Enlightened Yoga

Increasingly during the next 6 weeks
it will seem like the sun hardly sets.
Which means it's no longer dark out when I get up.
Nor is it dark when I go to bed.
I try not to hang on,
like a spoiled child begging it's parent
to stay longer on a play date,
to this time of year.
It's awfully tempting though.

This week I've changed my morning routine.
Lovely cardiologist told me I must
find a way to exercise daily no matter what.
So I'm doing yoga at 5 am.
I'm determined to do this even though
I'd much rather be sleeping.
I'm not stubborn for nothing.

Exercise is one thing the doctor said
was my part in helping
the enlarged heart situation.
That, losing more weight,
and lowering my sodium intake.
Which is low already.
It's unbelievable how much salt is in everything.
Although I'll take a bland diet
if it means living longer.
Wouldn't you?

Tears Are A Form Of Prayer

I wanted to weep again and again at Mass today.
Unexpected tears feel like both a gift and an inconvenience.
So rarely do they appear when I am alone.
Today they would have morphed into a snotty nose
and gulping sobs kind of weeping
so I quelled them and settled for tears welling up.
I wonder how God sees it when I stifle the Spirit so.

I was almost the whole kit and kaboodle at church today.
Sacristan, lector, altar server, usher and gift bearer.
That's what happens when there are only a handful present
and only one other person is brave enough to get out of the pew!
I don't think it takes bravery
but to some it does.

I have had intense issues with our current priest.
He's driven me around the bend on more than one occasion.
Then came a Sunday, a few months ago,
when I was ranting
all by my lonesome,
on the way home from church.
Listing every single one of his faults out loud.
He'd pulled a doozy that day
and I felt like we were in a cat and mouse game.
And he was the *&$^%$@ victor.
He didn't know we were in a game.
But I tell you, I was convinced of it.

And as the words of contempt spewed out of my mouth
bouncing off the windows of my empty car,
I saw myself in every single one of his faults.

I haven't been the same since.

I could no longer look with
something akin to hatred at him.
Instead, there welled up compassion
and I cut him some slack for being human.
And well, once there is even a sliver of compassion
one can never go back to venom
without a tremendous amount of effort.

Venom is a waste of energy.

I can just see myself holding up my hand
and asking to be excused from life momentarily
because I've used up all my spoons
hating another human being.

I've never been an altar server before.
As I assisted the priest today
I felt the tears welling up for the umpteenth time.
I don't know if I'll ever like the man
But he's no longer my enemy.

Today was one of those days
when I was overwhelmed
by the mercy of God.
What else can one do then
but say thank you?

Distance

It's a beautiful sunshiny day.
Warm enough to feel like summer.
Makes the snow of last weekend a distant memory.
I spent the day between two meetings.
Life is full.

1001

My days are all mixed up.
Yesterday felt like Monday.
What a short week it's been then.

The pugs are better than an alarm clock.
They promptly show up at my door at 7:30 AM
to snort and try to see under my door.
Just picturing that makes me smile.
There's just no way their effort wouldn't end up
with them looking straight down at the floor instead.
So now I wonder if they do that on work days
when I leave the house before 7,
in hopes that there is still someone in the bedroom.
No wonder they often have dust bunnies on their big eyeballs.

I'm having a hard time living in this day only.
May is a full month.
I find myself thinking that
there won't be any let up until the month is over.
Then I yank myself back into today
by putting my feet flat on the floor
and taking a deep breath.

I did empty my suitcase and put it away yesterday.
That is history in the making.
Then I had a three hour nap.

Today is full of little tasks
and then an evening meeting
and an all day meeting tomorrow.
Then back to work on Monday.
And I could go on and on about what follows that
but instead I'm putting my feet on the floor,
taking a deep breath and doing the next right thing.
Lord have mercy.

I can't help but think this morning of this being my 1001st post.
How there is that book called 1001 Arabian Nights.
How she managed to keep telling the story for that long.
How it was still interesting right up to the end.
How her life depended on continuing to tell the story.
There's a message in there somewhere.

Wretched Unpacker

There were two little pugs laying outside my bedroom door this morning, noses pressed to the space between door and floor waiting impatiently for me to get up. When I opened the door they ran up and down the hall like they were parading a victory flag before a crowd. They make me smile.

Dearest one and youngest son have gone off to work.
I'm alone for a chunk of time.
The longest in over a week.
I am grateful for the silence.

There are plenty of little tasks to get done today.
I am a wretched unpacker.
My suitcase could sit there for a month without me taking care of it.
I'd empty what I needed and leave the odds and ends to gather dust.
That's my pattern.
It's why I still can't find a pair of earrings I took on my trip east 6 months ago.
So today my goal is to empty the whole suitcase and put it away properly.
Life is made up of little accomplishments.
Having an empty suitcase one day post trip is more like a miracle for me.
It may very well be a first.
Change can happen at any stage in life.
Thank God.

I'm grateful for the little things today:

Wrapping my hands around a mug of tea.
Breathing in crisp spring air.
Two little pugs who dance with joy
when they see me.
I am grateful for much this morning.
Nothing huge and yet everything huge.
Life itself.

This post marks number 1000 in my little old bloglife.

Wholeheartedly

This morning I watched an elderly couple skate circles around each other at the ice rink in what used to be the world's largest mall. She, with gray hair and aging body, made the graceful spins and twirls seem effortless. Her actions had the ease of a teenager and I wondered if she felt like a young girl again.

He, well, what a sight. Dressed in blue jeans, a button up blue shirt and a ball cap, he made these little jumps and twirls, spreading his arms with such flair as he landed them, that I couldn't help but stand there and grin. He, too, had a big grin on his face as he skated.
He looked full of joy.
It did my heart good.

My heart.
It needed some good.
My appointment with the cardiologist didn't go as expected.
I was so sure she would lecture me about my weight (which she did), be happy about my cholesterol readings (which she didn't even address) and then send me on my way with a "see you in two years time" wave of the hand.

