Embrace The Suck

I've done it. I've posted something everyday this month. I can't say it my best writing. I can say having a deadline did kind of jump start my productivity. It would be nice to continue the daily practice. I wonder what the chances are of actually doing it.  As if blogging every day isn't enough, I've kind of/sort of joined another community that requires daily participation. What that means is I signed up to get a word from the Society of St. John the Evangelist ( www.ssje.org ) as an Advent meditation, but the chances of me taking a photo or adding to the global Advent calendar are pretty slim. I have, however, thought about today's word, "look" off and on all day. If I wanted to continue with self-imposed discipline of daily blogging NaBloMoPo continues throughout the year. Each month has a theme. December's theme is joy. It sounds like a pretty easy thing to write about. The trouble is when I'm tired and stressed, shopped til I'm fe...

Sweetie and I went to watch the annual boat parade on the St. John's River tonight. Near the top of a high rise apartment building, the family I work for literally has a bird's eye view of the river. At this time of year small children tend to take a double look when Sweetie walks by. Even without a red suit trimmed in fur, he looks pretty much like the real Santa. Bella doesn't really get what all the fa la la ing is all about but she's beginning to understand there is something different in the air. She's picked up that there is some kind of connection between the tree with lights and ornaments, jingle bells and Santa Claus. She likes the pretty lights, but the mall Santa is down right scary. She wanted nothing to do with him. So we were all pleasantly surprised when she walked into the living room where Sweetie (it's been over a year since she's seen him) was standing and said, without missing a beat, "Christmas!" She kept her distance and w...

Blame it on the tryptophan. Blame it on the quiet that descended as the last guest left last night. Blame it on memories of Thanksgivings past. To everything there is a season …. holidays have their anticipatory excitement and all good things must end doldrums.  I'm feeling rather sluggish today. Just thinking about shoppers waiting in line for Black Friday sales this morning makes me tired. The sun is setting while a small breeze causes the elephant ears in the back yard to sway.  As I put away Mama's gold trimmed china this morning, I was aware of missing her. I'd felt it resting on my shoulder for most of yesterday, too. She's been gone for 12 years. That's 12 Thanksgivings, 12 birthdays and 12 Christmases we have had without her.  Even when she still sat in her traditional place at the head of the table, I did the cooking so it's not like I haven't had practice being the Thanksgiving Maven. I wanted her to be the Maven. I realized las...

Counting Our Blessings: Why We Say Grace By Anne Lamott NOVEMBER 28, 2013 – 8:00 AM – No matter how you say it, grace can transform an ordinary meal into a celebration—of family, love, and gratitude. We didn’t say grace at our house when I was growing up because my parents were atheists. I knew even as a little girl that everyone at every table needed blessing and encouragement, but my family didn’t ask for it. Instead, my parents raised glasses of wine to the chef: Cheers. Dig in. But I had a terrible secret, which was that I believed in God, a divine presence who heard me when I prayed, who stayed close to me in the dark. So at 6 years old I began to infiltrate religious families like a spy—Mata Hari in plaid sneakers. One of my best friends was a Catholic girl. Her boisterous family bowed its collective head and said, “Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts. …” I was so hungry for these words; it was like a cool breeze, a polite thank-you note to God, the silky magnetic energy of gr...

Chex Mix - check Pumpkin pie - check Clam Dip - check Fruit salad that nobody cares for except me - check I think I've got a pretty good head start on the cooking. 19 pounds of turkey, potatoes, and beans yet to go. I ready for bed. Instead of counting sheep, I'm going to count my blessings, Merry ME

I feel like I got a lot done today but when Sweetie asked me what, I could only name one thing. My day started with the thing all women look forward to - my annual exam. To my dismay my weight had not changed much but I've lost 2 inches. Now I understand why my back hurts all the time. Where would those 2 inches have gone, except to pile up on each other like an LA traffic jam at the base of my spine. As I assumed the position my doctor says, "so this could be your last pap." I was caught a bit off guard. I certainly wasn't in a place where I could do a happy dance. But it does seem like this is a cause for celebration, doesn't it? Apparently the people who make the rules on this kind of thing have determined if you have a history of negative paps and no HPV, then you only need the test every 5 years and none after the age of 65.  I'm not sure what kind of party to have, but cake will definitely be on the menu. The rest of the day was spent either in the...

