Embrace The Suck

I knew it had been quite some time since I'd posted anything here, but had no idea it had been since December. Where does the time go? Is there anyone out there still reading this blog.  I don't know what happened, but the words just quit coming. And maybe I got lazy. One's muse leaving town and being lazy is a deadly combination, especially for a blogger. Well if you're still here, I'd like to redirect you to a new blog. (I know that doesn't make any sense - not writing one place then starting in another. It's kind of like having 5 pairs of jeans, but knowing in your heart of hearts that you really need the ones that are sale staring you in the face.) The new blog Crazy Maizey   chronicles the life of my son's dog, Maizey. She has been diagnosed with cancer. We all feel very sad.  Right now Maizey doesn't even appear to be sick. She limps now and then, but can plays, swims, and beats up her brother like always. For some reason, learning abou...

"The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living." Marcus Tullius Cicero It's happened again. Someone I know died. While Michael Phelps racked up an unprecedented number of medals and Simone Biles vaulted her way into gymnastic history books, my daughter's father-in-law drew his lasts breath.  I know, I know. People die every minute every day. People die in numbers too great to comprehend. Dying is part of the circle of life. It's when the circle narrows to include someone you know or love that death is no longer something that only happens to someone else. A few weeks ago, my uncle went in for back surgery.  A man so full of life, it never occurred to him or any of us that something could go wrong - horribly wrong.  Complications that had nothing to do with his back sent him into another 4 hours of surgery from which he did not recover. And just like that, the once robust man, my mother's youngest brother, the end of a generation, died. No...

Misadventures of a Happy Heart A Memoir of Life Beyond Disabilities by Amy Quincy When E-books first came out, I was of the I'll-never-buy-one-because-I-like-the-feel-of-a-book-in-my-hand school of thought. Then I bought one. Then two. Then enough more to realize reading on a Nook was infinitely easier than holding a bound book and turning the pages, especially when reading in bed. Which is where I usually read. I also like the fact that I can make the font bigger to match my diminishing eye sight. I got a new pair of glasses last week and was amazed at how clear and bright the world looked through the new prescription. The saleswoman put a card with tee-tiny writing on it under my nose and I could read with no difficulty at all. Until I got home. Now I'm having to move my head either up or down depending on whether I'm looking far away or close up. Perhaps I should have saved the money I spent on new glasses and bought a larger Nook. None of that made any differe...

Your heart has grown heavy with loss; And though this loss has wounded others too, No one knows what has been taken from you When the silence of absence deepens. John O'Donohue* I attended a home going, celebration of life, memorial service, funeral yesterday. It matters not what a final farewell is called - it's still saying goodbye to someone you love. A sea of 300 people, most dressed in white (per family wishes) packed a church built to hold a crowd, but still bulged at the seams. Along with the weeping there was singing, praising, hugging, praying, and remembering. I watched as the deceased's brother walked stoically in front of the gold draped casket. As the priest, it fell to him to dig deep to find the strength to say the words that would comfort the mourners. Her mother and twin sister needed the help of others to get to their seats. That's when I began to cry. I felt their pain. I felt my own. I've been in their shoes. I've had to make that lo...

Your heart has grown heavy with loss; And though this loss has wounded others too, No one knows what has been taken from you When the silence of absence deepens. John O'Donohue* I attended a home going, celebration of life, memorial service, funeral yesterday. It matters not what a final farewell is called - it's still saying goodbye to someone you love. A sea of 300 people, most dressed in white (per family wishes) packed a church built to hold a crowd, but still bulged at the seams. Along with the weeping there was singing, praising, hugging, praying, and remembering. I watched as the deceased's brother walked stoically in front of the gold draped casket. As the priest, it fell to him to dig deep to find the strength to say the words that would comfort the mourners. Her mother and twin sister needed the help of others to get to their seats. That's when I began to cry. I felt their pain. I felt my own. I've been in their shoes. I've had to make that lo...

"Dance is the hidden language of the soul of the body." Martha Graham June 16, 2016 Dear Slightly Overweight Girl, Let's be honest your size and shape are not that of the ordinary ballerina. Ashamedly that's what first caught my eye. In a group of small girls, your body type singled you out. But here's the thing, I found it impossible to take my eyes off you.  Not because of your size - that faded away after the first arabesque. What drew me in was your grace. Your smile. Your obvious love of what you were doing.  You're being "you" in a field of "others" reminded me of the Hot Dog Princess I saw on FB last week. Invited to her dance class's princess party, this independent thinker, stepped into a room full of  satin and lace clad Elsas and Annas, wearing a hot dog costume. An article in inquisitor.com* said "Hot Dog Princess has become a symbol of hope for anyone hiding behind a mask of conformity." I...