Nope.

She sat and told me that the upper chambers of my heart are enlarged. That she needs to run a battery of tests to see what is going on. Most likely it's a hole somewhere or the shunting that was deduced several years ago, but whose source was never found, that is wreaking havoc with my heart.

I sat there and just wanted to cry.
I regretted being alone,
in a city 8 hours from home,
as she told me that news.
I felt so vulnerable.

I thought about my increasing fatigue that I'd been blaming on my new job.
About the near daily bouts of my heartrate speeding up.
About how I almost never wake up feeling rested.
I thought to myself that I was glad she didn't tell me I have cancer.
Somehow I feel more in control less vulnerable with heart issues.

I know there are things I can do to help my heart.
She laid those out clearly.
And there are things that are completely out of my hands.

It was a three hour drive to get to where dearest one was at a conference.
The committe in my head had one hell of a party on the way there.
I had to distract them too many times to count.
They went full speed from one far reaching conclusion and back again.
Ridiculous, but very human thoughts.

I get to dearest one and he is in one foul mood.
He had a migraine so he left the conference mid morning,
took his migraine meds, and next thing he knows it's mid afternoon.
His eyes are still light sensitive and his head is tender.
I'd be grumpy, too, if I were him.
We wait at the elevator and I start to take his mood personally.
I think of the video I posted earlier in the month
and smile to myself.
Okay, dearest one is grumpy, I am feeling needy
and I get to choose my attitude.
Somewhere in my head I think, "Lovely, just lovely."
Then I pray and detach and manage not to get sucked into grumpyland.
We sit with our backs up against the headboard of the bed and talk.
Eventually dearest one asks me how my appointment went.
There is an "oh shit" look on his face when I tell him.
Sometimes being married to a nurse sucks.
They know how serious an enlarged heart can be.

Earlier in the day I tell God that I am not going back to a life where I have to count my spoons. Not if I can help it. Problem is I can only help so much, you know?

I haven't sat and fully hashed this out with God,
but I will.
After the house is quiet and people have gone to work
I will sit and tell God all about my fears.
I will have a good cry.
And I will surrender the whole situation and myself
to the One who loves me wholeheartedly.
I will pray the Lord's prayer.
Surrender is both sweet and painful.
It will,no doubt, do my heart good.

Sidetracked

I have a full week ahead of me.
Three days of work, then two afternoons of appointments.
One evening meeting lasting 4 hours long where I'll give a preview
of a talk I am giving at a women's retreat next month.
Then a road trip to see only daughter
and get some medical tests done and see
the cardiologist.
The cardiologist who will rag on me about my weight
as usual, for not being in that magical range
that I will never be in again.
I'm okay with that.
She won't be.

I wish she could see this journey of self acceptance
is so much more important than the number on the scale.
Celebrate the success of my not binge eating anymore.
Celebrate the weight loss I do have.
But no, it will be boiled down to a number on the scale.
I guess I better deal with that before I have me some
huge ass resentment.
(I can hear the cardiologist telling me
I already have the huge ass bit down pat.)

Sorry, got sidetracked by the committee in my head.

Anyway, all that to say I'm taking a blog posting break until after I get back home towards the end of the month. Talk to you then.

On The Cusp Of A Sorry State

Dearest one and I went for a drive last night.
to see the countryside that is on the cusp of spring.
We went in his pick up.
When we were newlweds everyone had a pickup.
It was a topic of conversation in his family
to see which couples in the community
sat close together in a pickup.
They'd say the honeymoon must be over
when they started sitting on their own side of the truck
instead of like two peas in a pod.
I thought about this as I got in the truck last night.
Every so often I still sit in the middle,
right next to dearest one
just to confuse people.
Actually, I'd sit there every time
but I have this fear of lap seat belts
and am convinced that if we're in an accident
I will surely be paralyzed for life.
So I choose safety over romance.
Which surely must mean I am no newlywed.
But I never tire of riding in a pickup with dearest one.
It always feels special.
Even when I sit way over on my side of the truck.
_______________________________________


The pugs were in fine shape this morning.
Raced outside to do their business.
Raced back in to sit in front of bedroom doors
in hopes that their masters would wake up.
I waited for them to race back up the hallway
and then proceeded to block it off
so dearest one and youngest son wouldn't
get woken up by pitiful whining
outside their doors.
The energizer bunny guessed what I was up to
while I was in the middle of blocking her path
and she tried every which way from Sunday
to get past me.
She didn't.
I thought to myself that it's a sorry state of affairs
to feel such triumph for outwitting a dog
who doesn't even reach halfway up to my knee.

Six Words, Six Words, Six Words

Weary body, tired mind, spoons needed.



~ Show My Face.

Purging The System

Dearest one and I met with a funeral home guy yesterday to make arrangements to start pre paying our funerals. Which sounds both morbid and responsible to me. Between that and getting our wills, personal directives and power of attorneys done a few months ago I feel like maybe we are growing up at last.

Remember how much I whine that I'm not a morning person and all that jazz? Well, I am now waking up on days off at ungodly hours and getting up. Dearest one is still sleeping. I guess the difference is that he will be cheerful when he wakes up and I will just be awake.

Communication is a funny thing sometimes. I have a talk to give to a group of women in a week's time. It's not written yet which is uncharacteristic for me. Every time I sit down to write it my mind goes on holiday. As we were going to sleep last night I mentioned this to dearest one. He was not sympathetic. When I pointed that out to him I realized I needed to rephrase what I was trying to tell him. After I did he said, "Oh, you're panicked about it. You said it so calmly the first time that I had no idea you were panicked." After which he informed me he was going to sleep now and we once again joked about sleep purgatory. Which is exactly what happened. I lay awake for another hour while he went right to sleep.

