kiss.

"Hiding"

When Life isn't going the way one expected it should, hiding is a natural response for most people. Turning inward, isolating and protecting the raw emotions that might receive too much exposure. At one time or another, none of us hid and we were innocently open, needing to be nurtured and soothed, but instead we were scolded, or humiliated, violated and abused. These became our teachers for how we would deal with life for the rest of our existence.

Think about that?

We have been to school with teachers named ~ HUMILIATION ~ VIOLATE ~ ABUSE

What could we possibly learn from them? But, learn we did and in the process of their teachings we acquired the art of concealing, because this is a good skill, keeps you safe and worry free from further inflictions. Is that true? Believe it or not, that's what we actually think is truth.

Here's the dichotomy:

Many of us grow up to be parents and when our children hide something important, something they learned from Humiliation, Violate, or Abuse, we feel outraged. We don't take it lightly, we burst into action and concentrate all of our efforts to nuture, protect and vindicate them. We implement justice on their behalf and gird ourselves with armor as their guardians.

So what happens to us, the adults, when those teachers re-enter our lives and decide we need a lesson or two?

We become experts at handling this when it comes to our children, but why do we insulate ourselves when we are the students? When were we informed that hiding is the best form of action for pain, disappointment and abuse?

For me, I somehow made a point to put myself at the end of the line when shit happens. I also decided at sometime in my life, that my lessons would be a burden to others, if shared.

My point is...hiding is not healthy. It may feel like the right thing to do, but it's not. When we become the students, we also need guardians, warriors and nuturing. We don't ever outgrow the need to have others involved in our learning. We need each other and this entire process has a name and unfortunately, hiding has given it a bad reputation. Concealing important events has diminished it's effect and original impact, the word is

Trust...and that's what children and adults alike, also learned from life's teachers, how not to trust others. Therefore, including people now becomes an effort and an act of bravery on our part. And that is a choice we have to make with no guarantees attached. It is a hard choice, but a healthy one.

Choose to trust. Think about the teachers names and become a rebel against their philosophies...

Choose trust

"To Click or Not to Click"

Today I sat in a waiting room at the Doctor's for 1 hour and 45 minutes. I needed some important blood work done, so I couldn't turn and run when I saw the highlighted warning sign at the check in desk, "At least a 2 hour wait today from this point." Eeeeek! I had no idea it was going to take this long, so I was not prepared. Meaning...I didn't bring a book, magazine or writing paper of any kind. I refuse to touch the available magazines that offices provide. I am convinced they are germ hotels and infested with articles covered in bacteria. Yuck! However, I did have my camera in my purse (?) Could I walk around and click & flash without being conspicuous? At that very moment, the TV was broadcasting current news regarding the war on terror...would I freak people out? Would they think I was a camera clicking terrorist? Boredom rapidly wore out my concerns and I took out my camera. The "Wrrrrrrr" sound was magnified as I turned it on and heads turned to identify the odd interruption. I covered it with my hands and blushed as eyebrows wrinkled at me. I waited a moment starting to chicken out, when....2 seats away this little boy began hacking up his lungs. That's it, bacteria beware, I'm outta here! I popped up from my seat and looked around for inspiring idea's...laboratory hours? (sad) ...sign in here? (boring) ...information desk? (come on...) ...exit sign? (better...'click/flash') ...old woman with a cane? (perfect...'click/flash') ~ "Young lady, did you just take my picture?" (ooops, oh my god!) "Ummmm, yes...is that okay?" (idiot...of course it's not okay! Terrorist!) "I can delete it?" *very weak smile* She just shook her head and limped away. Whew! I turned around and this man talking on his cel shockingly gaped at me...I deleted. Oh man...I was destined to marinate in germs. I put the scary, huge, noisy, glowing camera away and sat down, annoyed and feeling like I had no rights in this free country under red alert. Blood drawn, I realized that a stranger with a camera in a public place is a street you cannot travel through. That road is closed, a dead end, dangerous territory and your better off smearing bacteria all over your face and sitting smack down in the very middle of the diseased section of the waiting room. Outside, the fresh air was exhilarating. In the parking lot, I took out my camera and snapped a picture of a fire hydrant, who was glad for the attention. I stuck out my tongue...to no one imparticular... (oh god, there's the old woman!) raised my eyes and marched over to my car. Driving out of the parking lot, my car turned in the direction of this sign, "NOT A THROUGH STREET." (No kidding) I pulled over, leaned out of my car window and 'clicked.' Out loud I said, "AND I'M NOT A TERRORIST!"

