Rack'em up, knock'em down

"We live in a take-down culture. And it's not just about proving them wrong, you also have to have more fun than them." - Taylor Swift

Like her music or not, the kid makes a crucially valid point. It isn't enough for someone to succeed. Their every flaw, mistake, and even any awkward move must be picked apart, until their accomplishments pale in comparison to their missteps.

Is it any wonder so many people feel unworthy of their own breath?

I used to squirm ashamedly beneath the weight of the ugly words and the cold stares, and when it got to be too much I'd have to find some hiding place. I'd escape to a new neighborhood, a new town, or a new love. I'd drown in the distractions until the memories drifted to the surface to gasp for air, and then I'd float away again on my sailboat made of anchors.

It never got worse, because really, nothing is ever worse than the faded cries of lost little hearts. Oh, my heart, with the cracks that only got deeper by the day. The nights I would allow the crevices to rip another chunk of my soul from my chest, lying on the floor in a pile of agony, begging and pleading to a God I didn't believe could possibly believe in me anymore. And then the tears would dry, but the soul never truly healed. Lungs can't breathe oxygen from a vacuum, and dead things can't be healed.

I didn't want to heal.

I wanted to be shredded to ribbons by white-hot knives, feeling every millisecond of the searing pain, just as I'd heard in that trembling, small voice on the phone. I wanted the pain to swallow me whole, and to never feel the breath of hope whispering in my ear. I didn't deserve it. I deserved the empty, cavernous void I'd built myself.

Except that sometimes I wanted out.

So I'd climb, but only halfheartedly believing the chains would break. Then the tug. I'd look down and see the shackles, and instead of putting up a fight, I'd convince myself it would be best to let them be. The chains were stronger, looping through the iron rings of self-hatred, embedded in crumbling concrete walls that dripped with desolation.

Little lights would shine, but when the flames were weak they'd only blow out and their wicks disintegrated, destroying the hope of ever being re-lit. When the flames were strong, they'd light the way for a little while, providing some warmth. Eventually, though, toxic flames will singe and burn and leave scars. So for a while, I began to try to grow in the dim light drifting through the cracks around the door. But few flowers bloom at twilight.

What I hadn't expected was that the roof would be so permeable. It began as something to pass the time: I'd poke a few holes, and a few stars would shine happen to shine through. Those few twinkles of light would encourage me to poke a few more. Soon, a skylight. Not long afterward, the roof began to crumble, and those small little voices were in my ears again. Only now they're not small anymore. And they're the music of angels in my ears.

Sometimes I'm afraid of being buried under the weight of falling debris of wasted past memories. Sometimes the scrape my cheek, or graze my side. But though the cell is still there, it's at least as big as an amphitheater, with a clear view of the sky all around. I suspect I'll climb out eventually, once I've rebuilt the steps to the door.

But outside the door, that's where the light truly changes, and the trees take over the crumbling paths with thirsty roots and fill the sky with shimmering leaves that reflect the sun.

Becoming the Rib

As I was on my way home from work and the grocery store today, I heard an amazing interview on the radio.  The show was on the Q90fm (90.1 in Appleton/Green Bay) Naomi's Table show.  It truly inspired me to stop and think about how we as women view men and relationships.  It also validated a conversation I had yesterday with another truly amazing and strong woman who has helped me immensely, whether she is aware of it or not.

I am a strong woman.  I have the tendency to crumble under high amounts of stress, which leads to panic attacks and sometimes even tears, but I am highly independent.  Throughout my relationships, one theme has resurfaced over and over again:  I hate relinquishing control over myself and my home.  I would very much prefer to do everything myself.  Men have a strong desire - no, need - to be providers and protectors within their families and relationships.  They want to fix everything.  Men need to know their purpose as a strong, solid rock within a relationship.  It's a woman's role to nurture and protect this within him.

Biblically, a woman is to be submissive. I'm not talking about cowering in the corner and obeying his every command.  For a very long time, that's exactly how I saw that Biblical view.  Part of it has been my own personal experiences, but there is a big difference between survivor and victim.  I took the definition of survivor to an extreme.  It was the means to my survival to be so strong and in control of everything.  

