Cyclothymic Cister

Little Gesture--Huge Impact

2008-01-13T08:40:00.000-05:00

Lately I haven’t had anything to say. Even now I find it hard to write these words. Maybe I’m content, maybe I am tired, or maybe I’m just uninspired. I trust, however, that my need to express myself will return, sooner rather than later. But there is one thing that I feel the need to tell. It is about an act of kindness performed by my husband.

I go to bed early to read and watch TV, while my husband does his reading in another room. I always have a caffeine-free diet coke on my nightstand. And I usually fall asleep too early, only to wake up later wanting a drink of my diet coke.

Last night was no different except when I picked up the can of coke it was empty. So I sat it back down. When I did, it made that “empty soda can” sound. Well, don’t you know, that my husband heard that sound from the other room and brought me a fresh diet coke from the frige.

I’ll remember that the next time I’m inclined to get peeved at him.

Tiny and Tiny Too

2007-11-24T08:28:00.000-05:00

We have had Varie (Short for Variegated) now for three months. You may remember my husband found the fire-singed kitten hiding in a clump Irises. (How she got burned in the fire is suspect, but we have a pretty good idea who threw her in).

The minute Varie came into our home she took up with Tiny, our rescued Chihuahua, staying by his side whether he was walking, eating, going outside, or sleeping. The two almost move in sync.

So when I talk to Tiny, Varie is always there, too. When I say, “Tiny, are you hungry?” Varie responds with a meow. When I say, “Tiny do you want to eat?” Varie runs to the cabinet where the food is kept. When I say, “Tiny do you want to ‘go outside’?” Varie runs to the door. When I come home from work and say, “Hi, Tiny!” Varie greets me.

Yes, you guessed it. Varie thinks her name is Tiny.

Why Me?

2007-11-22T08:34:00.000-05:00

The other day I was so exhausted that I came straight home from work, got a carton of Ben & Jerry’s out of the freezer, lay down on the couch and watched TV. I hardly moved the rest of the night.

I was struck with the notion of how easy my life is.

I live 2.5 miles from work—no long commute in traffic.

I don’t have important meetings to attend, and hectic schedules to keep.

My children are grown—no juggling them off to daycare or having dinner and bath time at night.

Meals are not expected anymore, nor is a tidy house. My spouse is easygoing.

I have a comfortable house and a car that runs. I have a washer and dryer in my home.

I am healthy and my husband is healthy.

The only immediate stress we have is having too much.

So I say, “Why me?” Why am I so blessed? Why am I so fortunate to have been born in America and not some war-torn or impoverished country or a country who persecutes its citizens.? Why was I so fortunate to have loving parents who provided well for me? Why am I so fortunate to not suffer any health issues nor have to care for a loved one who does? The list is endless.

We usually hear the words “why me?” when a person has suffered a loss or experienced a tragedy. When we say “why me” in that context, are we not flying in the face of the other sufferers by insinuating that it is ok for THEM to suffer but we are too good for bad things to happen to us? People far more deserving of blessings than I have been suffering from the beginning of time!

So, I say with astonishment and humility, “WHY ME?” Why do I have life so easy? It is sobering thought because “To whom much is given, much is required.” (Luke 12:48)

Lord help me.

Me First

2007-11-14T06:34:00.000-05:00

Should church congregations take advantage of our city police department to help them exit the church parking lot? A huge Baptist church was recently built in our neighborhood on the corner of two highways, with the parking lot exiting onto both highways. On Sundays when church service is dismissed, the police department stops traffic on both highways to let the church traffic out while the rest of us wait.

I don’t know if this is a proper or legal use of our city police force, but at the very least, it does not seem ethical. This sense of entitlement irks me. Aren’t Christians called to be servants? As an example of Christian charity should we not acquiesce to others’ needs first?

Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus
Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God:
But made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant . . . Philippians 2:6-8

What if the Church employed the city police department to direct traffic to let the hard-working factory workers out after a grueling 12-hour shift? These laborers just want to get home to their families; they are not trying to be first to get the best seats at the best restaurants.

Revved Up

2007-10-27T10:04:00.000-04:00

My husband and I went to a car dealership to test drive a car of the type that I’m thinking about buying. The salesman said he had one on the lot, so we walked over to take a look. When the salesman saw that the sticker on the car window read “5 speed manual” he said (looking at me), “Oh, are you the one driving? I didn’t realize it was a 5 speed.”

I replied graciously saying, “Yes, I’m the one driving, but that’s ok. I’ve been driving a stick shift for many years.

What I WANTED to say is: Why do you assume that since I’m a woman that I can’t drive a stick shift. I have been driving one since I was 16 years old and I’m fifty now. And unless your name is Mario, I can probably drive one better than you!

Another Moon

2007-10-27T09:26:00.001-04:00

Harvest Moon

2007-09-30T20:06:00.001-04:00

It has already been a month since I last posted. Seems like I'm intrigued by the moon lately. Last month I got up at 5:00 am to photograph the eclipse that took place on my 50th birthday. A couple of days ago, at around 7:30 pm I took this picture out my back door. Please click to enlarge to get the full effect.

Bumper Sticker Snobbery

2007-08-30T20:05:00.000-04:00

I saw a bumper sticker the other day that said “My daughter saves lives. What does yours do?”

Does that sound kind of snobbish to anyone else? While I am glad for that mother that her daughter is successful, it seems catty to ask what my daughter does, as if it would not be nearly as important as her daughter.

What hurt me was that I had the same aspirations for my daughters as that mother probably had for hers. I taught my children the right things. They were brought up in a good home with proper values. I long to be proud of them. Maybe even brag a little. Yet both of my daughters have made poor choices and have not even come close to living up to their potential. In fact, they are probably the lives that HER daughter has to save.

So I am glad there are life savers in this world. But I love my daughters just the same. They are precious to me even if they never hold prestigious positions.

Eclipse: to decline into obscurity

2007-08-28T06:28:00.000-04:00

There is an eclipse of the moon this morning on my birthday. And just as the earth is casting a shadow across the moon, so it is across my life. Even though the light gets fainter, and the glow of my countenance gets dimmer, I'm still smiling.

on turning fifty

2007-08-27T20:23:00.000-04:00

As a bear innately knows when to wake from hibernation, so my memories of the past 50 years have awakened from slumber. I haven’t been dwelling on the fact that I’m turning fifty. The memories just seem to be connected to an inner clock. As the chimes ring in the half-century mark, the memories yawn and stretch and come out of hiding.

The scenes intrude on my day to day life with voodoo-like jabs. Some scenes make me smile or even laugh out loud, and then suddenly one will make me cringe with embarrassment as another makes me sob with grief, and still another stirs the ache of regret. Some memories make me look back with wistful longing. I have no control of this bombardment. There seems to be no end to the flashbacks.

I’m trying to benefit from this opportunity, if I must endure it. Will I make positive changes? Will I make the same mistakes twice? Can I forgive myself for the bad I’ve done and show humility for the good? Have other people forgiven me for my selfishness and foolishness? Do I have enough fortitude to really be a better person? Or am I too lazy? Will I accomplish things that I thought I would? Should I simply be resigned to the way things were and are? Will I die before I find out?

Surely I’ve been faithful over a few things. God, remember my frame that I am just dust

My Husband Did it Again

2007-08-23T22:45:00.000-04:00

My husband rescued another kitten. This one was found on our vacant lot in an old iris bed. Her crying could be heard over machinery and men's voices. My husband's ears are tuned in to hear meows so he searched her out and picked her up in his arms. The horrible thing is, the kitten had been thrown in a fire. Her hair was singed, her whiskers were curled and she had no eye brows. (Thank goodness there were no burns on her body). Now she is at our house and doing well. She is a calico. We named her Varie, as in Variegated.

Scratch and Dent

2007-08-23T22:31:00.000-04:00

There is already a big scratch. On our new hardwood floors. In a very visible spot.

When we discovered the scratch on the floor I immediately remembered a scene out of a book (a true story, entitled “A Severe Mercy” by Sheldon VanAuken). A young couple were madly in love so they made a pact to let nothing come between them, including material possessions. To ensure that didn’t happen, they purposely put a dent in their new car so the shiny new automobile would not become an icon.