Poetry Thursday

"The Routine"

~Pain~

suffocating

despite the air that surrounds

wanting to breathe

just afraid to move

filling the lungs

expanding the rubber band

that holds everything in place.

~Imaginations~

forcing my mind

to travel to destinations

that medicate and ease

eyes closed, the pictures become clear.

~Ocean~

water waving, soothing sounds

the clouds move in

bringing the storm

that breaks the calm

and I am marooned.

~Flowers~

soft breezes, bending colors

laying and looking

upward to the sky

the ground beneath me rumbles

opens up

and I am swallowed whole.

~Trying~

to see beyond the pain

receive the calm

breathe the scent

release

and fail

patience and try again.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

"The Chef of Salon de la Salon"

His hands moved so fast, they were one big blur before my eyes. He was like an Asian chef, the flashing of shiny metal, chopping sounds and pieces of his art project flying left and right. He talked to himself, words of approval and the look of a perfectionist crossed his facial features. I held my breath and blinked away the tiny hairs that flew into my face. I sat very still, afraid that one wrong move might mean the loss of an ear or eyebrow. He shouted at the onlookers to appreciate his expertise and demanded their praise. He was a professional, performing to a rhythm no one else could match. In a flash, he was finished, mere minutes passing like sand slipping from my clenched hand. "Hwa-la!" he said, while spinning me around in the chair, my eyes trying to focus on the face in the mirror. I slowly raised my trembling hand to touch the feather like remains that were still attached to my head. My mind needed a moment to adjust and I felt momentarily light headed...literally. He sung to me, "Well girlfriend, don't you just adore it, or what?!"................

I did......I adored it, he was right! Piles of hair covered the floor around me and I began to run my hands through this new do. Other women around me said, "Damn girl, you are brave!" and I felt courageous. I walked in with long tresses and within moments I sat there looking like a newly hatched baby chick....and I loved it. He gave me quick instructions as I stared at myself in that mirror....I made my next 6 week appointment...still staring...paid the bill...looking at my reflection....got into my car and pulled down the visor so I could look at myself some more...smiling. I drove home, periodically looking at myself in the rear view mirror to make sure it was still me. It was.

So, here's to all of you....a grateful "Thank You" for the added support and kind words that helped me get through this slightly painful, but totally worth it, experience.

(I feel sassy, somewhat sexy and definitely liberated... :)

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

"Learning to Love Darlene"

I too have been participating in Liz's self acceptance meditation challenge. I have been mirror gazing, using different techniques and following her sensitive emails, or listening to the recorded instructions. I have read responses from many of you that are also participating and am enjoying and relating to your growth and hurdles. I have set a mirror next to my computer to act as a reminder and commitment to this exercise. Since coming up to the 2 week mark, I've decided that I'm really tired of looking at my face for long periods of time. I felt set free by Liz's comment that time was not an issue...a couple of minutes would do. On some days, the gazing was difficult because of my illness, the reflection reminiscent of someone deathly pale and weak. On other days, my mind wandered and wanted to daydream and do anything other than look at my face. I did learn a few new physical things...I have some new freckles, (or could they be age spots?) some of my moles have gotten larger, (is that a hair I see?) and my wrinkles are deeper. (and have wrinkles inside the wrinkles)

But, the goal is not to be critical about this face, it's not to point out the fact that I am aging and it's certainly not a time to mourn my loss of youth, but it is time I am setting aside to fall in love with and accept this face that is mine. I noticed distinct changes in my appearance, changes that are the evidence of the triumphs and trials I have endured. I think I actually saw some sorrow above my brow, happiness in some of the creases and maybe a little wisdom in my eyes. It was then that I made a major decision. I needed a change, an external change to match the freedom I was beginning to feel. It was time to cut off my long hair.