It was a good thing to take these last two years off and remain intentionally single.  It was good for my heart, for my mind, and for my own healing.  It has been good for my children, they've needed this time.  I needed to be in control and strong to defeat the doormat syndrome I'd held for far too long.  It has been a means of finding my heart, healing the scars, and moving on to a healthier, more stable life.  I have chased dreams and accomplished goals I never thought I'd actually achieve.  Though I still have far to go, I feel successful.

There is a time for everything, though, and the time has come for me to relinquish at least some of that control.  I will always be independent and strong.  I will always have my sense of self.  It's simply time to be womanly again - and I now understand that to be womanly does not mean being weak.

The interview on the radio show today was about the relationships between men and women.  One of the points that really hit home was about woman coming from man's rib.  Not from the head, to lord over him, not from his foot to be walked on.  From his rib.  Why the rib?  The rib is a strong, but flexible bone.  The rib's function is to protect the heart and lungs. 
So how does this correlate to our relationships as women?

It is a woman's job to protect a man's heart.  I'm not just talking about the wishy-washy function of the emotional heart.  The physical heart pumps blood, which is one of the basic essentials for human life.  The stronger our blood, the stronger we function.  We strengthen our relationships with our womanly capacity to nurture.  A woman's strengths lie in compassion and understanding.  We're sensitive to everything around us, to the emotions of others, as well as our own.  We need to be in touch with those abilities, and to work with them to nurture our relationships.  

The ribs also protect the lungs.  Our lungs re-oxygenate our blood.  We breathe in cleaner air, and exhale what isn't useful.  Woman, with her capacity for compassionate understanding,  have the ability to be the voice of reason.  Men are typically action-oriented. They fix things.  Women who take control are also taking away some of that vitality from a man, by not allowing them to function fully in their roles as protectors and managers in relationships and in life in general.

The woman being interviewed (I wish I would have heard the beginning, or at least a name, so I could give her proper credit) spoke of relationships as a garden.  Gardeners know to prune unwieldy, wildly-growing plants.  The parts that are pruned are called "suckers" - literally sucking the life out of the rest of the plant.  We need to prune ourselves, as well.  We need to remove some of those untamed parts of us which keep us from growing stronger and more beautiful.  Pruning isn't always pretty.  We're sometimes left barren, feeling ugly and raw.  That's exactly where we need to be.  We need to cut off all that excess and return to the person we're intended to be.  We need to grow from those unruly life-suckers and become stronger, more full and well-developed human beings.

Over the past month, that's exactly where I've been.  I've been pruning.  It's sometimes been ugly, and sometimes very raw.  It's also been a beautiful growing and learning experience.  It's been about finding myself, truly and meaningfully, and growing into someone better and more fully developed.


view blog reactions | tags: life

I'd like a great big scoop of possibilities. In a waffle cone, please.

Isn't it wonderful when an unexpected possibility enters into your life? One of those crazy dreams suddenly becomes a reality, out of nowhere.

I've wanted to advocate for others for so long. So I waited for the right time to come around.  What my
Start group has taught me, though, is that "someday" never just happens on its own.  You have to make your someday now.

I began making my someday a reality early last month, and it was more well-received than I'd imagined.
Next week I meet with a board of very interested and enthusiastic people to discuss making my someday a reality.  I've also been asked to speak at events on behalf of them.

To say I'm overjoyed would be an understatement.  

view blog reactions 

Truth in Dreaming Dreams

There are so many lies we as human beings listen to. We use every excuse imaginable to avoid success.  

We act as though accomplishments are something to fear.  We come up with every excuse to prove the imminent failure of any dreams we've ever had.  These internal put-downs are quite often the result of lies we were told in our lifetimes, which we diligently carried with us in order to avoid rejection or pain.