In response to that anecdote my husband said, “Well, we won’t be worshiping our new floors any time soon.”

Friends

2007-07-18T06:52:00.000-04:00

I don’t have a huge circle of friends so the ones I have, I want to treat with respect. Having said that, I want to thank all you friends out there who have kept up with my blog over the last couple or three months, even though I haven’t responded to comments or posted comments to your blogs. I am truly touched.

It is not that I haven’t read your blogs—I have. And I have had things that I really wanted to say, but just have not had the mental wherewithal to compose my thoughts.

So don’t be surprised if you get comments on your older posts. Also, I plan to respond to your comment on my posts, if you care to look back.

Remodeling Houses; Rebuilding Relationships

2007-07-04T12:52:00.000-04:00

Exactly one year ago today my husband and I had just completed getting a rental house ready to sell. (Read entry of JUL 11 ‘06). Every weekend for three months we worked in sweltering heat performing laborious tasks. One unexpected result of the difficult ordeal was that we gained respect for one another thus improving our tottering relationship

This summer is a repeat of last year; only now we are remodeling our own house. Similarly, working as a team doing labor-intensive tasks and living under difficult conditions, has improved our relationship. I think it is something about sharing hardships that does it.

For example, while we were having our floors installed and finished we had to live in a tiny room in our downstairs amidst boxes and stuff, in the same room where the litter of kittens lived. We had no TV and no computer during that time (which was about 10 days). Instead we sat outside until dark and then crashed on a twin mattress on the floor. To mask the smell of kitten odor we burnt incense. It was cozy, and we slept very well.

To get ready for work each morning we had to dig wrinkled clothes out of a suitcase and climb over furniture to make coffee. We scrambled to put the pets in a closed room so they wouldn’t walk on the fresh polyurethane. And then we had to leave for work an hour earlier than normal as the floor crew got started at the crack of dawn. Whewwww.

Putting the house back together has been a slow procedure, but that is how we planned it. No more unneeded items are coming back in. It is nice to have a second chance and a fresh start.

So again on this July 4^th, we’ll plant a flag on the lawn and declare another victory.

An aside: The rental house sold last year only two weeks after we put a For Sale sign in the yard—to the second person who looked at it.

Little Lives that Light up my Life

2007-06-27T20:48:00.001-04:00

Tiny and Kaelyn - First Meeting

Kaelyn & Tiny―Sleepyheads

Kaelyn & Tutti Frutti on Kaelyn's 5th Birthday

Like Mother Like Daughter

Raining Cats and Dog(s)

2007-06-23T08:11:00.000-04:00

I haven’t updated you lately on the pet situation. You may remember that a while back I thought the answer to my problems was a German Shepherd Dog. And you may remember that it didn’t work out because she didn’t like the cats. We had five cats (now six) and of course the cats were first. So the dog went back.

Then, my daughter came to stay with me and brought with her a mother cat with five kittens and a Chihuahua. They would have died if left in the environment they were in. I’m a rescuer by nature (whether it be human or animal), so our household grew.

Well, the daughter left—leaving the pets behind. We found good homes for the mother cat and four of the kittens. We kept one kitten (on purpose) and the Chihuahua by default. His name is Tiny.

Tiny had been abused for the first year of his life. My daughter took him in. Then her ex started abusing the poor thing. He was about a day away from dying when we got him

Now Tiny is a happy healthy little thing—very shy around men, but loves children and other animals. I guess we’ll keep him.

Isn’t life ironic? First I had a majestic, beautiful well-bred, highly trained German Shepard Dog. Now, as if God is keeping my pride in check, the German Shepherd has been replaced by an in-bred, misfit, homely, four pound character who has a crooked jaw, turned-in ankles, buggy eyes, a scar on his head and who snores at night. But over-all, he is the better choice.

I'm Floored

2007-06-20T12:45:00.001-04:00

It has been a long time coming and I still can’t believe it is true, but we now have our new hardwood floors installed. The floors are beautiful!

But that’s not all. We are getting multiple projects finished, cleaning out the garage and tool shop (which now has steps and a deck for easy access) and getting rid of clutter in the house. We are seeing to it that everything has a place and is put away.

Let me give you a little background: the combination of disarray, chaos, clutter and need for maintenance on our home has been a source of much strife in my life. (Please click over to “My Husbands Crap” blog site and scroll down to earlier entries). I would get my hopes up that changes were coming, only to be let down again when something else took precedence. To be more accurate, my needs and desires were usurped.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick. (Proverbs 13:12.). I had been pleading for help in alleviating the source of stress for over four years only to be repeatedly ignored. I had taken to retreating to my bedroom as soon as I got home from work. My creativity and motivation had been sapped because of the helter-skelter. I was in counseling for a year.

( From a book by Peter Walsh a psychologist: Clutter denies us peace of mind: Time and again, the people I deal with attribute much of the conflict in their relationships or the sense of hopelessness in their lives to the clutter itself. . . . .I constantly see couples whose lives are torn apart from their arguments about disorganization. Many of these people also struggle with anxiety or depression.

From time to time the anger and frustration would drive me to try to do something about the situation. For example, I painted four rooms, including the 12 ft tall walls, without ANY help. Another time I got out my razor knife and started cutting up the carpet after coming home to its glaring filth one too many times. Then for months I lived with the bare sub-floor in the entryway.

Finally I could not take any more. I was moments away from taking desperate measures---then things changed. In an instant. As if I had awoken from a nightmare. I am in a state of disbelief!

My husband started working on cleaning up the clutter and finishing projects. And the momentum continues—not just half-starts. The most amazing thing that changed, however, was his attitude toward these issues. He worked willingly and with a genuine desire to accomplish the changes for which I had so desperately pleaded; and he did it without resentment. I am truly floored by the turn of events.

Whatever evil spirit was hovering over our home must have given up. The tenacity we displayed in hanging on in spite of shattered emotions must have worn down the efforts of that demon so he left. All I know is that when I look around in astonishment that my hopes have finally been realized, I am flooded with joy. My gratitude for prayers answered is overwhelming. I can’t speak of it without my voice faltering.

Now when my husband and I observe the results of our work: the clutter cleared and the messes cleaned up, the floors installed, the entry-way steps finished, the walls freshened with paint, the office organized, the tool shop finished and tools picked up, the garage cleared, the landscaping finished and our relationship restored we take pride in our accomplishments.

So here is what I’d like to say to the powers that tried to destroy me (to quote Steve McQueen from the movie Papillion):

“Hey you bastards, I'm still here”.

George Carlin, Clean Sweep & The Gospel of Luke

2007-05-26T10:11:00.000-04:00

George Carlin in his classic routine “A place for our stuff,” says “A house is just a place to keep your stuff while you go out and get more stuff”. He goes on to say that when you go up in a plane and look down, you see little piles of stuff everywhere.

To expand on George Carlin’s theme, if houses are just places for our stuff, then storage units are spawns of houses. We are out of control.

In the past three months I have filled THREE storage units: one for each of my two daughters and one for myself.

My youngest daughter is going into rehab and she had to give up her home. What a jumble of stuff I packed and moved using up weekends and evenings.

A week later my oldest daughter left a bad relationship with nowhere to go. She came to my house and we put her belongings in a separate storage unit.

Finally, I am getting new flooring in the entire main living quarters of my house and have to clear the floors (including closets) of EVERYTHING. I have been packing for the last three weeks, loading yet another storage unit.

I am weary of stuff. Some of the things have already been moved from place to place multiple times, showing scars from rough and tumble jostling, losing value with each move. We have never had proper storage in the first place, so that in itself has been a burden.

It doesn’t appear that my mother’s generation had such a problem. And what possessions they did have were well cared for, labeled and passed down to the children. (Plus, houses had attics).

Today with a Wal-Mart in every town and yard sales on every block things are so easily accessible that we over-accumulate. Since things are more plentiful, objects don’t hold as much value, to us or the next generation. They are just taking up space robbing us of peace of mind, instead of making our life easier.

Recently I read a book called “It’s All too Much” by Peter Walsh, host of the tv show A Clean Sweep. He says that clutter and having too much stuff can cause depression, suppression of creativity and even marital problems. Then why do we keep living this way when what I want is to have peace TODAY, not somewhere in the future? I might die not having rid myself of all this chaos when I could have simply let go and been more satisfied and less stressed; spending my time on more pleasurable or productive actives instead of moving and storing things.