My sisters and I have carried on a trait we inherited from our Mother. We have always taken very good care of our hair and our styles match our personalities. To this day, my Mother wears her hair in a very young and flattering style, it fits with how she feels inside and we girls followed suit. We have each worn our hair sassy short, semi medium, or very long, but I am the only one to have been brave enough to wear the "pixie" cut. I can't take too much credit for this bravery because it first resulted from the fact that when your loosing your hair in large quantities from an illness, it is emotionally easier to just hack it off, and so I did. Well, I'm in that place again, needing to free myself from the distress of watching clumps of my hair clog the drain every time I wash it. The reflection in the mirror told me this and I made peace with it.

I noticed that each time I mirror meditated, I pulled back my hair to fill the space with just my face. And my eyes told me that I don't need this long stringy reminder to absorb so much of my energy. I realized that I have been really stressed out about it and my face said, "We don't need it, do you?"....No, I don't. So, today I have an appointment to cut off this burden and go back to the pixie hair cut that makes me feel so free. No more clumps, clogged drains, or reminders that massive hair loss means something is not right. I still loose the hair, it's just so short that it replaces itself without me even noticing it. So, I'm excited to do this....and a little nervous. The last time was at least 10 years ago. I promise to take a picture and share the result with all of you. And the next time I spend my moment in the mirror....what will I see?

Sunday, August 13, 2006

"Tea with Strangers" Part 2

I had another visit with the wonderful Mrs. M, my seamstress. Actually, I have had several visits, as we have become fast friends. She greeted me at the door with a huge smile and a warm hug, well meant happiness in her voice as she welcomed me into her humble home. To my surprise, there was a young man sitting at our tea table, already set with the ritual I have come accustomed to. Mrs. M instructed me to sit down, as she was finishing up a telephone transaction. Mr. C stared at me as I made myself comfortable and began filling my tiny plate with the tea cakes and dried fruits and nuts. I politely introduced myself and he displayed a certain amount of confusion and interest as he told me his name and why he was there. (Just dropping off a new suit needing alterations for a job interview in two weeks.) Mrs. M hung up the phone and noted that we had made the necessary introductions. A steaming cup of tea was already placed in front of the big newcomer wearing a base ball cap and Mrs. M poured me a cup. The aromatic mist drifted up to my face, florals and spices combined. I readied my tea and began nibbling on this feast that had a different feel because of the new stranger. The doorbell rang and Mrs. M excused herself. Mr. C glanced over at me with that scared doe look and I internally chuckled as he tried to lift that tiny tea cup with his big, manlike hand. He took a little sip, for posterity sake, and cleared his throat. We then had a conversation that went like this...

"Is this your first time Mr. C?"
"Uh, yea."
"Mrs. M is a remarkable woman."
"Uh, yea."
"You don't just drop off your clothes here, you get a feast, a history lesson and the privilege of getting to know her as a friend. Expect this again, for future reference..."
"Uh, yea, I mean, I was...just on my way home...and she made me sit down...and then you came in...and here we are." *chuckle chuckle*
"Do you like tea Mr. C?"
"Not really, this is my first time."
"Having tea?...or having a Tea Party at noon?"
"Uh, both...I'm a coke man myself."
"Just take a few sips now and then, and the food?...nibble here and there, it's quite relaxing actually."
"Oh, sure...yes...uh, I will"
Mrs. M returned and she explained that the lovely person at her door was dropping off an order and they could not join us just now.

This is when my brain transacted a flood of thoughts. (She does this with everyone, not just me. I feel disappointed and not so special. She even invites the men to break with her? How strange. The environment is different with him here, I'm not sure I like this.) I ended with the last remnance of the word 'selfish' leering into the recesses of my musings. I sat quietly as I watched Mrs. M ask our new visitor questions, that he always answered with "uh" to start off with. I watched her smile at him and laugh, I noticed that she looked him square in the eyes and nodded at his answers and then....I saw the magic that is hers alone, begin to weave around this small space, where she entertains each stranger that enters her home. Mr. C became more comfortable, dropped his "uh's" and I joined into the conversation. We sat there for one hour exchanging life stories and laughing at fates mishaps. Mr. C drank his entire 3 ounce cup of tea and grabbed handfuls of the fruits and nuts, popping them into his mouth with his fist. The awkwardness lifted and we were all enjoying this moment in time that may never happen again. We were three very different people, each with their own life experiences. We shared them and discovered the similarities that overlapped here and there. It was Mr. C's birthday and he had a date with his wife for dinner, although I don't think he would show up very hungry, the feasting bowl was now empty. Mr. C departed, with a warm hug from Mrs. M, and said a heartfelt goodbye to me. We each knew that this may never happen again, the three of us, sitting at this table and sharing. Mrs. M returned and sat down with a sigh. She looked at me and said, "You expected us be just you and me...no?"

