Do you have a to-do list? Does your partner give you, or suggest things for you to do as well? We tend to think that men are the only ones with a honey-do list. Well that’s just not so.
I normally have ‘chores’ that fall into the weekend list; grocery shopping, cleaning house (to the extent that I ever do housework), maybe leaf blowing.
Next week I won’t have to worry about weekend chores. No job, no structure, no time lines….
But for now… note to self: razor blades
You may recall that Joe is a member of the NRA, I am not. Recently we attended, nay, worked the committee for a Friends of the NRA dinner, I even wrote about here.
Last weekend the NRA threw a ‘thank you’ party for all the committees in the state who had put on fundraising events. Fast forward to “WE” attended the event. After the normal chit chat with other attendees, some ogling of the guns to be auctioned and decisions about which NRA piece of merchandise to use our free raffle tickets on, lunch was ready ( donated by a fellow gun worshipper/chef).
First order of business: find the American flag for the Pledge of Allegiance. Mandatory for gun-toters apparently. Then the NRA Field Rep wanted to say a blessing. I was raised as an Episcopalian -a Christian- and I’ve lived in the Deep South for over 14 years. I know my prayers. This one, however, was a little over the top. I have friends who are not Christian, a few are Jewish, some are non-believers. So, I’m always a bit offended at a prayer to Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior (say those last 4 words fast w/ emphasis) outside of a Christian setting. Why can’t we just settle for a more generic God prayer?
Well imagine that same type of prayer… incredibly long winded, rambling, and poorly done. It was one of those “we just wanna thank you for this…. and we just wanna thank you for that….. ” Somewhere in there ole Dave or BillyBob, I forget his name, thanked the Good Lord for our right to bear arms!
Did Jesus bear arms? Did he preach to the Apostles about their right to fight back? To pick up those stones as their given right, and carry them- with permission for concealing of course. To defend themselves? I’ve read my Bible.. I even own a Bible. Was that chapter omitted? Because I can’t imagine Jesus and guns. If Jesus had carried a weapon when Lazarus rose from the dead he could have shot him, saving us from a zombie. Or Judas? He needed to have been popped. Pontius Pilate, the money traders, even Peter. Jesus Carries a Gun would have been a totally different Sunday morning precious moment!
It was a most uncomfortable prayer moment… minutes actually. And what saved me was thinking about this post! Forget Jesus, I had post material.
Our penitent soul then went on to talk about the Americans.. he added in a moment of thanks for those who were not born in the USA but had come to our country, praise the Lord. Those who had become citizens and supported this nation and our way of life- maybe not my way of life. That’s like pointing out your children but noting out loud which ones are the bastards! WTF…
It was quite an experience. Scary on one level for me. The quiet determination to nourish and develop this way of thinking. People talking about their country with such rigid, non-inclusive terms. Assuming that everyone was Christian while noting a clear divide between native Americans- and I don’t mean Indians- and immigrants, though the word immigrant was not used. And, these people have guns! Lots of them.
I saw lots of NRA merchandise. I bet they produce NRA bibles… if not, then I might have a second book coming! Not to be confused with The second coming, or the other type of second coming we can rejoice for!
I haven’t written a word in over a week. I have myriad excuses.. there are extra people in my house, I’m uptight about work, my hormones are raging, I can’t write if I’m not at home.
And maybe the reality is that I am afraid. I can’t seem to get focused. I need structure. I’m the only one who can impose that structure and get back on track.
What I get to do in this ’state’ is talk about what I am going to do, and talk about how empowering it is to just quit my job and stay home to write. I talk about following a dream, one that has been several years in the making. And, then I sit here and procrastinate.
I know one ‘answer’ is write.. just write, and write and write. It will come. Well that doesn’t feel like the right answer for me right now. I want the right environment, the perfect set of circumstances.
It’s not like I really want to set myself up for failure. I don’t. The old childhood voices, you know the ones.. we all have some version. Mine goes something like this” you’ll never… if only you would…., girls should…” . Fill in the blanks.
Yes, it’s an old tape, one that should be frayed and in need of serious mending right now. But it still plays and I still get mesmerized, watching the tape loop around and around the reel. It’s hypnotic, it feels familiar. And, as long as I watch the loop I feel the familiar. Never mind that the familiar is somewhat painful. It’s a comfortable discomfort. I’ve lived with it for more years than I’ve lived without it.
To let go of those self-defeating voices is to sidle close to the edge. To risk the fall. On the better days, I know I’m capable of mastering it all. All. Every challenge, every ’stuck’ moment. So, what do I do?
Tomorrow, or now as you’re reading this, I find my notebook and my favorite pen. I find the comfy chair and I start writing words. I disregard meaning, grammar, spelling, continuity. I just write whatever comes to mind. And, if it makes little sense I ignore that thought and just let words flow. Later I can pick up the thread of previous writings and begin to sort out the words, to embue them with meaning. But, for now I have to be compassionate and nurturing, forgiving and hopeful, sure of who I am and what I want to accomplish.
How do you make a choice? Is it based on positives or negatives? Do you vote against a candidate, let yourself be ruled by the things you don’t like? Or do you think about what you want, visualize a positive result and act in accordance?
This topic has come up several times recently, Dr. Phil, Jay Leno, Men’s Health magazine. Fellow blogger over at Life Lessons took on the topic with links to the above mentioned.