Turning to a higher source I find this advice:

And he said to them, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”

And he told them a parable, saying, “The land of a rich man produced plentifully,
“and he thought to himself, ‘What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?’
“And he said, ‘I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods.
“‘And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’
“But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’

(Luke 12: 15-20 The Holy Bible, English Standard Version copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles)

When the time comes in the near future when my floors are done, I plan to cautiously move things back in from the storage unit. Any superfluous items will be cast away. My daughters will also not be allowed to use my house for a convenient place to stash their belongings while they live the life of the wayward.

I will no longer be a slave to stuff.

Wish me god speed.

The Hard Feeze

2007-04-21T19:17:00.000-04:00

Just as the crabapples, redbuds and dogwoods were budding and blooming, just as new plant life was pushing up through the ground, just as daffodils were at their prime and azaleas were about to open their buds, we had a late freeze that killed them all. The landscape looks dead at a time when it should be brimming with lush beauty.

Nature is a mirrow of my own spirit. Just as hope springs forth in my heart and I put on tender new growth, a “freeze” kills it. Hope lies dormant for a while, not trusting the climate. Then, shyly and cautiously, it peeks up through the darkness and begins anew. When the spirit is ready to open into full bloom, the cruel coldness of reality destroys it once again. This bi-polar world teases the emotions, keeping them in constant confusion.

Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over [and] gone;
The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing [of birds] is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines [with] the tender grape give a [good] smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. Sgs 2: 10-13

Some day . . . .

I'm a "Shoe In" for Most Absent Minded

2007-04-17T19:19:00.000-04:00

This past Sunday I attended church for the first time in awhile. As I walked from the parking lot to the church I noticed that the rubber sole was missing from the heel of one of my shoes. That seemed peculiar to me as I recalled those shoes had never HAD rubber soles, so why did one have a rubber sole now? When I took my seat, I looked down and much to my embarrassment, I noticed that I had on a shoe from two different pairs of shoes.

The sermon that morning had a two-fold message. Both "shoes fit."

We Prefer Purrs

2007-04-10T17:46:00.000-04:00

PEARL

Our new dog, Sparkle, had to go back to her original owner. She just never did learn to leave the cats alone. Other than that she was a great dog.

(Before I have people offering me training advise on how to get a dog to stop chasing cats, we tried it all, with the help of experts in dog training. Besides, we didn’t want the dog and the cats to just co-exist—we wanted them together in the house, living in peace).

Cats are our first love. Currently we have five, but have had as many as eight cats at one time. Three of our five felines stay in the house most of the time and sleep in our room at night. Pearl, the oldest female pats me on the face in the morning if I oversleep. That gesture has saved me from being late for work on occasion.

With the dog here the cats rarely came in the house and when they did, they had to hide under the bed. We missed our cats. They missed us. So Sparkle the dog went back. It was the right thing to do.

Immediately the cats came back in. I don’t know how they knew that quickly that the dog was gone, but they took up where they left off—curling up on the couch with us, and sleeping in our room. In fact what happened that first night made giving up the dog worth it all. Here is why:

Pearl hardly has a voice. When she meows it is a tiny squeak. When she purrs, you can barely hear it and can usually only detect a purr by feeling her body vibrate. That first night Pearl came to bed and got as close to me as she could. She started purring. The purr was so loud that we couldn’t believe it was our Pearl. Granted, the sound was more of a gurgle that a traditional purr, but there was no mistaken that she was happy and grateful. She had to put such power behind that purr to make that much sound come out of her near-mute vocal cords that we were very touched. Don’t tell me that cats don’t love their people

Pearls may not Sparkle, but they are precious.

Peaceful, Purring Cats—That’s what we Prefer.

The Great Stone

2007-04-08T10:50:00.000-04:00

My friend, Nolin Mom, posted that she struggled with her Christian faith. I think we all do. It is sometimes hard to square the resurrection with logic. But here is a thought that might help.

(For the sake of clarity and brevity I will not list all the references).

Many places the bible talks about stumbling. (The stone of stumbling and the rock of offense is how Jesus is described in one passage, Isa 8:14). Stumbling meant being offended, not merely getting one’s feelings hurt like we say today, but losing one’s faith. The word “Offend” comes from and old English word that means to cause someone to stumble by placing a stone or other stumbling block in his path. The bible gives grave warning to those who offend one of his little ones (John called us little children). Jesus said that their angels do always behold the face of His Father which is in heaven (Matt 18:10). This hints at angelic protection. (More on that later).

There are about four basis ways a person can stumble to the point of losing their faith. Through our intellect, our fear of suffering, greed and emotional attachments. All these human traits make us vulnerable to becoming offended. Someone may offer a plausible argument that appeals to our intellect that contradicts our faith. We may lose a child to death or have a loved one suffer great physical pain so that we start doubting God. We may have a desire for riches that overcomes our desire for God. Satan is always on the prowl devising ways to trip us up. So, what can keep us safe from these offenses?

Great peace have they which love thy law: and nothing shall offend them. Psalms 119:165.

Loving God’s law is equivalent loving all that Jesus stands for. If we love what Jesus represents, then we are promised that nothing will offend us. How? We have help.

He will give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. Psa 91:11. (A stumbling stone).

Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation? Hrb 1:14.

We have been told since childhood that we have guardian angels to protect us from physical harm. But aren’t spiritual accidents much more serious? The angels bear us up and “lift us over the stumbling stone” perhaps by us losing a good job, or having to leave a relationship, etc, all in order to steer us clear of offenses on our pathway to heaven.

Now why was Jesus described as the stone of stumbling and the rock of offense? One way to look at it is this: The Messiah was to never die. To those brought up under the Law of Moses, Jesus was an offense because he claimed to be Messiah yet hung helpless on a cross and died. (An intellectual offense). Even the few disciples who followed Jesus while he was walking on earth, were disheartened and down cast. All their hopes of a new kingdom were dashed because the man they put their trust in was now dead.
Not understanding Jesus’ words about dying and being raised again, the disciples went to the tomb, fully expecting to see the body there. They wondered, however, who would roll away the great stone that sealed the mouth of the tomb.

And, behold, there was a great earthquake; for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it (Mat.28.2).

What else can we make of the incident, except that an angel was instrumental in preventing the disciples from tripping over the fact of Jesus' death?

Jesus did not need the stone rolled away for himself. After all, he could walk through walls after the resurrection. The stone was rolled away for the benefit of the disciples, so that they could see that the actual body was resurrected. The moving of the stone gave the disciples a faith that they would die for.

So what about our own weak faith? The angels will continue rolling away stones to prevent us from stumbling over our own intellect.

(I want to give due credit to my father, the late Leo Jordan for having taught this to me and to beg pardon for shortening such a rich study into few words).

Bitterness Averted

2007-03-05T19:53:00.000-05:00

It has been a year since my youngest daughter was mercifully released on probation from the county distention center. She showed signs of wanting to start afresh and of wanting to live a better life. With that in mind, I helped her as much as I could, from paying an attorney so she could keep custody of her child to providing her with housing, to buying paint to brighten up the place, to moving furniture. I had already paid the attorney that got her sentenced reduced to probation. You get the picture. I did what any caring mother would do.

Finally it looked like I would get a little payback on the money. (See post for May 18, 2006). My daughter agreed to let me keep her income tax refund. I received the check and was breathing a sigh of relief thinking this was a reprieve. That same day another expense ensued and without hesitation I used that check again to help my daughter. On my way out the door that morning, I felt compelled to turn around and go back into my bedroom where I kept a little vintage prayer book. I looked up the day of the month (it is a perpetual calendar) and read that day’s prayer. My eyes fell on these words: O God, incline my heart to follow in this way: Jesus said, “Do good and lend hoping for nothing again.” (Luke 6:35) Those words strangely comforted me.

