Embrace The Suck

Amy & Frankie* It is with great excitement that I announce the brand new web site of my friend and writing buddy Amy Quincy. Please go check it out. Amy has a degree in Creative Writing which may have taught her the ins and outs of writing technique, but I think she was born with the innate ability to tell a good story. Amy's terrific sense of humor comes across loud and clear in each of her stories, even when the subject matter could be considered anything but funny. Amy is an inspiration to me. In my opinion anyone who decides to bike around Europe by herself is both brave and a little crazy. Amy is a "just go for it" kind of gal. Her enthusiasm is infectious. After spending just a few hours with Amy, I was almost ready to tell Sweetie I was all for buying that RV he'd been eyeing so we could see America a la Charles Kouralt. Thank goodness I came to my senses on the way home. Amy is the kind of person who likes adventure. I'm the kind of person who likes

"In hard times we think that no good thing can happen out of all the difficulty. Then, imperceptibly at first, some good makes a small beginning." Pat Livingston Lessons from the Heart If I could get to it - if I could even find it - I'd pull out my well-read copy of Pat Livingston's Bless this Mess to remind myself that there is a theory that in order for something to be born, there must be chaos first. I'd remind myself that what I see around me, piles upon piles upon piles of stuff, is really just the start of making an old home new; of making the house where my parents spent 49 years of their lives a place of new beginnings for Sweetie and I. Of course, if I were to find the book, I'd have to stop crying long enough to be able to see the pages clearly. And I'd have to find a chair that didn't have 14 boxes teetering on top of it like the leaning tower of Pisa so I could sit. And I'd have to find a quiet place without hammers banging nail stri

... only, I really don't want to. I just can't help it. I tried to post something last night. Every time I thought of what to say my eyes started leaking. My tears are always at the edge of my eyes ready to fall these days. My birthday was no exception. I was gifted with delightful presents, kind thoughts, and much love. It felt ungrateful to cry. So, I basked in the birthday limelight birthday, then wept in silence when no one was around. I just couldn't write much. Except, of course, at church where I'm like the spiritual version of Niagara Falls, I'm feeling a little less boo-hooy today. I'd like to extend a heartfelt thank you everyone who did so much to make my special day special. I've pretty much made it known that birthdays, mine in particular, are for celebrating. Yet, as my day approached, I didn't think I was going to be up to it. But, I was pleasantly surprised and my mood lifted with every card that came in the mail. On Friday when not

"My roomate got a pet elephant. Then it got lost. It's in the apartment somewhere." Steven Wright A few days ago I wrote about trying to organize my stacks of paper and make my desk not only more accessible but better looking. Sweetie followed my lead and got about as far as I did. We filled several trash bags with unnecessary things that we once thought were necessary. The very things that may indeed still be necessary but we won't know it until we're looking for it because we need it. That is the reason I keep so much crap. What if I need it? There was no Masterpiece Theater on last night but I was so stuffed from over-indulging at Carrabba's that all I could do was sit in my chair and flip through channels. I suspected if I went to bed, the bread/pasta/cake combo dancing the tango in my stomach might just explode. I ended up on TLC watch the Hoarders show. That is one very sad program. It is disgusting in a sad way. To think that people become so cluttered

" Moonlight and roses are bound to fade for every lover and every maid the bond that holds in any weather is learning how to laugh together." Unknown A year ago today, Sweetie and I stood together at the altar of a small Southern church and promised our lives and love to each other. It was a long year with many ups and many downs. Still it was one of our best. I've cried a lot lately. Sweetie is always there offering me his shoulder and a dry tissue. Tonight we treated ourselves to a movie and allowed ourselves to laugh. Laughing, I think, is a great way to start our 2nd year of marriage. Here's to you, my love. Here's to us. Wishing for you a happy heart, Merry ME

REUTERS/Yomiuri Shimbun Just when you thought it could, and surely would, only get worse, a miracle occurs. This four-month old baby girl was found amid the rubble and reunited with her parents 3 days after the quake. I have shied away from news reports of the Japanese disaster. It is too big for my mind or heart to comprehend. All I can think to do is pray. Perhaps, that prayer and the millions of others is the source of this miracle. May the Divine Miracle Worker be with you as you go through your days, Merry ME