My mom is so funny some days. Yesterday we must have talked for over an hour. At one point I was telling her how much better I am breathing and how much clearer my sinuses are since I stopped eating wheat. How it used to be that I had to have a box of tissues close by when I ate because my nose became a faucet. She said, "My nose runs when I eat, Granny's nose ran when she ate. I thought it was something that happened when a person got old." No, mom, it happens when you have allergies. I left it at that because if it's not my mom's idea first it usually isn't a good idea in her eyes. "Gee, if it's not my mom's idea, it's not a good idea to her. If it's not my idea, it's not a good idea to me. It must be genetic." No, that's ego and pride I tell myself.

In just over a week I am going on a trip to see only daughter. Really, I have several appointments with health specialists but they happen to be in the same city as only daughter. I miss only daughter. It's been 8 months since we've seen each other. It's going to be fun to spend some time together.

I'm taking only daughter my good blue willow dishes. A friend gave them to me quite a few years ago. They are pretty to look at but eating off of blue plates has never appealed to me. They appeal to only daughter. Plus I only use the good dishes a few times a year and while I secretly have a pretty dish fetish, could buy lots of pretty dishes just because they are pretty to look at, it makes no sense to my rational mind to have more than one set of dishes.

Well now that I've got all this out of my head maybe I can write that talk. Dearest one is up and showered and should be sitting beside me as soon as his coffee is brewed. I don't drink coffee. Never have really. Which is a good thing because caffeine makes my heart go beserk and I really don't need another addiction. At AA I've learned to make the coffee but the first time I did, without any help, there was more than one person who asked, "who made this coffee?" It wasn't a compliment.

Misery Optional

ht to recovering wino

The Chorus In My Head

"They just told me I had table 40. I'm so sorry. I bet you know what you want to order after waiting an hour already."

I smile at my waitress and give her my order for supper.
If she only knew the dialogue that went through my head as I waited, at most, 10 minutes, for her to show up at my table.

It's payday. My first one in over 5 years. I have a board meeting in an hour and decided to treat myself to a nice restaurant supper beforehand. Usually it's Subway for this gal so it's really a treat.

When I first walked into the restaurant and the hostess found out I wanted a table for one she asked if I minded being seated in the lounge. Why, yes I did. Long day at work, surrounded by noise, I wanted a little distance between me and the half a dozen TV screens and the music blaring, so I declined and she brought me to a booth. My favourite booth, in fact, although she didn't know that. The restaurant is busy. From where I'm seated I watch a young family as they eat their supper. The little boy, no more than 3, picks up his hamburger and his face looks like he is ready to feast. The difference between his little mouth and the full size hamburger makes me smile. He eats with such enthusiasm. I watch as he and his sister trades sips of their drinks with each other.

Meanwhile there is a party going on in my head. Usually the service in this restaurant is really good. They take your beverage order within moments of sitting down. Tonight they are bustling about as if I'm invisible. Granted, my booth is at the end of two converging rows so I have no idea which server gets my table. I lean out once or twice to try and get someone's attention. Doesn't work. Then the chorus in my head tells me that really, they are punishing me for not taking that chair in the lounge, and the hostess has conveniently forgotten to tell my server that I'm here. That's the first thought that comes to mind. Immediately I challenge it. I look at how busy they are. I see how many trips the server makes to the family of four's table and think to myself that she very well may be panicking inside because they aren't her only table but they are needing a lot of service. I decide they are simply busy and will get to me when there's a momentary lull.

Which satisfies me for maybe a minute before the chorus in my head reminds me that I'm being punished for not taking the seat in the lounge and I deserve to be treated better than this. Again I challenge that thought. Around and around we go. It's a wonder I'm not too tired to eat by the time my server appears.

She is so apologetic.
She didn't know I was there.
I choose to believe it's a momentary lapse instead of a revenge induced forgetting on the part of the hostess.

Eventually my food arrives and I read the paper and eat my supper.
Perhaps tuckered out by the drama,
the chorus in my head settles down
and goes back to sleep.

Later, standing at the lounge counter paying for my meal,
the noise of the place swarming around me,
I realize the chorus in my head
gave the lounge noise a run for its money.

Sleepy Insight

I've been reading My Stroke Of Insight the past few days. It's one of those books one has a hard time putting down. I'm quite enjoying it.

Often I marvel at how my body works. As I've worked to have a better relationship with my body I've done things like talk to it. After a shower I often thank it from head to toe as I dry off. Everything from being grateful for my feet which have supported my body, my legs for taking me places and on it goes. I try to keep those thoughts in mind on a regular basis.

When I was at my sickest a few years ago, it was a real struggle to be grateful for my body. I felt like it was betraying me. I don't know how it all works, body and mind, but I do remember having a day when I simply told God that I wanted to live. A doctor, who in his wisdom (was absolutely wrong), said I had maybe 10 to 15 years at best, was my impetus to declare, basically, no fucking way. It was his misdiagnosis that prompted me to start looking for life. And I meant it in a way that goes beyond the physical body. It had to do with attitude and outlook on life more than anything. I had no idea what the future held, and never will, but I did know that I wanted to live, really live.

I have no control over whether I get to live a long life. But I do have control over my attitude for the time I do have. And it's always a choice. As life plays itself out I get to choose my attitude towards (especially) the circumstances that are beyond my control. It means being fully human, with all those emotions, and knowing that I'm not alone as I journey. Even when it feels like I've been deserted by God, he is hunkered down beside me, with me, in the circumstance. It means that for those events where it all seems hopeless, there is a God of my own understanding, who will hold out the beacon of hope when I can't grasp hope at all. Thankfully there hasn't been too many of those kind of events in my life. But as I age - and I see every passing year as a privilege - I'm sure there will be more and more of them. Lord have mercy.

Whew - I didn't know I could type anything more than
mindless twitterish drivel at this hour of the day.
Well, this could all be drivel too, seeing how I'm barely awake.
Have a great, hope filled day.