Nine months have gone by since that day. For some reason, again, out of the blue, I picked up that little prayer book and turned to the appropriate day of the month. I was taken aback when I read those very same words and realized it was the same day of the month as that day nine months ago. The first time I read those words, I was full of optimism because I felt that my generosity would pay off, not by collecting on debts owed me, but by my daughter becoming a productive citizen and a good mother. But the second time I read those words, the situation had come full circle: my daughter has not improved; she has gone the other way. She is a disgrace. She is an unfit mother. She has violated probation numerous times and it appears her time has run out. I feel like everything I have given her has been defiled.

Already discouraged, I was about to become bitter. Then I read those words again, "Do good and lend, hoping for nothing again". I guess “nothing” truly means “nothing”. Yet if you follow that passage of scripture a little further you will read, “Give and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over . . .(Luke 6:38). God is faithful. I will continue giving without bitterness, even if the payback is pending eternity.

An aside: My granddaughter is not in harms way. She has a very safe secure home with her father and she visits me every other weekend.

Double-entendre

2007-03-04T17:55:00.000-05:00

My husband wanted to use our digital camera but the memory was full. I told him to go ahead and delete the pictures that I had taken of the moon, as they had turned out black. He said, “I’m glad they aren’t pictures of MY moon." I said, “Yea, the pictures would be overexposed. "

I Have Sparkle in My Life

2007-03-02T19:20:00.000-05:00

Meet Sparkle.

All winter long I watched QVC and was mesmerized by the sparkling jewelry. Little did I know that my longing for jewels would be fulfilled in the form of a beautiful intelligent sweet German Shepherd Dog named Sparkle
(Now if the cats can adjust)!

I Have Plenty of What Makes a Home

2007-02-28T20:10:00.000-05:00

A home is not a home
Till there are book cases full of books
And cats to lie in the nooks.
You may have a table and a chair,
A vase of flowers for added flair.
Your pantry may be a treasure trove,
You may have supper simmering on the stove.
Maybe you have friends who make frequent calls,
And love and laughter echoing in your walls.
Still, a home is not a home
Till there are book cases full of books
And cats to lie in the nooks.
Jill Fox Deaton (Cylothymic Cister)

Having said that, I got a dog last week.

Reading the Classics

2007-02-25T06:53:00.000-05:00

Every time I read a passage of scripture (especially in the lofty language of the King James translation) I weep. It doesn’t matter what mood I’m in or what time of day it is or where I am, I well up. It is not because I’m sad—oh no—it is because I am overcome with such a flood of emotions: hope, joy, mercy, grace, purity, majesty, thankfulness, humility, love.

No other book has that effect on me and (and I’m no stranger to good literature). Yet scripture, the Bible, has the effect of being a “living word” quickening the spirit that is in me. My tears well up as I feel my spirit “leap in the womb.”

While composing this post a passage came to mind:

The law of the LORD is perfect, converting the soul:

the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple.

The statutes of the LORD are right, rejoicing the heart:

the commandment of the LORD is pure, enlightening the eyes.

The fear of the LORD is clean, enduring for ever:

the judgments of the LORD are true and righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold:

sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.

Moreover by them is thy servant warned: and in keeping of them there is great reward.

Psalm 19:7-11

I’m Indignant

2007-02-22T13:04:00.000-05:00

If I hear one more person my age say that we should let our teenager children have their fun and sow their wild oats, I am going to scream. They say, “Don’t you remember how we were at that age?”

First of all, just because one generation does something, does not justify behavior or make it acceptable for the next.

Besides, the world is different now. This is not “American Graffiti” or “Grease”. And at least the hippie’s had a cause. Today is different.

Don’t tell me we should let young people play. “Play” leads to drugs, shoplifting, porno, perversion, rape, pregnancy, disease, felonies, prison and/or death. Meth, brain damage, rotten teeth, babies being neglected and exposed to caustic chemicals. DUI’s, car accidents, manslaughter. Grandmother’s raising grandchildren. Grandchildren crying for absent parents. Financial depletion of loved ones and a burden on society. All for the sake of giving our children space to kick up their heels!

I know from experience. Take my word for it. Or why don’t you take a look at what your teenagers are writing in their letters to one another and in their diaries and on their blogs. It will shock even the most liberal parent. Don’t gasp at what I’ve just said and say, I trust my child and would never think of invading their privacy. Don’t be fooled. They are great manipulators and cons. We have an obligation to try to head them off before they slip into the pit. I would rather give them boundaries and put up with the resulting temper tantrums than to get a call in the middle of the night from the jail or the morgue. I wish I had put up with more tantrums.

"Lovely" Graffiti

2007-02-19T19:20:00.000-05:00

Graffiti on my fogged-up storm door.

The artist.

Those precious words were written by the finger of my 4-year old Granddaughter. I wish they were permanently etched on my door. Those memories fade too quickly.

Herbal Tea & Yoga verses Drugs & Alcohol

2007-02-17T13:05:00.000-05:00

In a conversation lately with my oldest daughter I told her that I thought I was going through pre-menopause. My mood swings seem to be more severe with an added element of desperation. She was trying to be sympathetic and offer solutions. First she suggested I look into hormone treatments, which I dismissed as “risky.” Then she said, “Well, why don’t’ you try herbal teas?”

I reminded her about the time she went to our family doctor seeking help for stress hoping to come away with a Xanax prescription. Instead the doctor recommended Yoga. My daughter called me saying, Dr. __ told me to do freaking YOGA!

So to the herbal tea suggestion I said, “Herbal freaking Tea! The only herbal brew I’m gonna drink in make from hops or rye.

She laughed and said, “I know. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Haunting Dreams

2007-02-14T18:30:00.000-05:00

My new blogging friend, Cardio Girl, has been mentioning her dreams of late. I’ve also been “blessed” with vivid dreams all of my life. Some of them are so vivid that I have haunting feelings the entire next day. This morning was one of those times

In my dream, I had just purchased a beautiful sorrel mare. She was mature and highly trained with an excellent temperament. When she arrived at my place, I let her run around in a paddock to stretch her legs.

The weather was very hot and the horse quickly worked up a lather. A friend that was visiting asked if he could hose her down to which I agreed. The friend also provided the horse with a bucket of water and she drank her fill.

Upon returning to the house the reality hit me that this horse was going to be a real delight. We had bonded immediately and with her training and temperament it was going to be a pleasure to go riding. So, I changed my shoes and went back out to the paddock to go riding. To my shock and dismay, the horse was dead.

I cried with body-jerking sobs. I cried with the same intensity intermittently for days. When I awoke I had a heavy sadness hanging over me. It has been haunting me all day.

Unfurling from the Fetal Position

2007-02-05T17:32:00.000-05:00

I’ve never been so lazy.

When I get home from work at 5:10 p.m. (I just live 2.8 miles from work), I get my pajamas on, make a quick supper (instant rice or something) and get in bed and watch TV and/or read. That is all I want to do. I look forward to it everyday. My mind tells me I should be doing something useful or visiting my elderly mother, but I can’t get past my desire for self-indulgence.

I have no children at home. My husband is working nights. Domestic choirs are minimal. So I just give in and retreat to my sanctuary.

It hasn’t always been like this. On any given year since, oh say 1986 (but who is counting), I have had drama on top of drama. Even recently (and on-going) my life has been plagued with drama. So it isn’t any wonder that I relish peace when it is available. (It is more like reverting back to the fetal position to block out the pain of life than it is self-indulgence, however). Still, I am rationalizing.

But now that the most depressing day of the year is past (Jan. 24) I am beginning to unfurl from the fetal position and start living again. I have to tell myself that it is ok to have a mixture of productive and non-productive days so that I won’t get overwhelmed. You see, being “cyclothymic” I tend to go from one extreme to the other—all or nothing.

So, this entry on my blog is a start. Wish me luck.

Diamonds Commercial

2006-11-22T17:46:00.000-05:00

Don’t you just love the Diamonds are Forever commercials (http://youtube.com/watch?v=gPODOUc8TRI) with the female vocalist singing the Cat Stevens song How Can I Tell You? I just had to find out who the artist is. It seems that the singer is Chan Marshall better known as Cat Power. Is anyone familiar with any of her recordings? I sampled some of her titles on line but would welcome recommendations.

Why Can’t We Just be Happy?