I looked shocked and felt my face flush with heat. "No, I mean, yes...was it that obvious?...I'm embarrassed."
"I see your eyes change, but it was nice, no?....He is nice boy...love his wife and children....his birthday....how nice."

Yes, it was nice...actually, it was wonderful and warm and more than I pleasantly expected. Mr. C arrived as a stranger and left as a friend, Mrs. M's intention all along. Her house is a house of friendship. It doesn't matter if you are a woman or a man, dark skinned or light, Mrs. M wants you to leave her house changed, different, and humble. No room for selfishness here...not here.

We chatted a little while longer and then I stood up, stretching my muscles from sitting so long. Mrs. M walked me to the door and paused. She took my face in her small hands and kissed my forehead. "For good luck" she said....and then she looked me deeply in the eye and said, "You are my special friend, no?" "Yes, Mrs. M, I am your special friend and you will always be mine."

Friday, August 11, 2006

"Maybe You can tell Me?"

Today is one of those days. I understand that this probably needs more of an explanation, but I don't think I can find the right words to describe how I'm feeling. Days like this have a 'code' name. This was derived for the sake of my husband. I'm having a 'weepy' day. I don't feel depressed, but I do a lot of crying, crying, crying, with no apparent reason behind it. I swear, I rack my brain each time the tears surface to define them and I come up with nothing. So, I go on my errands and cry in my car, order my Starbucks and wipe tears while I give the window server my money, I stand in line in whatever store I'm in and try to hide my eyes from onlookers as I'm holding my breath to will the tears back in, it never works. I'm supposed to go to an Administrative dinner party tonight with my husband...big wigs attending...GREAT! I'm really looking forward to THAT act! Instead of arm candy, I'll be more of a snot machine. I can see it now...."Hello Mr. So and So...this is my.....Weeping Wife."

So, I leave you with this.....if my tears are for any of you out there because I've somehow 'tapped' into your need to cry and you just absolutely can't...I'm gladly doing it for you....just tell me why I'm crying......please?

Thursday, August 10, 2006

"How Long?"

At 5 p.m. I had a seizure, the ache settles into my bones.

I am determined to fight it's numbing effect on my brain.

I don't really care about my body, it's my mind that I treasure most.

That unique quality that sets us apart from one another.

The hours pass and I grow weary, but keep my hands busy,

over-riding the heavy fog that tries to settle around me.

11 p. m. and I go to bed with "Good night" and "I love you."

Inside dreading the crawling movement of time that surrounds me.

Only I am awake and the rest of the world slumbers, breathing

deeply with the slow rise and fall of the chest.

I moan out loud, not realizing that my pain has surfaced

wanting to make itself known.

I wake the dead, gulping both water and pill.

Rolling away, I silently shed tears of self pity,

loathing my inability to endure the cup I am given.

Sleep never comes and my eyes watch the dim light

that slowly seeps through the cracks of the window.

I rise to begin yet another day,

unrested

and even more weary

than the day before.

How long?

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

"The Bounty of the Sea"

As I walk with soggy sand beneath my feet, the ocean gives up her bounty.
Moving slowly, I bend and pick, bend and pick, deciding which gem is worth some value to grace my collection. But, in my attempt to increase the appreciation of my surroundings, I find myself passing over the perfectly hones shells, and instead are drawn to the rocks and broken leftovers of the seas rage. Colors, textures and aging time guide my selection and I am fascinated by my own concentration. I look to the sea and ask myself "why's" and "how's" of the forsaken beauty that exists in each jewel that scatters the coastal shoreline. Imperfections, holes and cracks hold my attention and create more unanswered questions. I can't decide which ones should stay and which ones can accompany me home. I end up filling my basket with the discarded treasures that the ocean spit out before me. And I leave peacefully, returning with the bounty that I will call....remarkable.