Growing up I was constantly reminded that dreams, especially mine, were ridiculous and stupid.  When I circled the modeling agency ad in the teen magazine, my mother and step-father laughed at me.  They told me the outfit I'd saved weeks to buy made me look like a bag lady.  They often made hurtful remarks about my overbite and crooked teeth, which were never fixed.  I was told I looked horrible without makeup, in harsher, more vulgar words.  I was told I was over-emotional and stupid, and that I would never be more than a factory worker.  I was told no man would ever stay with me.  My diaries were read and sometimes mocked.  I was made to feel worthless.
I was shy and introverted, but I did fight back.  I argued, stayed out longer than I should, hung out with friends they hated.  My own rebellion was comparatively mild compared to that of some of my peers, but it was still as much rebellion as I dared.  As much as I wanted to have my freedom, I was terrified of overstepping the strict boundaries I'd been confined to. I was terrified of exploring life, for fear I'd be ridiculed.
I was so afraid of living life that I took great pains to avoid it.  When my friends went skiing I told myself I'd probably get hurt badly.  When my best friend got married and moved into the cute little apartment in the city of Hartford, expecting me to rent a room with them, I told myself it would end badly and I'd only be a third wheel.  I told myself I wasn't smart enough to write anything worthwhile, even when everyone around me told me I should write; even though everything within me needs to write.  I opted out of events, parties, get-togethers, meeting new people, going to new places.  I settled for whatever seemed safest.
Lately I have joined a group of many other people who share some of the same fears.  Surprisingly, many of these people are successful and put-together.  I'd never expected anyone successful to have fears, especially fears so similar to my own.  Many other people are wall-flowers like me, preferring to shrink back from success entirely.  The fears they've expressed mirror my own; they fear others will think their dreams are crazy or stupid.  The group has been challenged to examine their fears, to share them, to discuss them, and ultimately to realize the truths their fears have hidden.  
I went into this with three goals.  The first goal is a major project involving a local organization.  I was certain this particular goal would be condescendingly laughed at and brushed off as a silly notion.  I took the initiative to create a proposal for my idea and delivered it by hand.  Much to my surprise, the proposal was warmly welcomed and even applauded.  I heard words like inspirational and exciting.  It was exhilarating, but more than that it was validating to be viewed as a worthwhile and intelligent human being.  
The third of my goals is a much larger one, which will take longer to achieve and much more hard work.  I've not talked about it much because it seemed to crazy.  It's not something so outlandish to have never been done before.  I'd just always assumed it was too much for me to expect of myself.  Within this group are a few people with similar goals.  One in particular shares many, if not all, of the same viewpoints I do.  I've gained a whole new level of confidence in my dreams through our conversations, and even in sharing these ideas with the group.  I've begun to see the possible reality in things I'd merely thought of as fantasies before, and have even dreamed some new dreams. I know this goal can be accomplished.  Some of the newer dreams might not, but I believe they're worth holding out hope for anyway.  One never knows what Providence might have in store.

view blog reactions | tags: #StartExp

Maybe...

Life is full of maybes.

"Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's."

"ADVICE, LIKE YOUTH, PROBABLY JUST WASTED ON THE YOUNG" by staff writer Mary Schmich, Chicago Tribune on June 1, 1997

The idea behind NaBloPoMo, aka National Blog Posting Month, is to encourage bloggers to post at least once per day, every day for one month. This month I am going to participate in NaBloPoMo's May 2011 theme, "Maybe."

view blog reactions | tags: NaBloPoMo, life

Gracie's Words of Wisdom

Last night my children and I watched The Nativity Story, a beautifully done movie depicting the events leading up to the birth of Christ. The idea was to give them a better understanding and almost first-hand view of why we celebrate Christmas and the importance of God in our lives.

There was one part that was difficult for us all to watch (though there was no graphic violence shown), the part of the story about King Herod's murder of all male children under the age of two. Herod had ordered this because prophets had described the coming of a new king, and because of his fear of being overthrown. My seven-year-old daughter Grace (whom was called on occasion "The Little Prophet" by a couple of members of our church in Indianapolis for her comments on various biblical subjects) had much to say after the movie:

"People should be loved and cared for, and babies should be loved very much. People should not be hated. They have to be loved very much. We have to love each other, not be mean to each other. They have to be respectful and very nice to people, and especially God. They need to love the children."

For those who don't know Gracie's history, she is a miracle child in every sense of the word. Doctors told me to abort her, that because of medication they'd prescribed during my first trimester carrying her, she would likely not make it through the pregnancy. Even if she did actually make it to birth, they said, she would have severe deformities at the very least. I was told she would have poor quality of life, and that I would have a special needs child. They told me the chances of her being "normal" were slim to none.