Waking Up Slowly

It looks like the Twilight Zone outside this morning.
The fog is almost making the moon disappear.
Energizer Bunny and Yoga Pup are racing up a storm
at this ungodly hour. They just crashed into their food dishes
and now they are walking around with subdued energy.
Many days they race up and down the hallway so fast that it's
dangerous to get in their way.
Every so often they race while trying to look over their shoulder
and we hear them smack into the wall with a thud.
On the weekend one of those thuds was one of them hitting my leg
while they were racing at full speed.
Isn't it illegal to have that much energy this early in the morning?
Now Yoga Pup is barking as if he's saying to the Energizer bunny,
"give me back my toy."
I do so hope I wake up soon.

Gob Smacked

This video wasn't available to embed here but please go watch this wonderful bit from Britain's Got Talent: Susan Boyle. It's always a bit of a treat to see Simon Cowell gob smacked.

ht to The Anchoress

Sleep Purgatory

"Don't talk to me, I'm almost in that place, in between waking and sleeping."

I say it rather snarkily.
If I go backwards towards being awake,
sleep might elude me for hours.
I panic at the thought.
Dearest one crawls into bed and I snuggle up
and kiss that spot in between his shoulder blades.
"Careful, you might lose your in between place."
I can tell he's grinning as he says it.
Then he informs me that he has no in between place,
he's either awake or sleeping.
"I don't have sleep purgatory like you do."
We both laugh.
When I think about how snarky I am about someone disturbing my purgatory I say, "Maybe I deserve sleep purgatory."
I don't remember if dearest one replied
because I promptly fell asleep.
Maybe someone was praying for me.

Sign Of Faith

"We are all a little bit angry with God because we never expected a tragedy this big," L'Aquila Archbishop Giuseppe Molinari told the faithful gathered in a tent. "But even anger toward God is a sign of faith."

~ Bishop from the Italian region hit by an earthquake earlier this week.

Six Words, Six Words, Six Words

Changing my mind, peace replaces stress.



~ Show My Face.

New Again

I know I've posted this one before but it is especially fitting today.

The High Road

"I like that poster."

He's pointing to a poster on my office wall that talks about how winners basically choose their attitude and instead of taking the easy road of whining and bitching, they choose the higher road. It's one of a handful of posters left on the walls by the woman who had this job before me.

I keep a straight face, but I want to let out a belly laugh so badly. He's just spent 5 minutes bitching to me about his boss and how he's going to quit his job. He stops long enough to tell me he likes the poster and then resumes his complaints.

I can't laugh too loudly, though.
I wonder how often I do the exact same thing
and remain unaware of it.
There's the ideal and then there's reality.
And while it's true that I often, by the grace of God, choose the higher road there are those moments when I think, yes, I'd like to be like that, while sinking comfortably back into the mire.

Of Rainbows and Furrowed Roads

"I'm not used to you being impatient."

We're sitting in a portrait studio, waiting to choose pictures of dearest one in his graduation garb. There are 5 big photos of him in front of me. He is smiling with those rainbow arched wrinkles above his eyes. It's easy to pick my favourites.

If they took my picture right then there'd be a scowl and no doubt furrowed brows. No rainbow arches for me. More like a rut in the road wrinkle between my eyebrows.
I'm tired. I just want to go home. I'm feeling inflexible about taking a detour to pick the photos and the saleslady is taking forever to come help us. I'm not used to me having no patience either. And I'm too tired to care.

Just as I'm ready to walk out of the store she comes over and tries to sell us nearly 250 dollars worth of photos. Yeesh. I love this man. I love looking at these photos of him. But I seriously don't need a mirror like experience of looking at a photo everywhere I turn. We pick our photo package and I leave while dearest one pays the bill.

I have one stop to make. Well, I had three but I decided to cut two of them because I am feeling impatient as hell and I just want to go home. Dearest one has a stop as well. We're in separate vehicles and I fully expect him to be home before me.

It's a long drive home. About half way there dearest one passes me in his pick up. I reach for my cell phone and call him. I can see him ahead of me holding his cell phone to his ear. I make amends right then about being so impatient over an important decision to him. He's worked hard these past two years to work full time and get his degree. He'll have a few months off before he starts on the next level of education. It means job security for him to do this and I kind of like having a roof over my head. We chat and I say sorry and he tells me how he felt about my impatience. It's all good as we hang up our respective phones.

I think about step 10 as I drive home.
Soon dearest one is beyond my sight.
Tonight he'll be my rainbow
at the end of my furrowed road home.

Teasing Smiles

I am so not a morning person.
Why would one choose to be up
when the sun is still visiting distant relatives?
Right. To get a paycheck.
Silly me.

Dearest one couldn't resist teasing me
as he went out the door
shortly after 5:30 AM.
Teasing me that I'm up so early
when I don't have to be at work
until an hour and half later than he does.
Then he remembered that if he got up earlier
maybe he'd be able to eat breakfast.
And that he has much less hair to fix than me
and hasn't taken to wearing makeup,
so that helps his morning schedule.

Dearest one does have the most beautiful smile.
It lights up his face.
I will carry his parting teasing smile
with me through the day today.
For even though it's still dark outside
and I'll never be a morning person,
his smile continues to light up my heart.

Ding, Ding, Ding

It's been a great day.
I know everyone has their idea of fun.
When it comes to work, mine is methodical tasks.
So I like it when there's a pile of filing to do,
when there are appointments to be made and phones to answer.
Isn't it a good thing that's what my job is partly made up of?

I am so glad I can see some humour in the learning process.
I dutifully scanned the packing slip, emailed it away and was quite pleased with myself. About a half an hour later I went to file the photocopy. I looked at the name on it and thought, "Hmmm. I don't think that's the person I emailed it to. I don't quite remember. If I email her and say, "hey, did you get a copy of this receipt by mistake she'll think I'm a few bricks short a load if I didn't send it to her. Hmmm."

And I left it at that, knowing who the right person was the next time I had to do that task, wondering still if I messed it up or not.
People are not only welcoming me in this new job, they cut me slack. Ding, ding, ding my inbox rang and there was an email that said, "I don't think you meant to send me this." She signed it with a happy face. And I could write back, "You're so right! I didn't."

