Embrace The Suck

... do as the Okies do. Right down the street from the Ramada where Sweetie and I stayed in Tulsa is not one, but two of the largest western wear stores I've ever seen. That might not be saying much since I haven't seen that many western wear stores. When we walked into Drysdales we were greeted by a sweet, leathery smell,  and a sea of hats, boots, blue jeans and western paraphenalia. Except for being a bit pricey, it has to be a cowboy's clothing heaven. If diamonds are a girl's best friend, then denim is undoubtedly the same for an Oklahoma native. We gave ourselves away as strangers in a strange land when I pulled out my camera and started taking pictures.  Like being 6 years old and standing in Macy's storefront Northpole. Hoss Cartwright eat your heart out! The reason we went to this store was to check out the boots. But Sweetie went straight for the hats. OMG! What a hoot! I made my way over to the boots. A girl who could tell I had no idea a...

Sweetie and I just got back from a whirlwind trip to Oklahoma. Truth be told I think we spent more time in airports or crammed sardine-style in airplanes than in Oklahoma. Father/Brother Georges got married and it was my job as representative of my family (after my father passed away) to give my blessing on the woman he chose to marry. Now I don't know what he would have done if I'd gotten into town, given Maha the once over and said something along the lines of, "no I don't think so." It was kind of a no brainer that I would bless their union. How could I not. F/B Georges has waited for his true love long enough. It's time he got married and starts to practice what he preaches.  Maha is a beautiful lady. She is quiet and demure. But that might just be around people she doesn't know so well. I think she's got some party girl in her! It's kind of hard to imagine that a Syrian priest would find his Jordanian bride in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I mean, seriou...

Sometimes I like to jump on the social bandwagon and sometimes I like to blaze my own trail. Of course, the trail I blaze is seldom seen by others cause I don't like to call attention to it. Like getting a tattoo. I had my a small teesy weensy tattoo inked on my thigh, where no one can even see it except maybe my husband or gynecologist, before tattoo parlors appeared on every street corner and muffin tops were uncovered to show off flowers, or Disney characters or Chinese hieroglyphics. Today I'm announcing that I sit squarely in the middle of the (band)wagon train that is celebrating the publication of Jenny Lawson's (aka the Bloggess) book, Let's Pretend This Never Happened. When my pre-ordered book arrived in Saturday's mail I almost tinkled with excitement. (Okay this is not necessarily a good description cause really, just about anything - good or bad, like when I jumped out of the chair to swat the retching cat off the new couch - can cause me to unexpected...

I'm feeling kind of blue today. Actually I think I'm on the fence between feeling a tad angry and a smidgen depressed. With little encouragement I could go either way . And depending on which way I leaned, my reactions could be more explosive than "tad" or "smidgen" might indicate. Yesterday I went to Jacksonville's first Caregiver's Expo. I skipped most of the 100 exhibits, because, now that I'm no longer a caregiver, I didn't feel the need for any of the paraphernalia that goes along with the job - information on rehab hospitals and nursing homes, Jazzy walker demonstrations, sitter services. The kind of stuff cheery people who make a living off your mother or father or you fill in the blank's needs. 18 months ago I would have felt like a kid in Toys R Us at Christmas time. Oddly, yesterday it just made me feel sad. The whole reason I went to the show was to hear Gail Sheehy speak and sign my copy of her book. I read it just a few mont...

While waiting at a doctor's office I started reading a new book - The Call of the Writer's Craft by Tom Bird. What I got out of the first few pages is the same thing my writing coach and group have been telling me. In a nutshell, one must write on a daily basis (300-1o00 words, the number changes depending on who's advising), preferably in the morning. Bird's theory says to write in the a.m. because when you first wake up your left brain is still kind of drowsy and can't get in there to shut down the creative right brain with criticism. I'm not a morning person has been my traditional comeback. Well Mr. Bird, squashes this excuse pretty quickly. He wants his readers/students to get up 2 hours earlier than normal and try it. He uses words like "retrain" and "catharsis" which barely register in either side of my brain before daylight. But, for the 3rd day in a row, here I am up. The birds are just beginning to sing their good morning songs. T...