I prayed. One night her name popped into my head, along with the quiet assurance, "She is a girl, and her name is Grace." Even though the baby's gender had not yet been determined, I knew with all my heart that my baby girl would be fine. Doctors wanted a large number of tests done, but I denied them to do anything invasive. Even though several ultrasounds found nothing wrong physically, they said that breathing problems and cognitive deformities were impossible to avoid - but I was having a girl.

I went into labor at five months along and was placed on medication to stop contractions and steroids to help develop her tiny lungs. I was again told there was little likelihood of her survival. Grace held on and remained strong.

Three-and-a-half weeks before my due date, Grace decided she was ready. With a room full of NICU staff and lots of equipment, doctors told me to prepare for the worst. They told me to be prepared, because she would have to be placed on a respirator. They said she would be in the NICU for at least two weeks and my contact with her would be limited until she developed enough to breathe on her own.

On on June 12, 2003, Grace Kaye Elise (meaning "grace sweet and pure") was born perfect and healthy. Her APGAR scores were all nines and tens, she squawked just enough to let them know she was alive, and she nursed immediately. Grace rarely cried and was a happy, inquisitive and very intelligent baby. At all of her appointments with the pediatrician, she continually shocked them with her progress and verbal skills.

Gracie is a brilliant, strong-willed, confident little girl with a beautiful voice, and who has memorized and sings everything from Mozart and Beethoven to Taylor Swift and Colbie Callait. She wants to be a ballerina and singer, and maybe a doctor, too. She is full of wisdom and compassion.

 


view blog reactions | tags: Grace

You are made for so much more than all of this

It's funny, the chain of events and people who lead us to the changes in life, both good and bad, which bring us lessons and ultimately new-found strength and renewal. We face adversity, reach a state of hopelessness and feelings of loss and teeter on that dangerous knife's edge, upon which we must decide whether to dissolve ourselves into the chaotic abyss of despair, or to fall into faith, hope and overcoming fear.

It may seem odd that regaining hope and faith are the more difficult option, but in reality it takes great strength to let go of the past and allow faith to replace worry and fear. Being weak, allowing chaos to take over - that's easy. You don't have to work at being afraid. You just allow it to come in and take over your life. Fighting fear takes energy and stamina, two things that depression and pain drain you of.

God brings things into our life with a purpose and the intent of helping us to combat all of this. People and events are brought into our lives for a reason. Nothing is by chance, but it's up to us to choose the paths of our own lives. Our choice in paths can make our life journey very smooth and easy or very, very difficult. Not everything is a choice on our own parts, but everything does happen for a reason: birth, death, love, loss, joy, hardship, knowledge, pain.

My beginnings obviously weren't my own choice. I hadn't chosen to be abused or neglected, and ultimately rejected by my own family. Those experiences, however, have given me a compassion and understanding I would not have had without them. Though I have long recognized these hardships as learning experiences, I have also wallowed for much of my life in the pain they caused. I have made unsound choices which only resulted in further torment and hardship in my life.

I have spent the majority of my life fighting. I've fought not just those who've hurt me, but because I was so used to having to fight for love and respect, I've also fought those who've loved me. I've fought for love, for respect, for my own dignity. In my quest to fight for the help and understanding I sought for so long, I ended up fighting those who truly wanted to help me. I've fought my friends and mentors, and even myself.

When I wasn't fighting I was hiding myself away. My typical reaction to stress is to hermit myself away, hide from the harshness of the world and lock myself in my own little bubble. Me against the world - and life. When you've lived in fear and pain, you haven't really lived at all.

When you feel worthless and you're used to fighting, you tend to take on ventures that give you a sense of purpose and accomplishment. Something that tells the world you've been here, done something worth doing. In my case, it is Soldiers' Angels. If I've never had anything to offer, anything worth giving, then at least compassionate philanthropy is something I do have to give. When you know pain and loss and hardship, you can better relate to those who endure it, even if it's of a different category than your own.

Through the volunteer work with this organization, I met Shelle, a very strong and no-nonsense woman who has in turn introduced me to many more strong and beautiful women who have also persevered through hardship, each journeying through pain and loss into their own forms of healing and rebirth. One of these women is Jodi Rae, a sweet, loving, kind and compassionate woman who has no doubt endured considerable tribulation herself.