I saw this  video  of comedian Michael Jr. posted on a friend's Facebook today. It really struck a chord with me. And it goes right along with Josh Urban's Kindness Exchange . The premise of which is to do a random act of kindness. It's that easy. Then you post your good deed at something called #kindness exchange, and Josh hangs a tag on a tree in his front yard that is illuminated with red lights to be a beacon of kindness for all to see.  Here's the cool thing about the Kindness Exchange. You don't have to know Josh. IT's cool if you do, cause he's a pretty amazing guy, but you don't have to.  You can do the same thing right in your own city or neighborhood. Think what it might be like if, for the rest of the year, when the spirit of Chrismas is often overshadowed by shopping, pushing, shoving, wrapping, baking, mailing, swearing, and crying. Not to mention all the family dysfunction that often drowns out the Christmas carols.  If all of us ke...

With regards to my previous post (see below) I'd like to make sure you all know I was in no way  judging people for the way their house looks or the way they do things. I was simply making an observation.  What's wrong with being orderly, Sweetie asked me this morning. I told him, as I'm telling you now, there's nothing wrong with being orderly. In fact there's a lot right about it. It's the way he is, not the way I am.  ____ So now that we've got that straight, I'm off on another subject. Today on Facebook, Numinous Jane (www.numinousjane.com) posted this picture and question... "If you could make an altar to your life what would be on it? How would the grace of you show up? " Dictionary.com defines an altar as a mound or table where religious rites are performed or sacrifices are made to the gods. It also says an altar is  the table   used   in   the   celebration   of   communion (of the Lord's Supper). In...

When I get off work at 8 pm I usually turn into the Oprah channel on the XM radio and listen to the Jenn Berrman show. Dr. Jenn is a psychotherapist who gives advice to people who call in with relationship problems. She's not necessarily a kinder, gentler Dr. Laura, but I don't think she's as in your face as Dr. Laura could be. On almost every show I've heard, no matter what the problem, Dr. Jenn suggests a full year of weekly individual therapy. I happen to know the power of this kind of intensive self seeking therapy. I just wonder who's got that kind of insurance and time anymore. The other night Dr. Jenn talked to a woman who asked whether or not she should stay with a person who wasn't as clean as she is. After asking some questions, Dr. Jenn told this story about how she and three other people did a show on A&E.  They'd go into a person's house and after a day or two,  they could tell what that person is like. I may not have all the details...

This did not get posted last night. In my defense, I was at work until after midnight so I couldn't finish it. I doubt the NaBloPoMo police are going to check up on me. Just wanted my cheerleaders to know I did my best. ME ____ I like to read. I'm not a fast reader. If you ask me a few days after I finish a book who was the main character or what was the plot, I probably couldn't tell you. I don't have much of scale for why I like a book or not. It's usually an emotional reaction. I don't look for literary flair, or big words. I like a story that grabs me at the start and takes me on a journey. I particularly like memoirs by and about women. Like Joan Anderson who spent a year by the sea, or Cheryl Strayed who walked the Pacific Coast Trail, or Elizabeth Gilbert who traveled around the world and got paid for the story of how she found herself. That's why I picked up Gilbert's most recent novel, The Signature of All Things. Gilbert went back to he...

Sometimes my daughter calls me just to ask for encouragement and inspiration. It is usually on a cleaning day. What's funny about that is I'm not the best of cleaners. You'd think she'd call Aunt Linda instead. The other funny thing about these calls is we usually talk for a very long time about things that have nothing at all to do with mopping the kitchen floor or scrubbing toilets. Yet when the conversation has run its course, one of us is usually in the mood to at least do a load of laundry. Sometimes Weneki, sometimes ME. Today is the first day in a long time I don't have somewhere to go until later, so I am still in my jammies. Good golly, Miss Molly, I love pajama days! I won't go so far as to say I'm in the cleaning mode, but I have swept the kitchen floor and changed the bed. There is a load of clothes in the washer and (drum roll, please) you can almost see the top the dining room table. Almost, because I still have one stack of papers that I...

This morning I took my friend Mary to the doctor. Mary is 93 years old. She was in the hospital a couple weeks ago with a severe headache and pain behind her eye. Her ophthalmologist sent her to the emergency room around 10 am. She was admitted for an overnight stay around 7pm. After an MRI, a CT scan, and lots of lab work, it was determined that, in her words, she had a "headache." Today's appointment was a follow-up. The bruise on her arm from all the IV sticks had vanished, but her eye and left arm were still black and blue from where she fell out of the car before her son could get around the car to help her out.  So the doctor is listening to Mary's litany of hospital complaints and reading the test results which is not an easy thing to do. It turns out, Mary's sinuses were/are blocked. Now you'd think that someone in the hospital would have mentioned this to the patient and/or her son. You'd think the eye doctors she saw after the hospital stay m...