There was a time when perfectionism hounded me so relentlessly that I'd have experienced a nose dive in self esteem as soon as the mistake had been revealed. I am so thankful I can grin and learn from it and carry on to other things.

Tomorrow is full of interesting new people to meet and tasks to do.
But this is today. And it's been full and satisfying.

Friendly Music

For some reason this had me in tears as I watched. I love the Sound of Music. I used to play that record when I was in college. One morning, in a fit of spite towards our downstairs neighbours, who we'd reported for a noise violation the previous night, I played the Sound of Music loud, very loud, at 7 AM. Needless to say we were not on good terms. I did try to befried them one afternoon when I was drunk. They had company, one of their mothers, over for a barbecue. I was uber friendly after being at a work related function where there were waiters walking around with wine on trays. I walked across their lawn greeting them like long lost friends. All I remember about that attempt at friendship was how they looked at me,their eyes saying, "WTF are you doing?" And because it's all about me, I wonder if they think of me when they hear this music? :)

Enough

I'm home in between two trips to town today.
I know that's crazy but it's what works
for the best for everyone involved.
In two hours I'll turn around and head back.
I'll have supper with a group of people largely unknown to me.
Not too long ago I would have copped an excuse to not show up.
It's out of my comfort zone for sure.
For whatever reason today that's okay.
I will pray that I will bring something to the situation
instead of seeing what I can get out of it.
I have no wish to be either invisible or the center of attention.
Just being me is enough.

I saw deer on the hillside as I drove to town this morning.
Too late in the morning to see the herds of elk
that have been grazing in predawn light.
Snow sculptures of every kind littered the ditches.
The sun is slowly melting piles of snow and revealing
jagged edges of snow drifts.
The sight makes me smile for some reason,
in a "die, you sucker" kind of way.

I was moseying down the card aisle at the drug store
and saw a display of Easter cards.
Now isn't it a bit redundant to have Easter cards
specifically labelled as religious?
I took a closer look and saw a multitude of ones
that weren't.
I laughed outloud at the sight.
Right.
Can't have Easter mean something
that might offend the masses.
Lord have mercy.

I chaired my home group AA meeting.
There were a fair number of people there
who I'd never seen before.
We've gone from a group that struggled to have 5 people present
to one that has almost outgrown its meeting room.
How cool is that?
I saw on one of the roundup notices that someone from
Steve-o's neck of the woods is speaking
at a round up one province over.
Instantly I thought about my secret wish to have
Pam or Mary Christine come speak at our local round up one day.
One never knows.
Wishes do come true.

My sponsor gave me a lovely little gift book today
that says on the front "The Spirit of Hope".
I love when people get who I am.

Six Words, Six Words, Six Words

Full day with friends, strangers, family.



~ Show My Face.

Regular Stuff

I have a long list of things to get done today.
Doesn't that make me feel oh, so important.
Ha. Dishes, laundry, exercise, phone for appts.
Regular stuff. Regular stuff is good.
Much better than the drama I could dream up if I wanted to.
So glad I don't want to.

However, I was just thinking of
revamping the template on my blog;
which would be fun and distract me
from doing the next right thing.

The next right thing is washing dishes.
Dirty dishes means I had the privilege of eating.
The Pug Posse is happy I'm home today.
They are vying for space at my feet.
As if the one who gets closest is more important.

If you are the praying kind
could you lift up dearest one today?
He is still suffering from the whiplash.
The doc has ordered x-rays
to rule out a compression fracture in his back.
He's in lines-etched-in-his-forehead kind of pain.
Very glad it's the end of the work week for him.

Halfway There

"I can't remember the word."

I'm sitting in my therapist's office yesterday feeling brain dead. I sit there with my head in my heads trying to think of the word I want. Eventually it comes to me although my train of thought has lost its momentum.

I now know not to book a therapy appointment at the end of my three day stint of work. I am too tired to think straight. I just want to go home and put on my pjs and watch mindless TV. We agree to cut my session short. I rebook for a later on in the month, on a day when I don't work. I'll hopefully have more brain cells by then.

I leave her office and get in my car. It's in a scary part of town. I could walk out of my therapist's office and buy drugs, booze or sex. There are always people on the sidewalk across the street from my car watching. Some days that makes me feel scared. I park as close to her office door as possible. I always want to get in my car and lock the doors. I often feel bad that I want to do that in that part of town.

I don't know why I'm writing this other than to get it out of my head. Random thoughts on a morning when I can stay in my pjs as long as I want.

Anyway, I make a u turn right on the street and head off to buy groceries. My body hurts. Yog pup has a penchant for slippers. I can't remember where I put mine, most likely somewhere out of his reach. My slippers have my insoles in them that make my feet hurt less. I love how I feel in high heels at the start of the day. By the end of the day I think they are instruments of torture. I feel every step as I push the cart into the store. Halfway there I remember that perspective is everything. One thing I've been learning the past few years is that I can turn any statement of "I have to" into "I get to". I remember that not too many years ago we had no money to buy groceries. We were regular food bank users. In my neck of the woods that was 5 bags of groceries once a month. We had three teenagers to feed. I'm thinking all this as I head into the store and rephrase my "having to buy groceries" to "I get to buy groceries". It doesn't make my feet hurt any less but my attitude improves greatly.

Gullibe Schmullible

I am so glad that no one at work knows
how gullible I can be, it being April Fool's and all.
I can laugh at myself when caught in that gullibility
and I still blush like crazy.
But I prefer not to get punked.

Today is my Friday.
Hard not to be grateful on a Friday now, isn't it?
I was laying in bed in the middle of the night,
my head swirling with things I need to do today,
and I was thinking how grateful I am that AA has taught me
to cultivate an attitude of gratitude.
When I first came back to AA I thought that a person
could only be grateful if the stars were all lined up in my favour.
I was a dead ringer for believing I was the conductor of everyone's life
and if only people would cooperate I would be happy, dammit.