Jodi Rae authored a book, The Blonde On The Prairie, detailing her journey to overcome those trials and rise above them. Over a lunch with Logan, a dear friend in his own right, Jodi Rae signed a copy of her book which Logan then sent on to me. Even from the very first page, I knew they'd both seen straight through to my heart at a critical time when I had nearly begun to slip back into that abyss.

"It took great and powerful adversity for me to end up broken and discouraged, feeling un-loved and not worthy. That same adversity forced a mighty resilience in me to fight back and go on living.

When I began to live, I began to know love. Love yielded laughter. Laughter exploded into healing."

- From The Blonde On The Prairie, by Jodi Rae Ingstad

Jodi Rae, I believe that Shelle instinctively knew somehow that you and all of those other strong and beautiful women would hold the keys to bringing back the me that adversity tried so hard to destroy. Thank you for sharing your joy with me when I needed it most. I'm going to try leaving my barn door open, and let the joy come back in.


Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him. - James 1:12

view blog reactions | tags: life

For My Mother

I love my mom. As crazy as my family is and as much energy as I've spent trying to extricate myself from the madness of my past, my mother is still very important to me.

In the past I've written about some less-than-palatable times we've had. Yes, there were many. We've fought, we've turned our backs on each other for years at a time... and sometimes worse. Though our childhood was volatile and many times chaotic, with Mother's Day coming up this weekend I wanted to share more of her "whole person" with you.

My mother is beautiful. Large, brown doe-eyes and brown hair and with olive colored skin. Many people have said we look very much alike in features, except that I am more of a photo-negative of her coloring. She is young, but looks far younger than her years.

My mother instilled in me my love of crafting. Growing up, my mother was always creating things. She sewed clothing, quilts, even playthings and costumes for us. We were Raggedy Ann and Andy, Smurfs and many other characters. She made us incredibly beautiful Easter dresses and detailed embroidered baby quilts. She macraméd everything from wall-hangings to doll swings, and back in the 1970s we made flower arrangements from fake fur and floral wire.

My mother put her all into creatively embellishing everything she had a hand in. I remember one winter we were building a snow-person family, when one snow-man's head rolled off and got stuck between two of the snow men's bodies. We tried to pull it out, but they'd become frozen together. My ever-resourceful mom took advantage of this and disappeared into the house, returning with bottlecaps, a scarf and a jump rope. Our family of snowmen was quickly transformed into a snow horse, complete with reigns, harness and saddle. We kids took turns sitting on our horse while mom took pictures.

For my brother's baby quilt, my mother embroidered (before technology like an embroidery machine) a large diesel truck with all our nicknames onto it. She then made matching baby blocks for it in coordinating fabric. It was an amazing sight and looking back, it's amazing to think of the work and detail she put into it.

My mother and I are much alike in other ways, as well. We're both professional worriers, both have a tendency to panic (initially) in the face of adversity, and both turn into bulldogs to face that adversity down once we've gotten our bearings and taken hold of the situation. We've been through the same things, gotten ourselves into the same situations and struggled with the same issues. We've both had more than our share of bad times, both been "gluttons for punishment" and both punished ourselves for far too long for our mistakes. I've spent a lifetime being angry and focusing on the hurt. It was infuriating to me that she'd seemingly allowed so much to happen to her, and to us. Being the oldest of her four children only exacerbated my frustration. I wanted to fix it for her, to stand up for her, and stand up to her. I grew up resenting her for those mistakes, but having gone through many of them (and more) as an adult, I've realized her position - and that's it's not always as easy to "fix" as it might seem.

I've also realized that most other families (if not all) have their own skeletons. Our family is not perfect, and not at all close to one another. Most of us tend to distrust one another and the internal family wars go back several generations. There's been abuse of all kinds, the pitting of one against another, mistakes have been made and hurtful words and rumors spread. It's so easy to look at all of the mess and tell yourself they're fiendish, malicious and rotten.

The truth of the matter is, they're simply human.

If we were all defined only by our mistakes, most people would never venture outside their own homes. How many of us have never made a bad decision? Anyone who says they haven't is either in denial or a terrible liar. There are plenty of reasons and even more excuses for our behavior, but the fact remains the same: Nobody's perfect.