Sometimes having the National Geographic channel in your own backyard isn't such a great thing. (See Miracle post below about the baby birds). I watched and watched as both mama and papa red bird flew off to find food then came back and dropped the chewed up mess down little tiny gullets. I could hear the babies and the parents talking to each other while I did the dishes. Then there was silence. Then I noticed Mom and Dad were no longer coming to the nest. They'd land on the bird feeder then fly across the yard to another tree(s). Oh dear, I worried. This can't be good. Something bad must have happened to the wee chirpers. Visions of lions chasing down a baby zebra for dinner flitted through my mind. Oh dear. Did the babies fall out of the nest? Were they dinner for some bigger creature? Oh dear. So I went exploring. I stood under the tree where the nest sits empty and looked up. I looked til my eyes crossed. And then, I saw it. A baby bird, whose coloring perfectly match...

Photo: cbsnews.com Speaking of miracles ... Sunday night I watched the last segment of 60 Minutes. Normally I'm not a big 60 Minutes because sometimes I think the stories can be downright hurtful, or mean, or too sad for me. But since I was waiting for Amazing Race to start, I kept the station where it was. I am so glad I did. The Congo is one of the poorest countries in the world. The pictures of what I can only call squalor were unfathomable. How people live, work and raise children in a place like that is beyond me. But if you look closer, like Bob Simon from 60 Minutes did, you'll find the Kimbanquist Symphony Orchestra. A 2oo piece orchestra and choir under the tutelage of Armand Diangienda. I wonder if this is what Beethoven was thinking of when he wrote Ode to Joy. Diangienda, a commercial airline pilot after the airline he worked went belly up, taught himself to read music, play instruments, find broken instruments in the trash, repair them then teach others how to ...

"Where man sees but withered leaves, God sees sweet flowers growing." Albert Laighton For Christians, this time of year brings with it the joy, hope and promise of the Resurrection. Yesterday I participated in a world-class rejoicing of the Easter message. It was pretty awesome. I also witnessed some miracles going on in church during the Maunday Thursday service commemorating Christ's last supper. I had just learned that a dear church/family dear had passed away. My heart was heavy, my face streaked with tears. I sat in the pew, but didn't feel like being a part of the service. I chose prayer and silence as my form of participation. In my stillness I became aware of little "rebirth" miracles taking place around me. For instance: Several women prayed with/for/over people at the altar. I watched as one of the pray-ers gently rubbed the back and shoulders of the person who was kneeling. I soon realized that her touch was as much a prayer as the words being ...

... is downright woo woo! Lucy's Quilt In my cleaning frenzy yesterday I had yards of fabric to go through. Well, actually to cram into boxes so the tops would fit on. With it all spread out across the bed, the floor and part of the hallway, I started thinking maybe fabric manufacturers (like Potato chip makers and Tobacco companies) put some kind of addictive additive in their product to make people buy more (eat more or smoke more). I think my sewing machine has only been out of the closet once over the last year. But whenever Joann Fabric has a sale or sends me a coupon in the mail I seem to think I need to check out the quilting fabrics. Seriously folks I'm not sure I'll ever make another quilt. As I told my writing coach this morning, I can no longer multi-task. I can either be a writer or a quilter but I can't manage both. When I sew I leave trails of fabric and thread (and pins) everywhere I go. I turn the dining room into a sewing room. It could be Santa's...

Do you believe in serendipity? I have been writing some stories about when I met my Sweetie and how things turned kind of upside down between me and my Dad. My group encouraged me to keep going on the theme 0f "MY" growth instead of focusing all on caregiving, death, grief, etc. Which is where I thought if there was a book in me, that would be the subject. It hasn't been easy. It's taken 4 weeks and 5 "chapters" to even get to the end of our first date. Perhaps Love and War could be a good title. Anyway I've been stumped now that I'm at the point of story where Sweetie kisses me goodbye and I have to walk in the back door and meet Dad's anger head on. I think the stuckness comes from the same feelings tucked away in a hidey hole under my ribs. The story is hard to write from my perspective and not make Dad sound like the Big Bad Wolf. Which of course he was on occasion, but so was I. Anyway, I decided today to clean out the guest room closets ...