Please forgive me if posting someone else's story is considered a NaBloPoMo no-no. But here's the thing.I've been nursing a small but nagging headache since about 5 o'clock. Just about the time the Tylenol was kicking in, poor little Bella erupted. Let's just say I was baptized and leave it at that. It's going on bedtime and I just can't think of anything to write about. That said, when I read this story, my whole body said "yes." In this crazy, mixed up world, I love knowing that the date cookies and apple juice serve as holy communion between strangers. Plus, I don't think I'll ever travel without a plant again. Thanks to Naomi Shihab Nye. I will for sure be buying a book of her poetry. I'm off to bed, Merry ME Gate A-4 By  Naomi Shihab Nye : As posted at: http://davidkanigan.com/2014/11/16/gate-a-4 Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announce...

Having Johnson around is like having my own on-call weatherman. "A storm's coming," he said this morning. "It should be here in about 3 hours. Lots of rain and then it'll turn cold." I've learned to take what he says to the bank. After the allotted time, as if on cue, the winds started howling, the sky lit up with lightening and hail began pinging off the roof. Maizey, who had been sound asleep at the end of the bed, woke up and started pacing. Neither dog likes boom booms. Since the back door was open, Sweetie and I watched as his beloved elephant ears were tousled by gale force winds. The sky was dark grey. When the electric transformer blew on the street behind us, sparks popped and sizzled. I went around lighting candles. Sweetie pulled a chair up to the picture window and watched for any sign that the neighbors' trees might topple. Then as suddenly as it started, the storm was over. There were branches and twigs the size of Christmas tree...

Seems like the Universe is trying to get a message to me. I've been bombarded lately with the idea of taking a risk. I readily admit that Merry ME is just another name fo' Chicken Little.  In the mountains, I realized that one of the reasons I don't try new things is because I'm afraid of being made fun of or embarrassed. I was in the children's department of Barnes and Noble today. One of my favorite places. There was a table there, with a whole Thomas the Tank train set up for kids to play with while their parents shopped. I couldn't help but overhear one little boy who really wanted to play, ask his mother time and again, to come play with him. No, she told him, you play by yourself. I think the kid would have been very happy to play by himself. But there were two other kids playing. It didn't look to me like they were being aggressive or mean. The table was big enough for several pint sized engineers. It was  obvious to me the little boy was too afra...

So Sweetie and I are driving down the expressway, almost home with a car full of groceries. My eyes glimpse. the moving images of an electric billboard. It took a second, for my brain to catch up, then catch on. Could it possibly be a that big a type-o? I asked Sweetie to turn around so I could get a picture. One thing I've got to say about this man o' mine is when I ask him to turn around, he usually says okay.  When we got back to the sign, I cracked up. Cause there it was in all it's misspelled glory. I suppose it could be said that the message speaks for itself, and spelling is sometimes overrated. Still, it makes me laugh. May you honer this day with laughter and celebration, Merry ME

I have spent the last hour since getting home from work scrolling through Zulilly ads. I came back to the bedroom to post something here. Alas I still have nothing to say that feels worthy. When all else fails, I fall back on gratitude. So today I'm grateful for feeling more like myself, not so scared and depressed. I'm grateful for clarity and insight. Despite my aches and pains, I'm grateful for good health. I'm grateful for people to love who love me back. I'm grateful for worry-ers. Sorry to make them worry, but grateful they care. I'm grateful for the sight of Bella doing the Hokey Pokey. I'm grateful for a chill in the air and blankets on the bed. I'm grateful Sweetie didn't pay the $180.00 to have the car checked out when all it took was driving it off the lot. I'm grateful for Ray at Avis. I'm grateful for Bear claws and Broccoli Cheddar soup from Panera's. I'm grateful for Chat Noir writing buds and the insp...

I needed these quotes today. May our collectice wisdom and prayers reach the heart of this beloved teacher. May you know peace. Merry ME

After 5 days in the mountains, one of the first things I said when I walked in the back door was something like, "I'm ready to move to the mountains." I didn't notice the delight in Sweetie's eyes, until a day or so later. "A realtor is coming by at 5 to give us an idea of what the house is worth." I've been waffling on selling and moving ever since Dad died. Some days I'm ready to stick a hand painted sign in the front yard and sell to the first person that offers me something. Then there are those days when I seriously cannot think of not living here without hyperventilating. The days in between fluctuate between move and not move. The pros on the move side are pretty straightforward. Downsize. Leave the ghosts for someone else to deal with. Settle down in a place I'll be til the end. The cons, involve packing/unpacking, deciding where to go, find a new place, getting there, settling in, starting over. I can already feel my breathin...