2006-11-19T08:03:00.000-05:00

There are only a few moments in my adult life that I remember being happy without any twinge of pain in my heart. Most of the time there is a mixture of pain and joy--the pain keeping me from total abdononment. Do other people feel this way I wondered? Then I read this article.

http://www.cnn.com/2006/HEALTH/
conditions/11/10/happiness.overview/index.html

Daniel Gilbert, Harvard psychologist and author of Stumbling on Happiness answered my question. He said, "People have a lot of bad theories about happiness."

The article also mentioned that people of all cultures experience happiness for the same reasons. In other words, we are all alike.

And “In general, the older you get the happier you get -- until you reach very old age. “

Nancy Segal, a professor at California State University, Fullerton, mentions the transcendent moments of joy.

Segal also said we “ . . . should find small things we can do every day that bring us joy, whether it's going for a walk or cooking a meal or reading a book."

To summarize my findings: we humans are all alike. Happiness is transcendent. It is the little things that make us happy. The older you get the happier you become until you die.

Hmmm. Here is the way I’d say it. We are all born with vague memories of our ancestors’ first home in the Garden. Throughout our life we are haunted by those bittersweet memories. We have an idea of what pure happiness should be but life doesn’t live up to that. Then as we get older and closer to death, we are again closer to Paradise.

C.S. Lewis in The Weight of Glory says it like this. “ We remain conscience of a desire which no natural happiness will satisfy."

". . . the mind and, still more, the body receives life from Him at a thousand removes—through our ancestors, through our food, through the elements. The faint, far-off results of those energies which God’s creative rapture implanted in matter when He made the worlds are what we now call physical pleasures . . .What would it be to taste at the fountainhead that stream of which even these lower reaches prove so intoxicating?”

“Meanwhile the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is Monday morning.”

Five things to Flesh out Characters

2006-11-18T07:37:00.000-05:00

I’ve been tagged by chica nuts (and she was tagged by stegbettle) to participate in this. We bloggers are to help provide writers with material to flesh out their characters by listing five things about ourselves that are not commonly known or that are kind of interesting, so here goes:

1. I have been married twice. Both men are named Rick. Both Ricks are the youngest of nine children. (That is where the similarities end).

2. I used to grow unusual vegetables in my garden, before it was popular. For example: blue corn. I ground it into cornmeal and made blue cornmeal muffins. Also, I grew horehound, an herb in the mint family, and came up with a recipe for horehound candy/cough drops. I sold the recipe through the classified ads in Herb Companion Magazine.

3. You’ve heard of the Mozart Effect? Well, I don’t know if it is scientifically proven but I know that I’ve been affected by Mozart. Though I grew up in an average middle class home, my father played Mozart on the stereo most of the time. I learned an appreciation for classical music at a very early age. Yet I still lived and still do live in a world where most people listen to contemporary pop, rock and country. I don’t fit in (though I keep that to myself). Nor do I fit in with the society that openly listens to classical music. I am caught between two classes. It gets kinda lonely. (I do have an eclectic taste in music; just not the “top 40’s” stuff).

4. A few years ago I had a “frozen shoulder” medically known as adhesive capsulitis. It came on slowly but boy did it hurt and restrict my daily activities. I had a cortisone injection and then physical therapy. Then an MRI. The surgeon, family doctor and physical therapist all agreed that I should have surgery (or at least manipulation under anesthesia: read: yank the crap out of my shoulder to break it loose). I was all set to have it done but decided to check out the Internet one more time. I stumbled onto a message board of people who had the same thing. Almost all said to NOT have any medical procedure done. They said give it 18 months to 2 years and the shoulder would get better on its own. So I told the doctors that I decided to do nothing. They were a little perturbed with me. But don’t you know, almost 18 months to the day, my shoulder thawed. No more pain, no more restricted movement.

5. Lately I’ve been smitten with QVC, especially the jewelry segment. I’ll watch it for hours. Yet I don’t wear much jewelry (just a my wedding set and a conservative pair of earrings). I don’t even have my nails done or have occasion to dress up. Still I am enamored by the sparkling diamonds and gemstones that Lisa offers on QVC. (Even the fake stuff). Well, I did collect rocks as a child. It must be an outcropping of my fondness for rocks—no pun intended.

Now I’m tagging aj today and tomorrow and fight for your mind.

As the World Turns

2006-11-02T19:35:00.000-05:00

I’ve been away from blogosphere for a while due to changes that have kept me pre-occupied. Here they are in a nutshell.

I changed jobs. It was kind of a fluke. I was mad at my redneck incompetent boss one day so on a whim I submitted my resume for a position that really sounded interesting. I got the job.

The job is hard. Very hard. But I am catching on and it is fun, the company is top notch and the people are happy and easy to be with. (more money, too). After two weeks I was required to go to Los Angeles for one week of orientation (read “wining and dining”).

We had a houseguest--the same week I started my new job (which took all my mental and physical energy). What a presumptuous jerk the guest turned out to be. And we had him in our home for two weeks!

My sister had a lung biopsy while I was in CA. She has a mysterious pulmonary illness which has the specialists stumped. World-renowned experts are trying to diagnosis it. (We are going to name the disease/syndrome after her).

My husband and I had our most intense, heated counseling session--on the second day of my new job when I was already drained and my mind in a fog.

But the strangest thing happened. The diversion of the unwelcome houseguest brought my husband and me closer. DH and I would go off in another room and whisper about how obnoxious the houseguest was being. We came to look forward to furtive talks. So, good can come out of almost anything.

Putting it Succinctly

2006-09-11T20:42:00.000-04:00

My oldest daughter lives in small rural community where she works at a local diner/ country store. One of the patrons there is handicapped (political correctness aside). He got hit in the head with a log when he was a young man, which affected his speech and rendered him partially paralyzed. My daughter says he is a very nice man and everyone loves him. The thing is, in addition to “yes” and “no” the only three words he can say are: sh_t, f__k, and d_mn.

You know, sometimes those are the only words you need.

One of the Chosen

2006-08-31T10:38:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I was privileged to be one of the 400 readers to be given an Advanced Reader Copy of Philip Yancey’s upcoming book. The book will be released in September. It is titled: Prayer, Does it Make Any Difference?

I just finished reading it and taking the survey for the Yancey team.

All of Philip Yancey’s books are worth reading—again and again. He, like most of us, has doubts but is not afraid to make his doubts public. From that premise, mixed with faith, he unravels deep and troubling questions regarding Christian theology. I always come away feeling encouraged and enlightened.

Here are a few titles:

The Jesus I Never Knew
The Bible Jesus Read
What’s So Amazing About Grace?
Where is God When it Hurts?
Reaching for the Invisible God
Rumors of Another World
Church, Why Bother?
Soul Survivor
Disappointed With God
Fearfully and Wonderfully Made (co-authored with Dr. Paul Brand)

If you haven’t discovered this author, please give him a try.
http://www3.zondervan.com/features/authors/yanceyp/

The "Melt Down"

2006-08-25T19:31:00.000-04:00

A shift in climate has occurred. The iceberg has melted.

I would like to say that with a reverberating crash it fell into the sea of forgetfulness. But it was more like a slow melt. The measured, forceful movement caused rocks and dirt to be pushed to the surface, leaving deep craters. Gradual trickles filled the scarred earth with still waters—somewhat cool for now, but placid.

(Seventy times seven? Yes, and then some).

The First Cut is the Deepest

2006-08-19T03:38:00.000-04:00

A heart wrenching disappointment is facing me. This has caused me to reflect back on the major times of suffering in my life. The first time (not counting when I was fourteen and my dad sold my horse), was when my first husband betrayed me on many different levels. I was innocent and undefiled when it came to such matters. The wound went deep.

Then just as my situation was improving, (though I was still raw from my first wound), my oldest daughter turned on me and everything that was wholesome. Her actions and lifestyle were deplorable. I lay prostrate on the floor crying my heart out when I first realized the extent of it.

Shortly thereafter, I went through a divorce. You don’t come out of a divorce unscathed.

A more recent heartache involved my youngest daughter and her child (my precious granddaughter). It was such a sorrowful situation. I grieved, mourned, wept and prayed; yet I carried on as though the world depended on me.

The difference between the first hurt and the hurts thereafter is just that. You carry on. You begin taking things in stride. Your dismay lessens with every stab.