I had a bit of a cynical heart.
My home group is called Gratitude 24/7.
By listening to others and then practicing a lot,
I learned how to be genuinely grateful.
It doesn't mean I pretend
I don't feel or think a certain way.
If I'm thinking "eff you" it's written all over my face.
It does mean that despite the circumstances I find myself in
I can find lots of things to be grateful about.

49 and Counting

It's dearest one's birthday today.
Next year will be the big five oh for him.
It freaks him out.
He doesn't feel that old.
He doesn't look that old, either.
One of the most loveable things about dearest one
is that he has retained his ability to be child like.
Not childish.
Child like.
You know, that wonder about the world around him.
He makes life fun.
I hope he has a fun day today.
He left before daylight for work.
I was sleeping. Probably snoring.
He's very hard to buy a present for.
He never gives me a list of things to choose from.
I have to figure it out on my own.
Which I did.
I can get like a kid when I have a present for someone.
In that annoying way - like Garfield's dog friend.
Sorry, it's too early for me to remember his name.
But I do get kind of yappy/jumping up and down
when I have a surprise for you.

I don't mind getting one year older.
It means I got to live this long.
That is a gift.
Pure gift.
Which is really something to jump up and down about.
Happy birthday dearest one.

Of Muscles, Spoons and Sleep

There's nothing like sitting behind a desk all day to cure me of spending too much time online at home. My body hurts so much right now I keep holding my breath. My body is screaming at me to take better care of all those muscles. Well, the muscles I would have if I'd been an exercise guru while I was losing weight. I only have those saggy pouches of skin that somehow on the Biggest Loser they don't have. Right, that's because they exercise like mad when they're losing weight. They don't wait until it's all saggy and the muscles that are supposed to be holding up all that skin have atrophied as well. Damn, I hurt.

All that to say I can't sit at my desk at home one more minute.

Before I leave my chair though, I am grateful for several things:

For making it through the day without causing
one single machine in the office to crash.
For figuring out how to do several tasks
that need to done on a regular basis.
That after many tries, many blank emails,
I got a scanned copy to appear in my inbox.

For 800 numbers. I answered the phone and gave people another number to call....you know the one where they know what they're talking about?
I am glad for 800 numbers when I'm the one giving them out.
Not so glad for them when they call me at night
trying to sell me something....like swampland in Florida.
(no offense to floridians)
For not having to walk through all these firsts alone.
For cruise control on my car.
It takes less energy than keeping my foot on the gas.

Despite the physical pain I'm in now, I had a good day.
I like the people I work with.
I have no spoons left but I plan on being in bed before 9 pm
and hope to sleep like I'm dead.
Before that I'm doing yoga
no matter whether I want to or not.
I'm glad I have choices.
I'm glad to be alive.
I'm grateful to have a job.
I'm glad I won't forever be in pain
at the end of every single work day.

Perspective 101

I hope you have a great Monday.
I plan on it.
I will never be a morning person,
one of those so cheerful
you could just clock them
kind of person,
but I am grateful
that morning comes.

We were at the funeral of a young girl
this past weekend.
I've already had close to 30 years more than she did.
God help me have perspective no matter what
circumstances I find myself in today.
Because you are with me in them.

Gimme Gimme

"What if I'm using confession as a means to an end? In the same way I used people for sex? In that gimme, gimme kind of way that is pure selfishness?"

That was just one bit of conversation yesterday during confession with Fr. Charlie. He very gently pointed out that I had no idea how the grace imparted in this Sacrament was going to work its way out in my life. Only that it definitely would.

I'm grateful that I can't figure out how God is going to work in my life. That grace remains a mystery and a gift. While I can be a conduit of it, I can't manifest it.

Over twenty years ago a minister asked me how I defined God's grace. At the time the only working knowledge I had of the word grace was something you said before meals when your grandma was present. So I looked at him and said,in one of the rare moments pre sobriety, "I don't know." A few years ago I found that minister's email address and wrote him about that conversation. I'm still left speechless trying to describe grace but I can recognize it when it pours over me like rain. And give thanks.

Confessionville

"God must have wanted me to get to confession before I hit the ditch."

Fr. Charlie laughs in response to my observation.
My heart rate's been going beserk ever since I nearly landed in the ditch on the way to my appointment. I hit a patch of slushy ice and my tires caught. I headed towards the ditch where another vehicle was already sitting, having hit the same patch of ice. I screamed for Jesus to help me and remembered my manners at the last minute because I added "please" before I stopped screaming. Sometimes I wonder if God isn't up there scratching his head at someone remembering their manners when their life is flashing before their eyes while he knows they forget to say 'excuse me' on a regular basis when they brush too close past someone in a store. Go figure.

Inches from the shoulder of the highway my car went back towards its lane and through the rest of the slushy ice before we hit a dry patch of road. Not sure what the people in the vehicles in the oncoming lane thought as I swerved hither and yon. Within a short distance there were 3 vehicles in the ditch. I slowed down and made my way north towards Confessionville. I thanked God that I was safe. I asked the angels to protect me. I thought about our friend's daughter and wondered why one person is spared and another isn't. I quickly realized there will never be a plausible explanation to that one even though in my head rolled platitudes and well meaning explanations from people I know. Truth is, we simply don't know cause we aren't God. Accepting life on life's terms is a bitch some days. Feels that way anyway.

So I got to Confessionville where Fr. Charlie and I caught up on each other's lives. We laughed, we sat in lengthy silence, we talked nonstop for a bit. And slowly we came around to meaty stuff. The stuff that comes from the gut. My gut. I had a revelation during confession that left me speechless for a moment, wondering if I was going to get brave enough to speak it aloud. After several starts and stops, I did. The tears ran freely. Grace, grace, God's grace, is a beautiful state of being.

On my way back home there was a semi truck freshly pulled from the ditch on the opposite side of the road where I nearly went in. I wondered if there was a priest somewhere waiting for that driver to fess up, too. Not that I was ready to trade places. It does shed a light on keeping to my side of the street, though. Truly. I need all the help I can get to stay out of the ditch.