"At  3 p.m., all across the country,  people will be silent  and will acknowledge you  and honor you  or simply fall silent and let themselves feel  that your death is our loss.  Today, at 3 p.m. Pacific time, I will be thinking of you  and I will be thinking of those you  faced and fought who have also suffered and died. " Letter to an Unknown Soldier*   I'm from a military family. I was married to a Naval pilot for 20 years. In all that time I never had to attend the funeral of someone who died on foreign shores.  My father was buried with full military honors and rests eternal in the Jacksonville National Cemetery. I go to visit his grave a couple times a year. It always surprises me to see the number of headstones that have been placed since dad's funeral. " Where have all the soldiers gone? Gone to graveyards, everyone Oh, when will they ever learn? Oh, when will they ever learn?"** O...

My neighbor is dying. His fight has been a valiant one. He's been in hospice for a few days. His wife has not left his side. Every time he's been in the hospital she's spent the night on one of those god awful hospital couches. George was in a rehab place for close to 6 months. Doris stayed with him the whole time except for running home to take a quick shower. Sweetie and I have been taking care of Whiskers - George's cat. A great big fluff ball. He knows when the door opens to come out, meow, plop down on his back and present his tummy for a rub. I learned early on, that if I rubbed the wrong spot, teeth and claws would come out. A cat's way of saying, please don't touch me there. Before George got sick this last time, he made a few trips home to visit Whiskers. He'd sit in the car and Doris would put Whiskers on his lap. They had a lot of catching up to do. I'd like to take Whiskers over to George. I'm not sure George is even a...

I will keep my heart open and my eyes on the light. Not-so-Merry ME

12 hours in packed into the car like a sardine. I less person and suitcase. More wine, bread and cheese from the DeKalb Farmers Market. It's good to be home with my Sweetie. That's all folks, Merry ME

Lather Rinse Repeat I stepped int he shower this morning. Shampooed like I do every day. I reached for the lavender castille soap. Squirted some into my hand. And yup …. rubbed it right into my already clean hair. I suppose castille soap is as good for your hair as it is your body. But really? Is this the way the day is going to go? Perhaps I should crawl back into bed. I worked on my vision board until I heard the train was leaving for town. I didn't really NEED to go, but wanted to check out a few places the other women found delightful. First stop Mercier Apple Orchard.  Think apples, apple fritters, apple pies, apple butter, apple cider, apple stationery, apple decorations and just about anything else apple you can think of. Then Joe's BBQ. Then Owl's Loft. Then the farmer's market for pickles. Then the Olive Oil store. Then back to the orchard. I was ready to for a nap. When I got home Sweet Diane had glued my vision board. How cool is t...

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow I'm still in my jammies, under the quilt, propped up by pillow. If I crane my neck I can see out the window that the rains rolled in sometime in the night. The sky touches the mountain tops. We're almost to that stage in autumn when there are more leaves on the ground than the trees. Some, still hang on tenaciously, not yet willing to let go. Ah, now there's a metaphor for you. I guess it's no surprise to anyone that I have a hard time letting go. Am I afraid that if I let go, I won't remember? My mother's face? My father's ambiguous, stingy love? Even the crap things in my life that I'd gladly hand off to the Great Dumpster in the sky, come back, unbeckoned over and over again. They, too, define me in a way. If I bi...

The sky is grey this morning. The mountains covered in shadows. It looks cold. I'm on the couch again. With a push of a button the fire whooshed to life. I can smell gas instead of logs burning. There is no crackle or pop. It looks pretty, but I think I prefer the real thing. Hmm, smelling gas is not a good thing, is it? After some chatting with Carol and noticing half a dozen wasps in the tip top window I've moved into the living room where real fire sizzles. Ahhh, that's what I wanted. Some of the ladies have headed out to town looking for gourds. A few of us are working on our Popcorn challenges for the day. My mind wanders from one thought to another. I  can't focus. Not sure what's up. You know what? This is my play day. I'm giving myself permission to shut the computer, grab my book, throw a blanket over my head and play peekaboo. Later … Seriously folks, even F. Scott Fitzgerald could not recreate what has transpired today.  Suffice it to say wh...