While I don't condone many of the issues our family has, I do accept that we all have imperfections. I have plenty of them, and plenty of regrets. I've not been a perfect mother - not by a long shot. But my experiences as a mother have taught me that regardless of the mistakes and bad decisions, we've all done our best to make the right ones based on our mindset at the time. Being wrong is a part of life. Horrible experiences are a part of life. And regrets, worry and mistakes are a part of motherhood.

I love my mother. I love her with all my heart. And though she is already aware of it, I will be there for her and love her and if she needs me to, I will take care of her.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

Love,

Your most petulant, quarrelsome and rebellious daughter, who's been there too and understands.

view blog reactions | tags: Mom, Mother's Day

The Obligatory (& Much Belated) 100 Things

1) I was born in the year of the pig.

2) I’m an Aries.

3) I share a birthday with Hayley Mills and James Woods.

4) My name (Shanna) means:

~ Hebrew: 1. Beautiful, 2. God is gracious; variation of Shannon; lovely

~ Nickname for Shoshana (Hebrew) "lily, rose"; short form of Shannon or Anglicization of Shaina. From Hebrew Shoshana ‘the lily of the valley’ or ‘a rose’ ‘you will find happiness’.

~ Generally considered to be a modern form of the name Sean, an Irish form of John. Shaina also means 'beautiful' in Yiddish.

~ Celtic/Gaelic Ancient God (Shannan)

~ Gaelic: little wise one (Shana, Shani, Shanna, Shannah, Shannan, Shauna, Shawna, Shannon), also connected to an Irish river Shannon 'old and wise'.

~ Shanna Quay: From the Gaelic "seanachi" - which means a 'storyteller', or someone who passes down the culture, history and myths of Ireland by word of mouth - as in songs and poems. It is pronounced Shanna-key. In Ireland, the word 'quay' is also pronounced like 'key'. (Many thanks to Steve Power of Shanna Quay - an Irish Music website which is sadly now defunct - for this lovely description!)

~ Old English: Lily

~ Slow Water. God is gracious (Irish/Hebrew). A feminine form of Shane.

5) My favorite flowers are soft pastel-colored daylilies and sweetpeas, white waterlilies, dragonfly columbine hybrid and dogwood. There is a day lily named Shanna. I also love the legend of the dogwood.

6) I am an INFP, and addicted to personality typing.

7) My childhood nick-name (given to me by my uncle Devin) was Snickersnot.

8) If I'd been a boy, my name would have been Shawn. I have a brother named Shawn. He rocks.

9) I also have a brother named Eric who totally rocks, too. And a sister named Shannon, who's also pretty awesome.

10) In all, I have four sisters and three brothers.

11) I have five children.

12) All of my kids have high IQs.

13) I have three boys and two girls.

14) My father's side is Irish and French were some of the original settlers in Cajun territory, Louisiana.

15) I have a 'thing' for geeks and/or nerds.

16) I think of myself as a geekette-wannabe-in-training.

17) I'm strong-willed, independent and stubborn.

18) I think I'm also nuts.

19) I plan on a career in Physical Therapy or Nursing.

20) And I want to be a web/IT geek when I grow up.

21) I also want to be a naturopathic doctor.

22) I am an ADHD crafter.

23) I love gory horror movies.

24) I also love chick flicks.

25) I love vegetarian food,

26) But I'm not a vegetarian.

27) I love chocolate, especially Hughes.

28) And Chicory coffee

29) I love Thai food (to cook and to eat).

30) I like to make soaps and toiletries.

31) My favorite scents are lemongrass, jasmine and any citrus.

32) My favorite color is green.

33) Blue is a close second, but really it's any color in the ocean-y colors that do it for me.

34) I love mermaids and Gwragedd Annwn and mermaid designs.

35) I even have mermaid Polly Pockets (which I stole from my daughters, tee hee).

36) I love and feel an affinity with Marlene Dietrich, who was largely misunderstood.

37) As was Marilyn Monroe.

38) I love crab and salmon sushi rolls,

39) And I sometimes make vegetarian sushi rolls.

40) My favorite band is the cure.

41) I am addicted to music and pretty much love any and all kinds, especially alternative rock.

42) I sing along with the radio constantly.