Now I am facing another crisis. It is marital in nature. Still, I will carry on. I will not be dismayed. The power people have over me to cause grief is not so great anymore. The first cut is the deepest. After that, the scar tissue is tough and thick and the knife cannot cut as keenly.

Christian Hunter—Oxymoron?

2006-08-16T23:20:00.000-04:00

Today I got behind a very nice pickup truck that had REAL MEN LOVE JESUS on the tailgate printed in big letters. Also, attached to the bumper in the sitting position, was an animated deer with a bull’s-eye on its chest. Somehow those two images just don’t go together.

(Before I get hate messages: I'm not saying that Christians shouldn't hunt. I'm just saying the too images clash when displayed at the same time).

Keep it Under Wraps

2006-08-15T20:03:00.000-04:00

At work today we had a discussion about how JC Penney department store has a perpetual BIG SALE. I commented rather jokingly that the only sales I liked are when Penney’s gives out huge chocolate bars as you enter. Inside the wrapper you’ll find the percentage of discount you get off the merchandise that day. Some are greater discounts than others.

Well, my co-worked said that she grabs about five candy bars and discreetly opens them all to find the biggest discount offer.

I must be naive, but I NEVER take more than one candy bar. It has never even occurred to me to do so. Am I a prude? Or am I just missing out on extra chocolate and bigger discounts?

Two Pound Tomato

2006-08-14T18:47:00.000-04:00

Two Pound German Queen Heirloom tomato from my garden. This variety tastes great too.

Publishing Rights

2006-08-02T21:22:00.000-04:00

Since I would like to write for publication again someday (and get paid for it), I wondered if entries published on a personal blog might be considered “published”, or “previously published”, thus jeopardizing the sell of “first rights”.

I did a little Internet research and found this:

http://www.flickr.com/groups/35468156202@N01/discuss/41469/

So, it turns out I was right to be concerned. There were a few ideas I had considered posting, that could develop into lengthier essays that may have potential elsewhere, but I waited until I did the above research. Now I'm glad I waited.

Just thought some of you writers out there would like to know, if you didn't already.

Esther Got Busted

2006-07-21T07:05:00.000-04:00

Parking Ticket Fiasco

2006-07-19T14:56:00.000-04:00

A notice came in the mail saying that I needed to pay a parking ticket. Payment was to be made within 10 days, payable to The City Police Department. I made out a check, put it in an envelope and addressed the envelope to said City Police Dept., using the address that was on the notice.

WTF, the payment came back to me as undeliverable. It seems the forwarding address service has expired. What? Doesn’t the Police Dept. have the courtesy to put their new address on the notices, especially if they expect payment within a certain time? The City spent gobs of money on the new police dept. facility, so you would think they could spring for some updated forms with the correct address.

And to the Postal Service: the police department moved two doors down on the same street. Is it too difficult to figure out where the mail is supposed to go???

So, I went to the Police Department in person, wielding my envelope marked “return to sender”. Through three panes of plate glass, I explained my situation. The lady behind the glass said, “Just a minute, I’ll call the meter clerk.” She was on the phone for a moment, and then said, “Mr. Van Meter will be with you shortly.” Van Meter?? Did you just make that up??

Anyway, I explained to the lady behind the glass that all I wanted to say was that the address should have been correct on the form.

She said, “We’ve moved.”

“I realize that,” I said, as I was standing in the middle of the lobby in the NEW BUILDING just down the street from the old building.

“The address should have been CHANGED on the form,” I explained.

She said that she was surprised, because Mr. Van Meter usually does change it on the form. So I opened the envelope to take a look, (I had enclosed the original notice). Sure enough in 4 pt font, the mail-to address was there, and in just as small handwriting the street number was crossed out and the correct one written in.

But at the bottom of the form, in bold 14 pt font was the OLD Police Department address. For those of us who need reading glasses, we aren’t going to look for the 4pt font we are naturally going to see the big bold address. My point is, they should have gotten new forms to go along with their fancy smacy new facility. (Don’t get me wrong, I respect and support our law enforcement, local and national. This was just small town stupidity).

I handed the lady the envelope with my payment and asked if she could just give it to Mr. Van Meter. She said, “Yes,” with a smile on her face.

No wonder she is behind three panes of plate glass.

Pippy is Missing

2006-07-16T09:39:00.000-04:00

My cat Pippy has been missing for three days. Please come home Pippy. I miss you. Besides, how can I tell her?

Good Lighting

2006-07-14T18:03:00.000-04:00

This week at work I noticed that I had a nice color to my complexion. My skin looked healthy and vibrant. I thought that all the physical work I’ve been doing lately reversed the aging process. Then I realized that the florescent light was burnt out in the office bathroom.

Curb Appeal Doesn't Come Easy

2006-07-11T17:36:00.000-04:00

My husband and I have been working every weekend for a couple of months in 90 degree weather with humidity at 239%, to get our rental property ready to sell by painting, building a deck, finishing a tool shed, installing appliances, etc. Here are some specifics:

I have sweated off 10 lbs.

We purchased furniture in kits to put in the house to stage it for showing. If you can put a piece on backwards—or upside down-- my husband and I did it . . . every time, at every stage of the process. We were giddy about having one piece almost finished. The final stage: sliding the drawer into place. But what the hell, the drawer slides were at the top instead of the bottom. We had to take every last piece apart to fix it. Now that we are experts at putting together furniture and tightening cam locks, we’ll probably never use that skill again.

Working side by side with my husband doing things that HE is good at caused me to see him with eyes of admiration. He seemed to be indefatigable as he worked to get things accomplished, tasks that would cause weaker individuals to give up. In truth, though, we were both exhausted but we pressed on, building rapport with every nail we drove, and every board we cut. I guess it is kind of like the rapport built by military units. We marched on claiming ground as we went. On the 4th of July, we hung an American Flag on the front porch of the house and put a “For Sale” sign in the front yard. I think we won the battle. I know we won one for the relationship. My respect for my spouse grew to new heights.

Remember I said we were exhausted? We went home and fell asleep right after dinner. The next morning my husband discovered that he had left the garage door open (not just unlocked, but wide open) and the door from the garage to the house wide open (again not just unlocked, but open). The neighbor’s tomcat was standing the middle of the kitchen. The smell of cat spray permeated the entire house. Oh well, just another thing. But the neighbors shouldn’t be surprised when their cat mysteriously comes up neutered.

Prettier than any Flower

2006-07-09T08:59:00.000-04:00

My Granddaughter.

Flowers at my House

2006-07-09T08:52:00.000-04:00

Why God Made Little Girls

2006-06-18T09:04:00.000-04:00

My father had four girls. To hear him tell it, he wouldn't have had it any other way. In honor of my father on Father's Day, here is a poem he was fond of:

Why God Made Little Girls

God made the world with its towering trees,
majestic mountains and restless seas.

Then paused and said,
"It needs one more thing,someone to laugh and dance and sing.

To walk in the woods and gather flowers,
to commune with nature in quiet hours."

So God made little girls,with laughing eyes and bouncing curls.
With joyful hearts and infectious smiles,
enchanting ways and feminine wiles.

And when He completed the task He'd begun,
he was pleased and proud of the job He'd done.

For the world, when seen through a little girl's eyes,
greatly resembles Paradise.

(author unknown)

Happy Father's Day from us Girls!

The Four Cisters

2006-06-18T08:50:00.000-04:00

Children’s Pajamas—not Victoria’s Secret

2006-06-14T12:50:00.000-04:00

At Wal-Mart I was looking to buy some new pajamas for my four-year old granddaughter. I came across a pair that had a picture of fruit on the front and the words “Fresh, Sweet and Juicy”. Is my mind in the gutter, or does that sound pornographic? I won’t have my precious innocent granddaughter wearing anything that suggestive.

Man Purses and Annoying Noises

2006-06-12T07:36:00.000-04:00

My husband and I have a rental house that we are getting ready to sell. It is about 20 miles away. We loaded up his one-ton truck and trailer with necessary tools, paint, lawn equipment, etc. on Sataurday to do work on the property. When we got there, my husband said, “You’re gonna kill me. I left the keys at home.”

That proves my sister’s point that MEN SHOULD CARRY PURSES.