Days later, I decided to display my treasures in a long cylinder vase, arranging the rocks just so. I filled it with water and all the colors came to life, reminiscent of a magic trick. This treasure now graces my Ocean themed bathroom and will showcase all the rocks, but the real lesson was finding beauty, not just in what appears to be the obvious perfection, but gladly appreciating the least of these.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

self portrait challenge

This 'made up' eye is not really looking at much. She is staring past the hoards of people that pass on her left and right. Too many people try to get eye contact, but fail in their attempt. Staring at the floor helps the rhythm to move forward and get to the destinations.


The Naked eye gazes in the mirror and critically assesses the face it belongs to. At the same time there is a fear of getting old and an anticipation of what the future holds. She feels safe in her own surroundings, looking at what belongs to her and knowing that their is no one here to try to force eye contact.

Monday, August 07, 2006

"Celebrate"

My daughter Angela came home for the weekend. It was her 22nd birthday and I spent the entire weekend spoiling her with love and shopping.

The best part for me was watching her open the Card/Book that I made for her of pictures throughout her childhood of just her and I stuck together like glue. I wrote something special next to each picture and she Boo Hoo cried while reading it. My favorite part was not the crying, but the fact that our relationship was shown through pictures and written in words that really meant a lot to her.

Here is the last page of the book. This picture was taken for her Senior year Mother Daughter Tea at Kappa Alpha Theta House. This annual event gave us many priceless memories to treasure.

I am recovering from our lovefest weekend. I need a day to rest rest rest :) My brain has absolutely no inspiration for the moment. Tomorrow will bring renewed brain cells and hopefully some creativity. Hope you all had a terrific weekend. I'll enjoy reading your posts and laying around on the couch today.

Smooches and hugs = SMUGS :)

Friday, August 04, 2006

"Word Verification Challenge"

I have decided that this ...."thing" is not my friend. I don't feel good today, so I am going to take this opportunity to complain about the "Word Verification" section of our Bloggie Kingdom. Although, I do appreciate it's importance for us all, I find that the fonts are crazy...down right alien sometimes and they make me really anxious. When my eyes travel from letter to box to keys...I get lost in the transition and usually have to 're-do' the process. Now, there have been many times when I know I have done it right, no doubts on this one...and WV kicks me out and makes me do another round of barely recognizable letters. So, for the record....I dislike WV, he is not my friend, but I will tolerate his antics out of his importance to bloggie order.

Now, let me show you someone who is my friend.....this is Ellie, my mini chihuahua.

She stays by my side, follows me around the house and is my faithful companion on days like today when I am couch bound with flaring lupus symptoms. I love her so much. I have never loved a dog like this ever. She reads my mind and is so intune with my needs. She even avoids walking on my legs when I'm in pain. She just gently curls up next to my tummy and lovingly adores my sickly self. I don't know what I'd do without her. To those who know me in person, I have an Ellie voice that I use when I'm talking to her or translating what she is thinking.....

"Hi, I'm Eddie and my mommy gives me treats and kisses and throws my babies and I go for walks to the mail box and I love to give uncontrollable kisses, I love my sissy."

Sissy is my 22 year old daughter that is coming home today. Ellie will bark with excitement when she arrives. Have a wonderful weekend all and sorry, Ellie is not for sale.

Hugs and kisses to you all.....now I leave you to go and gaze upon my sickly self into the mirror, this will be fun today ;(

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Poetry Thursday

"Lady of the Night"

I look into the sky, at your great big staring eye

It's just a sliver

The wind is blowing hard, and my skin begins to crawl

I feel a shiver

The night is yours to play, while I sleep the time away

I often wonder

Who it is you are, will you always be so far

When I do slumber

Do you sneak into my mind, finding places to unwind

As I am dreaming

Do you conjure up my thoughts, unearth ground that likes to rot

Nightmares streaming

Are you mean or are you nice, visit once or visit twice

Should I love you or despise, think you dumb or think you wise

Look your way and be afraid, for the trouble that you've made

in my life

Are you lovely to behold, beauty young or wretched old

Do you care about me here, when my heart is full of fear

Reaching down with your long finger, stirring muck, leftovers linger

"sorry dear"

I will pay you for your time, if you kindly do not mind

Leave my heart, my mind and home, I just want to be alone

Take your finger and your sliver, take your darkness and your shiver

Go to hell, you dreamer killer

I refuse to live in fright

Of the lady of the night

By ~ Me

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

"Looking Beyond the Film"

~I have accepted Liz's meditation call to our bloggie world. Looking into the mirror and really gazing at yourself. Saying positive things...thinking positive thoughts and concentrating on the uniqueness of myself. Many of you took up this challenge and I am hoping to hear how this is churning around in all of your beings. For me (?) I am having a rough time...