43) I want to sing with a band just for fun sometime.

44) I have a lot of friends in bands and music.

45) And not just in school bands.

46) I'm a craft addict.

47) I’m obsessed with sewing machines.

48) I have six of them.

49) I also probably have more craft supplies than Hobby Lobby.

50) Which isn't true, but I wish it was...

51) I love to shop at import stores and craft supply stores.

52) I also love fabric wholesalers.

53) I am a natural blonde.

54) Most of my friends will tell you that I live up to the hair color.

55) I'm also very intelligent. (No, really I am!)

56) Or maybe I'm just full of useless knowledge.

57) I love amigurumi and want to learn.

58) I also love Japanese Kawaii crafts.

59) I've always wanted a navel ring, but never got one (yet).

60) I went to two high schools (but most people know that already).

61) What most people don't know it that while I was raised in the Midwest, I first saw a cow up close in New England.

62) I’m terrified of spiders.

63) The South has bigger and meaner spiders. And LOTS of BIG bugs. Ew.

64) I've worked in some interesting places, including a sewing shop, massage therapy supply trade shows, an RV resort and a health food store.

65) I like my current job the best.

66) I have friends all over the world.

67) I'm most infatuated with Ireland.

68) My great love was an Irishman from Donegal.

69) We're still friends, and I still love and dream about the drunken bastard.

70) I was married to a Sicilian.

71) His ancestors ran a part of the Midwestern Mafia.

72) My ex's family was really into the stories.

73) I got really sick of watching the Godfather trilogy with my in-laws.

74) They also love the Three Tenors.

75) I got sick of that, too.

76) I did, however, gain an appreciation for La Traviata and La Boheme (operas).

77) I've never been out of the country. Not even to Canada.

78) I'd love to visit rural seaside Ireland and rural France.

79) I know a little French and want to learn Gaelic.

80) I listen to music from both countries.

81) My youngest daughter counts in English, French, Spanish and Korean. She's 5.

82) My oldest tested 2nd in the state of Wisconsin in the 3rd grade.

83) His principal called him "frighteningly intelligent".

84) My second-to-youngest had his IQ tested at 140. He was 6 at the time.

85) I first entered college in Interior Design.

86) I ended up finishing in Early Childhood Education.

87) Now I plan to go back to school for Physical Therapy and Holistic Nursing.

88) I love to write.

89) I once dictated an entire (original) story for a girl in a lit class (Doc's class - in CT).

90) I spent so long at it I didn't finish my own.

91) She got an A and claimed it as her own.

92) She later told me her mother planned to send it in to a magazine. I was secretly pretty pissed about that.

93) I still plan to write a book one day.

94) My favorite author (both for his writings and his beliefs) is Kurt Vonnegut.

95) I'm also really into Amy Tan's work. She's amazing.

96) I love history and historical fiction.

97) History was one of my worst subjects in school.

98) English and literature were my best.

99) Along with Biology and Allied Health. After graduation, I wanted to become a Radiologist. I put it off for my ex-husband and children.

100) I believe, above all, it's most important to do what you love.

From The Mouths of Babes

Gracie, my 5-year-old, is about to play some Noggin games on the computer. I need to first explain that Gracie is wise beyond her tender years. She's got such a beautiful sense of the world around her.

Once, when things were pretty tough around here, she came up to me and said, "Mommy, we've tried this and it's just not working. We just need to try something else now." Trust me, at the time and considering the situation, it was as though the Dali Lama spoke through my tiny little diva.

A few minutes ago, I told Gracie that today was Happy New Year Day. There was that wide-eyed look and the sweet little intake of breath that little innocent ones have when they're in awe and she said, "Really? Today is Happy New Year Day? Do we get presents on Happy New Year Day?"

"No," I told her, "Not presents."

Her response is one I wish for all of you:

"So Happy New Year Day is when we give love and share things, right Mommy!"

Happy New Year, everyone!

La vie est un lieu fou, mon cher. Que notre sanctuaire être les uns les autres

Our lives are so short and so limited to our own perceptions of what we're capable of. What's the difference between the couch potato who dreams of something more, and the man who climbs the Himalayas and lives his dreams? It's only faith. There is no wall, no separating boundary between what can be done and what we believe is impossible. Those dreams of something more can be realized with just an ounce of pure, honest faith. Believe it will be, believe there's a way. There is no such thing as "too late" until you're lying in bed, taking your last breath. Please don't wait that long. Make it come to be.