Mantra Chantra

It looks like a lovely day out there.
I am heading out to see Fr. Charlie in a few hours.
Should be an interesting appointment.
He gave me a talking to a while ago.
He's never done that before.
I needed it.

Tonight there is a Big Book Study happening in town.
If I'm not too tuckered out from travelling
a hundred miles in the opposite direction
I'll head in to town.
Someone from south of the border is coming
to speak in our little neck of the woods.
I know I'm going to be intrigued by his accent.

When I lived in another part of the country
I used to rant about the Canadians there
being so influenced by the Americans
right across the border
that they had adopted their accent.
I don't know why I felt so threatened by that
other than it was a time in our history
where my part of the country was ranting
about separating from the rest of it.
I'd rant about that, too.
I ranted about everything.
When I was drunk I thought I ranted
with a touch of charm.
Ha.

Those of you who've listened to my radio documentary
know I have my very own accent.
I can't hear it.
Isn't that so much like life?
I'm normal, what's your problem?
That was my mantra for ever and ever.

These days I'm glad I am content to be me
and let you be you.
Instead of being threatened by our differences
I can accept them.
I can welcome what we have in common
which is always way more than our differences.
Even if I do end all my sentences with "eh?"

Teary Encounter

This video had me in tears this morning. I found it here.

Why I am Catholic

Hope Rocks

The best thing about this time of year
is that the sun can undo damage in an afternoon.
Snow in the morning? If the sun comes out,
it is gone by the time you're done work.
There are happy pugs sleeping nearby me.
My body is beyond weary this morning but my heart is happy.
I woke in the night and my brain was just waiting to play.
Hard to slow that sucker down in the dark.
I'm scared of the dark, too.
So a nap will be in my forecast this afternoon.

I don't have to go back to work until Monday.
That makes me feel very spoiled.
I have never had a job where I have a desk.
Now I do.
What personal items do you put on your work desk?
About the only thing I know I'm putting there is a clay bowl filled with rocks. I have several rocks with the word "hope" engraved on them.
They will go on the top of the pile.
Everyone needs a touch of hope in their day.

Gratitude

I don't think I will ever be a morning person.
But I can get up at an ungodly hour and be decent about it.
The 12 steps have taught me I get to choose my attitude
especially when I'd rather be asleep.

I did have a great first day of work.
The job is doable.
I can do it.
It's a pretty relaxed atmosphere.
No one is expecting me to be an expert
with only one day of training.
Actually I think the job is going to spoil me.

The powers that be cancelled school buses this morning
due to the snow and blowing snow.
We narrowly escaped being hit by a ding bat who sailed through a stop sign on the other side of the four lane highway and then failed to yield to oncoming traffic, which was us.
I rarely call other drivers names but he did scare me this morning.
That part of me that has a vivid imagination
went on a little jaunt right then.
It never imagines plain old ordinary life. No, it's got to be something like, "OMG she died on her first day of work, she was so stupid dedicated that she drove a hundred 70 miles in a snowstorm to get there on time.
You know, that kind of trip.

Over the past many years I have walked away
from all gossipy relationships.
My new job?
Everyone congregates around my desk
cause it's the hub of the place.
And they talk.
It's not malicious talk but it's talk.
So this should be interesting.
That part of me that thrived on juicy bits of other people's lives?
It's still there.
But I lost my desire to feed it somewhere along the way.
I think it was when dearest one's brother was killed and the rumours
abounded about him being murdered. The gossip wheel went haywire and the reporters phoned every single one of us with the same last name and wanted all the details. None of the immediate family would cooperate.
So on the third page of the newspaper they printed gossip and passed it off as news.
I wrote a letter to the editor asking when did gossip become worthy of the 3rd page?
Anyway, somewhere in there it killed my desire to be a part of the gossip wheel. The only time I want to cave on that is when I'm not willing to look inward and am desperate for some outward looking to boost my ego.

Anyway, it has been a good day.
I was scared I wouldn't be able to do the job
and I found out today those fears were unfounded.
The person who I'm replacing had her last day today
so next week I'm on my own.
I am grateful for having learned how to ask for help
instead of pretending I know it all.
So glad I know my worth is not in knowing but in being.

To top off a really good day my radio documentary is being rerun tonight. If you'd like the details of where to listen to it in the archives drop me an email and I'll tell you.

Gift

New day.
New beginnings.
A winter storm
coincides with my first day of work.
My only day of training.
What's a girl to do?
I've prayed and turned it over.
I'll make my careful way to town.
New days are a gift.

Of Wood Chips & Stone Statues

A friend of mine who I've been hounding to start a blog has done just that. I can still be a first class nag. Check out her marvelous artwork at Wood Chips & Stone Statues. As someone who can't even draw a decent stick figure I am always in awe of those who can do so much more with paint, charcoal, pen and paper.

Coolness

Hip, Hip, Hooray!!
I got the job.
I start on Wednesday.
Cool.
So very cool.
I am thrilled.
(and scared.)

"Beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it's the middle that counts the most. Try to remember that when you find yourself at a new beginning. Just give hope a change to float up and it will...." birdie pruitt, Hope Floats

Interestingly enough when I asked about what qualities someone who has been successful in the position I was being interviewed for had, one of the interviewers talked about swimming instead of sinking.

Float away Hope, float away.

Speedy Gonzales Times Two

The sun is streaming in the window as I type.
My head is aching.
Thankfully they make medicine for that.

I accidentally knocked my my hot brown rice cereal, topped with walnuts and dried cranberries, all over the office floor. During the mopping up I concluded the floor had not been washed in a very long time.
I broke my favourite burgundy bowl.
It fit in my cupped hands just perfectly.
Darn.
I did however, go make more cereal.
The dogs didn't know what to make of my clean up dance.
They haven't come into the office since.

Here's a photo of the happy wretches.
They have begun to be terrific playmates.
They race around the house at breakneck speed,
going wherever the chase takes them.