Read her comment to me via email when I asked for comments on purses:

My biggest peeve about purses is why the hell don't men carry them? My husband is always misplacing his stuff. Today he went to work and forgot his (security) pass. This is not good. When he comes home at the end of the day his car keys end up one place, wallet in another, cell phone who knows where, and his badge usually still attached to his work shirt. Damn men are stupid too!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dear Husband drove all the way back home to get the keys.

While he was gone, I did some exterior painting. All the while a bulldozer was in operation next door. Every few seconds it would back up making that annoying beep, beep, beep sound. That noise invaded my every thought. I was cursing with every other brush stroke. Finally I started singing, “I’ve got peace like a river,” thinking that would help. It didn’t.

Just as I was finished painting, the bulldozer stopped. By then husband arrived back with the keys so I went inside to paint the bathroom.

The toilet leaks. So every few seconds the toilet made a swish sound. Why can’t I get away from annoying freaking noises?!?!

Then dear husband comes in and says, “You know the dozer next door? The man operating it said he would make a pass down our driveway to widen it and to refresh the gravel. Isn’t that great? I was gonna have to rent a dozer that would cost me a fortune.”

“How much is he going to charge?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but it will be worth it. But I don’t have a check book or anything with me,” he said.

“I do. I carry a purse.”

Free Spirit

2006-06-11T07:34:00.000-04:00

Today is Dad’s birthday. He passed away six years ago. It may be odd that I speak of his death on the day we celebrate his birth, but you’ll understand after you read this.

Dad had a love of truth that goes unmatched. He deserved to be honored and revered as we grieved his passing, but instead he was upstaged, even in death, by a scandal.

The funeral director got arrested on the day of Dad’s funeral. He had swindled people out of their pre-paid funeral investments. My mother was one of those whom he swindled. Still the funeral director paid for Dad’s funeral, though my mother lost lots more money than would have covered the funeral.

Even though his arrest was forthcoming, the funeral director still prepared my father for viewing. (He did a very good job, I might add. Dad had on his trademark half-smile which looked as though he were privy to a secret delight).

Still, things were not up to par. There was no one to do the “in memory of” pamphlet to hand out to the visitors. So I did it. I think it turned out better that way. After all, who knows a father better than his children?

I chose to include a portion of a poem that Dad composed in 1966.

A Prayer

I do not ask for forgiveness for unbelief,
But enlightenment.
Rather, forgive me for all grief
I have caused, for each wrong intent.

If, while I sleep,
When the last starry furnace
In the last great wheeling arc
On the rim of space
Has grown cold and dark
And dead;

If I have found grace
And of me it is said,
“He abhorred the lie but embraced truth
And all loveliness;
Now, therefore, he has found immortal youth
And blessedness,”

I shall be forever grateful.

C.L. Jordan

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My sister and I spoke at the funeral. In addition to the fond memories of his humor, his intellect, his generosity, I spoke of watching Dad die. I wondered why dying seemed so laborious? Dad’s breathing got more and more shallow as he struggled harder and harder with each breath. We knew it would be a matter of minutes before he quit breathing altogether. And dad was ready to go. So why did it seem to be such a hard task to leave this life? Why did it seem so hard for the soul to be freed from the body? Then it occurred to me: it is like giving birth. When a baby is passing through the birth canal, the woman’s body labors in pain to help the process along. So it seemed with Dad. His spirit was passing through the “birth canal” from this life to the next and the womb of his body was painfully laboring to help it along. When Dad’s spirit finally was freed from his body and the cord of this life was cut, it wasn't a death, it was a birth. The birth of the spirit. Dad was finally free as the wind.

Don't Shift the Focus

2006-06-07T19:53:00.000-04:00

Just because I’m moody does not mean that you don’t make me crazy, Dear Husband. You are a kind man, and you are very good to me (and our six cats) in many ways. But your clutter and inability to throw away trash still gets to me. You think it is me, because when I am in a certain mood, I bring it up. When I am in another mood, I tolerate it and don’t mention it. But that does not mean that the messes don’t still bother me! Read the title of my blog: Cyclothymic. Let me elaborate. When in the “up” phase of the cycle, it is as if a veil is removed and I suddenly see all that is lovely and beautiful. I become optimistic and energetic and creative. The energy makes me think I can conquer all problems. However, I am still aware of the problems, including your lack or organizational skills when it comes to your clutter.

When in the “down” phase of the cycle, darkness sweeps over my vision and a different veil is removed. Now I can see all that is disappointing, sad, and melancholic. In fact, I seem to recall everything I ever did that caused pain or regret. I seem to recall all that is bitter-sweet, happy memories that can never be again. Grief and Anger prevail. Immediate problems seem insurmountable. And maybe many of the problems are. That becomes my main focus.

Now just because these moods are on different ends of the spectrum does not mean the truth is not there. Both ways of seeing life are reality and truth. Too bad the insights don’t overlay one another so that I’m not pulled from one end to the other.

Having said all of that, Dear Husband, just because I am like that, doesn’t mean that your passive-aggressive personality isn’t a problem. You’ve got your own demons to fight. You don’t want to cause conflict or sound like the bad guy, so you say all the right things but your actions don’t match your words (sometimes). You make promises that you don’t keep. You promise to clean up messes and get organized in order to prevent new messes but you don’t. So when I mention other things that are bothering me (not related to you), don’t think that the other stressors in my life are making me overly sensitive to the problems you cause. When I’m depressed over something else, do not use that for an excuse to think that is why I am picking on you. Your behavior really is part of the problem.

One more thing: words mean something. I listen carefully to your words. I base my assumptions, my hopes, even our relationship on what you say. I take it to be the truth. Then when the reality of the situation tells me something different than your words told me, I feel confused. That is why I am in counseling--that and all the clutter.

Thank you fellow bloggers out there, if you read this. I feel much better having gotten this off my chest.

PS. By the way, my husband is a very good husband. We just have issues from time to time.

Do Cats Smile?

2006-05-30T18:34:00.000-04:00

Do cats smile? My 4-year old granddaughter thinks so. She was visiting this past weekend, and she said, "Pippy smiled at me."

What is the Perfect Purse?

2006-05-26T06:35:00.000-04:00

Years ago I belonged to a writers group (It has been about 10 or 12 years since I last attended). Last week I ran into an old friend from the group. As it turns out, the group still meets at the same time and same place. My friend encouraged me to come to the next meeting. So Tue. night I went. As this friend was introducing me to the new members, she mentioned a humorous how-to article that I had written way back when. It was titled, “How to Purchase the Perfect Purse.” She commented that she never buys a purse without thinking about that article.

Just as we were about to adjourn, the moderator, who had been hindered from getting there on time, showed up. (She has been the moderator all these years, a retired English professor). At the end of our meeting she came up to me with all seriousness. I thought she was going to ask about my elderly mother or something equally as weighty. I was caught off guard when she pointed to my purse and said, “Your purse has two straps.” You see, that was one of the things to avoid when picking out a purse.

This moderator did not know of the previous comments about the purse article. But evidently the “perfect purse” piece had stuck in her mind, as well. It appears that I should pull that article out of the archives and solicit it.

By the way, do you have your own criteria for picking out a purse?

Complicated Lunch

2006-05-19T16:15:00.000-04:00

I had a microwaveable meal for lunch today. I thought it would be quick and easy. After all, I had other things to do for lunch besides eat. But noooooo. . . First you have to peel back film over the vegetables. Keep the rest of the meal covered with film but poke holes in it. Then cook three minutes, then turn the meat and stir the potatoes. Cook three more minutes. Then poke vent in the gravy packet and place on top of the original film on the meal and cook another three minutes. Then uncover, then recover, then stir and turn and rotate, taste test, put back in for 35 seconds. Then let sit for two minutes. Then put ice cube in tray to cool enough to eat so you won't be late getting back to work.

First Bank of Mom--Eternally Insured

2006-05-18T16:09:00.000-04:00

Finally the sun is shining. For the past week and a half we have been under heavy grey skies and lots of rain. I felt like I was in the Artic Circle: it was never really daylight which meant I could never quite wake up. But the sluggishness is gone today.

My youngest daughter has been struggling with life's problems. I have been trying to help her get back on her feet, morally and financially, which has really put a strain on my bank account. To help pay off some of her debt my daughter agreed to give me her tax refund check.