There are very few times when life throws you something pure and good and true. When it comes your way hold onto it with everything you have. Give it everything inside you and make sure there can never be regrets, because eventually it will end, however temporarily. Everything ends. Even true love dies, when the promise of "till death do us part" becomes a reality. See it, realize it, hold it in your hands and allow yourself to feel everything it brings to you. Release your heart from fear and negativity. Just be in it. Let it envelope you and heal whatever it is inside you that fights it.

A friend recently lost her mother. However devastating that may have been, though, there was something even worse about it: Her step-father lost the love of his life. Their beginnings were so important to them that they would return to the location of their first date on its anniversary every year... until she died on that very day.

When you see that chance, that one thing that has the potential to erase every other pain you've ever felt, it's as crystal clear as the stars over the sea, even if it seems completely insane to the rest of the world. Don't listen to them. Hold on tight and never let it go, even when all seems lost. And if you can't hold it in your hands, just keep it safely locked in your heart until the day your dream becomes reality.

True love can never be forgotten.

Adding to the chaos, just for the fun of it

As if things weren't crazy enough around this joint, with the kids' schoolwork and Tae Kwon Do lessons, church, my cleaning job, looking for a second job, deaths, health issues (of all sorts from lots of parties in my life) and all the typical chores of single-motherhood, I've decided to return to school. Oh yes, boys and girls. I am, in fact, completely insane. Or at least well on the way to it.

I've signed up for information on some IT training at a local college here with an excellent reputation and high-ranking. The 4-year degree training, after the boot-camp-esque pre-college program, is done on-line. This is a huge plus with my three-ring circus of a schedule.

For now, it's looking toward either small office (if I'm lucky - This area is pretty slim on jobs at the moment) or waitressing. The latter is more of a possibility, and after a quick pop-in hello to all of you, I'm off to apply at a few places in town.

This little drought in my own little job-o-sphere has been horrendous on my mood lately. I've been used to working in excess of 65 hours a week (and more) for quite a while. Not long ago I was working two jobs and had a third that was just a bit slow at that time (the cleaning one). One being seasonal and the other having done their own round of the lay-offs plaguing this area, and I'm going stir-crazy with little to do but drive my loved ones completely batty. (Sorry again for all that, Love... wanna share a straight jacket?)

As for the college business, I was once told I know just enough about computers to be dangerous, so I'm pretty sure I'll either fare quite well or kill a few of the main servers. We'll find out soon enough!

Catching Up

Yesterday was a pretty good day all around. Lots going on, and lots of stress, but Pollyanna prevails!

It's recently come to light that a certain Irishman I've had a crush on for a very long time had actually been interested in me for just as long, and I do enjoy the mushiness on the phone - just wish the proxinity issues were a little easier to deal with! I'm in it deep with this one, boys and girls...

Then I was able to speak with my Dad (which is difficult because of his lack of a phone of his own), who began the conversation with "Hello, my darling daughter!" We had a great conversation and I'm hoping to visit with him (in New Mexico) in the very near future.

The kids are now in Tae Kwon Do and have lessons four times a week. It's amazing how fast even Gracie is picking up Korean. They're having a ball with it, though as soon as I can afford it, Gracie would like ballet (uh, Mommy's not made of money, lovey!).

I also heard from both of my little brothers today(on Dad's side, we're not associating with the Mom side now, remember?). I love them to death, but we get so little time to talk, with one in Alaska and the other in far Southern Indiana. I'm so proud of both of them. I just wish I was in contact with my sister (Northern California)... Bygones, ok sis? Oh well, I love you anyway.

Other than that, I was working three jobs during the summer (one was seasonal) and am now back down to one - but looking for another second job. Money's definitely tight, but life is pretty much ok. Just workin' out the kinks, so to speak.

The amount of back support owed to me is now up to over 20 thousand dollars. Criminal charges have finally been filed, so wish me luck on seeing any of that - we could certainly use it!

Anyway, I'll post more as time allows. Most of you who need to should already know where to find me 'til then!