It started me thinking about sex and why I’ve had sex at various times in my life?
These start out chronologically but don’t necessarily continue in that way. I could probably come up with more reasons, not 200+ but….
We have sex for lots of reasons and I’d wager that a significant number of them are not all that healthy. Admittedly some of the choices I list fall in that category! Having sex as a middle-aged woman is different from that of a teenager so I’m comfortable listing “Why not?” as one of my reasons. I don’t think that’s a good one for a teen.
Now days, I have sex with my full power to choose, consent and participate in ways that I want. And I think that’s really the only way we should be doing it!
I’m borrowing this idea for today’s post from Misadventures With Andi. How often do we define things that excite, inspire, or scare us?
Saying no to:
Book buying sprees
Overindulging
Clutter
Saying yes to:
Sleeping late
Lattes
Massages
Giddy about:
Joe
The first sight of the ocean
Daffodils
Scared of:
Financial insecurity
Snakes
My vertigo attacks
Inspired by:
Well written novels
Bach
My blogging buddies
Obsessed about:
Chocolate
Expensive shoes
Blogging
In love with:
My grandbabies
The view from my living room
Sunsets
Haunted by:
My fuel oil bill
Childhood memories
Things I should have done
Saved by:
Guided imagery
Intuition
Love
Feel free to share or borrow this idea for your blog.
“Do not learn how to react, but how to respond.”
The Buddha (c.563-c.483 BC)
Over the weekend my son went back to the girlfriend’s place several times. As I was also ‘monitoring’ Facebook- my excuse being that I am friends w/ the GF on Facebook and she was posting her drama all over the place- I saw that she’d put his picture back up. I got nervous. High drama- a series of pictures of my son entitled “once upon a time.”
God, are we 16?
So several days ago I decided I had to say what was on my mind. It was killing me, figuratively. I started by telling him that I needed to say something.
“Sweetie, I”m having a hard time keeping my mouth shut. I have an opinion and I want, so badly, to share it with you. ” I went on to talk about my early marriage challenges and the physical distance from our families which allowed us to keep our private life private.
” I made a pledge not to talk about her and to stay out of what you’re going through. It’s difficult. but I’m trying to honor your need for privacy. I want the best for you and I want you to understand that you deserve to follow your dream and be with people who will support you.”
That was all I said. I was careful and intentional about it. It was terribly difficult because I like to talk and I can clearly see what the problem is (read: all knowing mother). I hope he heard the underlying message that I would support him. I want him to understand that he gets to chart his own course. He deserves to be in a relationship with someone who accepts him as he is.
Isn’t it so strange what we do, and it’s primarily we women who do it. We find the “right man”… then we want to fix him up! If he’s right, then he’s right just as we found him. If we think our ‘right guy’ needs new clothes, help with hygiene, job coaching, etc… then he’s not really the right one. It’s something those of us who’ve been around have already learned.. the hard way.
I’ve sacrificed too much, too many times so I get it and I see what she’s doing to him. He’s young and thinks this is true love. I think true love should have a larger measure of acceptance. but I had to learn the hard way so I need to give him the space to learn at his own pace too.
My sister turned 40 on Saturday. We’re 15 years apart, a difference that seemed huge when I was a teenager. Now our differences are slighter, more circumstantial. I live on the East coast and have 2 sons and an ex-husband. She lives on the West coast and has a fiance and several dogs.
We love each other and enjoy being together on those rare holidays that bring the family together.They are too few and too far apart. I’m the oldest, she’s the youngest, there are 3 brothers between us.
I remember a beach trip 15 years ago, maybe? The whole family came together for a week every summer, Mom, the 5 of us, our assorted spouses or boy/girl friends and our children. It was always a fun and lively week… lots of sunbathing, drinking, chatting.. getting to know each other as adults. It was during one of those weeks, on a lazy afternoon that my sister noticed a streak of gray in my hair. Questioning me with what seemed like urgent concern, mock panic. How old was I when the gray came? I found it pretty amusing, expressing concern that she might one day find herself with a streak of gray.
She was paying attention to my aging, reflecting on her future and worrying about her approaching age. She’s 40 now and I’m 55. I am probably over 50% gray now. She’s still pulling her stray gray hairs out. She looks like a 20-something, youthful and untouched by the years. I find myself a little envious of her youth, her carefree look. I know that we will both age together, at our own pace.. but we will age.
Just this morning, staring in the mirror, with the morning sun bringing me into sharp focus, I noticed my neck is beginning to show saggy skin. I”m getting old. I know I still look pretty good, but at 55 I’m showing my age. Or am I? What does 55 look like? Do I look older or younger than most of my peers? And, does it really matter?
I’m not going to hide my age; color the gray, try to reverse the signs of suntans and aging. I am who I am and I’m pretty proud of it, most days…
So to my sister- Rejoice, enjoy, be happy. Each line, freckle, bit of gray speaks to life experiences. We are the sum of those experiences. And, we should acknowledge all we’ve accomplished. Living out loud means accepting ourselves. Completely.
You’re beautiful. I love you.
The very first episode of Sesame Street aired on November 10, 1969. I can’t believe it’s really been 40 years. I watched the show with my sister as she grew up, 15 years younger than me. I watched it again in the mid 80’s with my children.
Who is your favorite Sesame Street character? Mine is The Count, absolutely the most wonderfully quirky character on the show.