Well, the check arrived in the mail yesterday. I casually put it in my purse, intending to deposit it. I let out a sigh of relief, knowing that I could recoup a little of the money I had so freely doled out.

This morning my daughter informed me of more issues for which she still needed money. (Now these are legitimate problems, albeit she got in this situation due to her own poor choices). I thought about the check in my purse. Without hesitation I took it out and handed it to her and then headed out the door to work.

On the way out the door, I got something in my contact lens and had to go back in. Once I cleared up the eye problem, I decided to do something that I hadn't done in awhile.

You see, I buy books. All genres and authors, old and new. Several months ago I acquired a book of prayers, copyright 1948. There is a prayer for each day of the month, morning and evening. Now, mind you, these are not prayers like you see today, asking for prosperity or the "what can God do for me" type prayers. These prayers are earnestly imploring God to help us align with the character of Christ.

I had not picked up that little book in quite some time, but I felt compelled to do so this morning. I turned to the prayer for the morning of the 18th day of the month. Tucked right in the middle of the prayer was this: Help me to: ". . . lend, hoping for nothing again; (Luk 6:35).

*edit: It sounds like my daughter asked for money or at least hinted for it. That is not the case. She did not even know I had the tax check. She was simple talking about what the next steps were in getting her place ready to move in: utility deposits, that sort of thing. I volunteered to give her the money. It must have taken her aback because my other daughter told me that her sister was really surprised that I gave her the check and that I must want her out of the house. No, I don't want her out, (necessarily). I just care about her emotional wellbeing. Period.

Ants at Work (Worker Ants)

2006-05-11T14:04:00.000-04:00

We had an ant problem in our office. Trails of the little things were leading to the vending machine. Today a fellow employee went out and purchased some liquid ant killer, the kind you place on little round pieces of cardboard. It worked within minutes. The ants were all over that stuff. The instructions say that the worker ants will eat it, but not die immediately. They will live long enough to carry poison to the others in the colony. (Those last two sentences were just an FYI)

What I found to be humorous were all the varieties of ants that were listed among the sweet eating varieties:

ATTRACTS AND KILLS COMMON HOUSEHOLD ANTS INCLUDING:

Argentine ants (do they dance the Tango?), Ghost ants (the ones that come back to haunt you AFTER they eat the poison), Cornfield ants (they talk with a twang), Pavement ants (these must be a product of evolution), Acrobat ants (I just thought they were carrying their dead), White footed ants (these are the pavement ants, one more step up the evolutionary ladder. They burnt their feet crossing the hot pavement and now wear little white sneakers), Little black ants (until now, I thought they were ALL little black ants), Odorous house ants (seriously, I smashed an ant that was crawling up my arm and it stunk!), Crazy ants (the ones who think they can eat out of OUR vending machine), Big headed ants (what would make an ant big headed? Bragging about how it can lift 10 times it weight in sweets? ), and other sweet eating ants.

*edit: I added a couple more descriptions.

Signs of Entrance

2006-05-04T10:33:00.000-04:00

Driving to work the other day I saw a sign posted in the parking lot of a business that read,
"Semi Entrance." Does that mean you can only enter part of the way?

At the airport one time I saw a sign that said, "Terminal Entrance." Does that mean you can never exit??

But seriously folks, I have seen signs that make me know that I am on a downward slope. My high is waning. The main culprit: my husband and his perpetual messes. And he does not see how serious it is and how my very sense of wellbeing is affected.

So, I'm signing off for now. I can't decide whether I should semi exit the marriage until the issues are resolved or if I am terminally stuck in it with all it's messes.

What Inspired this Site

2006-05-02T17:36:00.000-04:00

My husband leaves his tools out. It is a pet peeve of mine and I mention it to him from time to time. Especially when I am gardening and the shovel I'm using has a splintered handle from being left outside. In desperate need of support in this matter, I googled, "Husband leaves tools out." In the first ten hits was listed a blog site called "My Husband's Crap." I read through it and clicked on the contributors' blogs. I was inspired and amused and impressed. (You must know, however, that these folks are not man bashers). So I started this site--and joined " My Husband's Crap" as a contributor. You'll find the link listed on the sidebar.

The Love of My Life

2006-04-29T09:22:00.000-04:00

My granddaughter is visiting this weekend. I love her more than life.

Praise me if I Please You

2006-04-27T18:05:00.000-04:00

If I think I am pleasing you, I will work my heart out. In fact, I will try that much harder to do a good job. Employers should understand that concept. Husbands should understand that concept. To illustrate just how responsive I am to praise let me share a little anecdote. A few months ago I had to have an MRI of my shoulder. The assistant told me to hold very still and then he place head phones on my head, turned on the conveyor and off I went into the tunnel. Periodically, his voice would break in over the music and he would tell me how good I was doing. Intellectually I knew that was what he tells EVERY patient. Intellectually I knew that he was simply practicing good "bedside manner." But my emotions were telling me, "yea. I am doing good. I am holding so still. In fact, I will hold my breath so I can be even more still. They will really think I'm a good patient then. They will really get good images of my shoulder." Isn't that silly??

Now to relate that to my marriage. I am on my second marriage. My first marriage lasted 20 years and I gained a lot of experience on how to be a good spouse. So, I was excited about putting into practice all those attributes with my second marriage. Boy was I gonna make my new husband proud!

As time went on, however, it became painfully apparent that my new husband didn't take notice of all these things. He told me that he loved me whether I did anything or not. That confuses me. I guess he could have married anyone and been happy.

I kinda feel displaced. My talents seem to be a waste now. Isn't that ironic, that the very thing I long for is to know that I'm pleasing someone and I don't get a word from my husband.

Know as we are known

2006-04-27T17:36:00.000-04:00

It is nice to be on the up side of a "high" mood, especially after spending about three weeks in the deepest grief, rage and despair that I've felt for a long time. Those extreme emotions were tangibly pulsing through my blood stream. It hurt so bad that it felt good, in a cleansing sort of way. Anyway, one of the things that I was grieving about is that I don't think my husband really knows me. I mean, he never comments on what I do, or don't do. (We'll get back to that thought in a moment--it is more of the problem of wanting praise). So one day I pleaded with him to tell me who I am, to tell me something about the deepest part of my soul that only a spouse would or could know. He couldn't. I was crushed.

So I started thinking, "why is it so important to us humans to be intimately known by someone else?" It must be important to God, because we read that " . . . now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. (I Cr. 1:12). That was a comforting thought, that the God of all the earth already knows me intimately. (But still that doesn't excuse a spouse from knowing you or take the place of being understood).

Anyway, on with my point. That same week we ran into an old friend of mine who invited me (and my husband) to "Friends Day" at his church that Sunday. The message just happened to be about how God knows us intimately. Wow.

The Third Sister out of Four Girls--no Brothers

2006-04-26T21:42:00.000-04:00

This is me many years ago. I am third of four girls. That is where the "Cister" thing comes in. More about my sisters in the future.

What is cyclothymia?

2006-04-26T20:45:00.000-04:00

First of all, I have not been clinically diagnosed with cyclotyhmia. I stumbled across this personality type when I was looking up my husband's personality traits (who has a different PType altogether). When I read about cyclothymia I recognized myself. I got excited to find out that there was actually a name for what I go through. Moods changing from hypomania to mild depression, each lasting only a few days with normal periods in between. I just thought I couldn't stay "up" for very long and I was always trying to analize why. Now I know that it is nothing external, really. It was also encouraging to find out that, since I never go to severe extremes, then it is not full blown bi-polar disease.

I must be in the hypomania phase right now, because I started this blog. I went from knowing nothing about blogging a couple of days ago, to wanting to learn HTML and create my own template. Words started flowing and I feel I must write.

I plan to provide links to sites that define hypomania, cyclothymia, depression, etc. One more encouraging discovery. The positive side of the Cylothymic personality is the Artistic Personality (according to one source). More on all this later.

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One thing about myself that I found troubling is that I crave praise. I thrive on praise. Today I was thinking about how disgusting it is to want my ego stroked. But then it hit me, "I don't want my ego stroked. I want to please you." When I am praised by someone, then I know that I have pleased them and that was my goal all along. Now I feel much better about myself.