~I have always been critical and hard on myself, both internally and externally. Part of this comes from my natural birth order (the famous neurotic 1st born syndrome) and the other part follows under the category of emotional damage, extreme rejection at tender ages, throughout my life. Things so personal, that I can count on one hand the number of people that have the knowledge of all of my truths.

~First, I started with that 'regular view' side of the mirror, without my glasses. "Hey, not too bad for 45." Then I made the horrible mistake of turning the 'REALITY' disc around to that microscope side that ILLUMINATES and (please God) exaggerates your facial attributes. Yikes! My husband uses this side for something that involves his nostrils and I habitually turn it over before my reflection even goes within 2 feet of it. I do this without even a thought, it is a habit of mine, that now has a definition........THE YUCK REACTION!!!

~Every wrinkle, every scar, mole, hair, age spot, pore, vein, even buggers....do I need to go on....is magnified to the millionth degree! I do not suggest you start with this side of the mirror. Turn away real fast and for heaven's sake, use the regular side. Whew, much better!

~I want to delve deep into my soul to get every possible morsel out of this exercise, honest, I do. And Liz... I have made this commitment and expect you to hold me accountable. I promise to regularly check in with all of you. :) I love my mind~I love my heart~I even love my curvaceousness.....but, do I have to l-o-v-e my warts? *deep breath* I hear you saying YES! right over my shoulder.

~My Mother once told me, "If you ever want to know what you'll look like when you get old, just bend over and look into a mirror." OMG! Have you actually done this Mom?....Nightmarish, something I don't recommend and have never damaged my daughter with THAT tidbit of advice. :)

~So, for all of my bloggie buddies who have also gazed into the wrong side of the mirror today, turn it over and don't put on your glasses....see, you look damn good after all!

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

"In 1960"

These two beautiful people are my Mom and Dad.

My sister and I, during our conversations, have brought up the fact that we think we have very yummy parents. 'Yummy' is a word we use fondly to describe the fact that we think they are the best parents in the entire universe. So many times we have both randomly sighed and asked, "Don't you just love daddy and mom?" On this we agree, they are loving, kind and have poured themselves into our family unit and we have no doubt that we are loved. This is such a good feeling and I am proud to say that I belong to them.

They had a teenage romance before daddy left to serve as a Marine and married when he was through serving in 1960. They have many stories that we girls love to hear over and over, as they are the tales of two lives that represent our coming into existence. They both say that it was "love at first sight" and 46 years later, they are still together, holding their family in the palm of their hands.

*******

~Mom used to sit outside on her front porch hoping that daddy would drive by in his cool car.

~Daddy gave mom driving lessons when she was 17. She crashed the car and seriously injured her knee, a problem that she still lives with today.

~Mom thought that daddy was a dreamboat and used to play with the dark curl that fell from the front of his hair do.

~They wrote each other while daddy was in the service. That slowly died down and when he came home, he looked mom up right away and asked her to marry him. She was shocked that he still held a torch for her all that time.

~Daddy always knew he was going to marry the French girl. He made up songs about her name and still sings them today.

~Mom says that daddy was a nice dresser and always smelled good.

~On their wedding day, pictures were taken on the lawn and bugs went up mom's dress and got caught in the netting.

~Their wedding was filmed and we have watched it a number of times.

*******

While none of these stories may seem worthy of any movie or book, they are the stories of two people that I love very much. They are stories that I will never forget, they are foundational to who I am, they are my life while I was still a dream in my parents future. They own these stories and now, I do too. They smile fondly while telling them, I smile fondly, knowing every detail, but nevertheless, love hearing them over and over.

These are stories that I have told my children and one day, will tell my grandchildren.

And then they can own them too.

About Me

Name: Darlene

Location: Northern California, United States

gypsy hearted daughter wife mother student teacher jewelry designer dog loving tree hugging farmer that laughs and lives with Lupus.

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