I was sitting on the couch last night, minding my own business,
when their chase included running right across my chest
as if it was a turn in the Indy 500.
I protested but they were long gone.
They make me smile.
Smiling is good.

Pitiful Offerings

"I hate lighting candles."

Those were my gritting my teeth thoughts this morning as dearest one lit the two prayer candles on the table; watching as the new candle inserts grabbed the light and stood straight up. New inserts mean the old ones, all 168 hours worth, have burned out.

We are in the habit of lighting candles for people who are in need of prayer. We have a collection of coloured glass receptacles....the green one I call my hope candle, the beautiful light blue I call my Mary candle. There are purple, green, gold, deep blue and red ones, too. Some days every single one is lit and as I light them I say the person's name outloud as flame and wick connect. Most days it fills me with peace and some days, like today, it seems like such a pitiful offering and totally fucking futile.

I was sitting at the computer this morning, having told you all about my day yet to unfold, the one where I was receiving my 21 year medallion in AA, where there would be cake and good folk to eat it with. I hit publish post and went on my browsing-the-internet way. Right then dearest one's cell phone beeped. It was laying at my elbow so I turned and looked across to see a message from youngest son. He named a young woman from our community and said she'd been killed in a car accident last night. Her mom babysat for us 25 years ago so the connections run deep.

All I could do was grab the cell phone and make a pitiful noise in my throat. I went to the kitchen and showed dearest one the message. What a weird time we live in. We immediately went back to our computers and signed into Facebook, looking for information. Right there was confirmation that what we'd just heard was indeed, true. We then scrolled down screens to read the last FB exchange between mom and daughter just a few days ago before the road trip began. Thoughts of drive safe and I love yous there in black and white.

Shortly after reading this dearest one got up and went to light the candles. The very first time we lit candles for someone was when dearest one's brother was killed, nearly five years ago. We let those candles burn day and night for days. They were little flickers of hope that reminded us of a God bigger than circumstances, who we clung to when life made absolutely not one iota of sense.

There was something in dearest one's actions this morning, maybe the particular way he bent over as he reached the flame to wick that reminded me of that day and I cannot describe how much I hated lighting the candles right then. It's not a stretch to say that there have been thousands of hours of lit prayer candles in our home the past 5 years. Typing that makes me want to cry and cuss at the same time.

My mind was full as I later navigated icy roads a good part of the way to town. Travelling far slower than the speed limit, I had nasty thoughts as people passed me in a hurry to go God knows where. I don't look forward to getting up and talking at my AA birthday meeting, ever. I suspect it's an ego thing and maybe one day I'll have a lesser one than I do now. I don't know why people get all impressed with years of sobriety. Or maybe with my particular years of sobriety. I think I feel pressure to be some poster child for AA. What rubbish on my part. But still I feel it.

A young woman spoke at the meeting today of having previously thought that perhaps when one attained so many years of sobriety they had a perfect, put together life and how much she appreciated that really, we were still so very human and not put together at all. God bless her.

The one thing I do remember saying today was that it wasn't about having a perfect, put together life, but about knowing Who to turn to when life happens; because life happens to us all.

And so I continue to light candles.

Having Your Cake....

I feel good about my interview.
I'll find out next week.
I do hope I get it.
If I don't, c'est la vie.
Wasn't meant to be.
Thanks to working the steps of AA
I can accept life on life's terms.
Today, anyway.

Speaking of today,
right around lunch time,
I will be receiving
my 21 year sobriety medallion.
I love my home group.
There will be chocolate cake
of some sort to share with whoever shows up
to celebrate with me.
Wish you could join me.

Deep Breathing

"I can feel your anxiety."

I was paying for some purchases when the cashier's words
jarred me into awareness.
I was in a hurry to make an appointment.
Her picking up on my anxiety
helped me take a deep breath and relax.
I've thought of her remark quite a bit though since then.
How we pick up on the vibes of other people.

Today is my job interview.
There is a heavy snowfall warning.
I'm a chicken shit winter driver.
I have driven when the snow
was falling so heavily
there were no discernable driving lanes.
Where you couldn't tell the difference
between the ditch and the road.
It isn't fun.

I think I'll be taking a few deep breaths today.
I'm as prepared as can be for the interview.
I read their whole web site,
including a 45 page business plan.
I'll go in knowing that my HP sees a bigger picture
and I can rest in that regardless of the outcome.
Thanks to that cashier I'll be taking a few deep breaths
before I introduce myself.
Aware, once again, that things unspoken get communicated
just as easily as those said outloud.

Hands To Catch Me

The grace of God is beautiful.
I love that one can never predict it's timing.
One day you wake up to find something has shifted inside.
You know you can't take any credit for it.
You wanted it, you hoped and prayed for it
and it was beyond you to make it happen.
But here it is; it's real and deep
and there's no going back.
That's when I know it's real.
No matter how familiar the old way was,
to go back would kill a little piece of my soul.
and something within me says, "No."
And I'm given the grace to keep facing the light.

I've been in therapy the past 18 months
for things pertaining to childhood sexual abuse.
At one point we were ready to
wrap things up and
call it a day.
Then I had a slip when it came to sexual addiction
and that opened a whole new can of worms.
And once that can had been opened
there was no going back, either.
I thought "Oh, shit, shouldn't have been so honest there."
While knowing dishonesty could kill me.
I didn't want to open a new can of worms because
I sometimes feel scared of the process.
Times like that I feel like I'm jumping blindly
of the edge of a cliff,
trusting there are hands to catch me.

A bunch of gunk needed to be scraped off
the edges of a 35 year old wound.
Long held beliefs that were shit really.
The last few weeks I let go
of thought distortions I've held my whole life long.
I'd given them lip service acknowledgement.
Knew they were distortions in my head
but now my heart knows they are bona fide lies.
Do you ever look at yourself and go
"Holy shit, how'd that happen?"
because you're changed and
you didn't do it.
Most humbling.
Fills me with gratitude.
Those shifts give me hope.
Great hope.