I spent the morning practicing my waiting skills. I didn't do half bad. I might not have noticed the heat and gnats in the sandy southern car lot if I'd had a crossword puzzle or book to occupy my mind. Mostly it was fun to watch my son pick out a new truck. Well, not a NEW truck, exactly, but new to him and running, which was more than you could say about his old van that died on his way to work this morning. Mondays are never good days, but you know it's gonna suck when you're driving down the expressway and your car slows to a stop with only enough oomph to get it to the shoulder of the road before pronouncing last rites. Neither Johnnie nor I are much into "negotiating". I pretty much wanted to flash the biggest wad of money I've ever had in my hand and say take it or leave it. Since it wasn't my deal to make, I left it up to smooth talking John. We did the old, "let us think about it" then left kicking ourselves before we'd traveled

There is nothing like a catastrophic earthquake, tsunami and nuclear emergency somewhere else to make me stop and feel not only blessed but grateful. I am only one of the millions around the world watching in horror as news shows play videos over and over again of the too big to be believed devastation. I want to reach out. I want to help. I want for everything to go back the way it was. That is the way of disasters. That's also the way of loss and grief. I want everything to go back the way it was. In the beginning I was so numb and in shock that all my brain could do to handle the enormity of the chaos was shut down. When the numbness began to wear off and I began to feel again, it was almost too much to bear. Like the nuclear reactors in Japan, I could feel myself teetering on the edge of meltdown. Like those boats and cars and buildings flying about like tinker toys, I felt like I was being swept away on waves of pain. There was no way to get my footing and nothing to hold on

"The water is your friend. You don't have to fight with water, just share the same spirit as the water, and it will help you move. Aleksandr Popov Today water was most definitely NOT my friend. In fact, today, water kicked my butt. It is said that it takes 21 days to start a new habit (or is that break an old one?). When I joined the Y I really wanted to add swimming to my routine, to make it a habit. Maybe not daily, but at least 3 times a week. The pool is open from 5am to 9:30pm so you'd think I'd be able to find an hour sometime during the day to get my swim in. The trouble is I haven't zeroed in on an exact time. I just go when the spirit moves me. This is where I make my mistake. Yes the pool is open, but that does not mean there are always lanes to swim in. And if there are lanes that have not been roped off, there are sometimes as many as three people swimming in them. I don't mind sharing with one person. Two is getting way too complicated for me. One

"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o're frought heart and bids it break." Wm. Shakespeare When I started this blog, I titled it Random Thoughts because I didn't have any idea what I was going to write about. I liked the idea of having a place where I could come and pour out the contents of my brain at any given moment. I love having this space to write, create, vent, laugh, cry. I love how having a blog has connected me to so many people. At a time when I had to circle the wagons and hunker down with the demands of caregiving, I was blessed to have friends and bloggers to share my journey so I didn't feel so alone. I realized today that my thoughts are no longer random. Grief has taken over my heart, soul, mind and body. No big surprise there. I want to be gentle with myself. I want to give myself permission to feel what this journey is all about. Journaling, I think, will be good for me and could, perhaps, be good for others. The t

One of my blog friends, Caroline Mary, is a Girl Scout of the highest order. I didn't last one day past my nightmare week-long experience at Camp Chowenwah when I was 12. I learned how to weave a sit-upon from newspaper, bed down at night in a tent where sounds of bugs, critters and other girl scouts who were smart/experienced enough to go on such a camping adventure with people they knew and thus talked and giggled all night whilst I, who was on my own, tried to sleep but couldn't for the noise, and right an upside canoe that I had to purposely flip over so I could experience a) flipping it back or b) hold on to the hull until I could be rescued. I never, NEVER, learned to eat cold grits and scrambled eggs. Girl Scouting remains one of my life's traumas better left for the psychiatrist's couch. So much so that while in Savannah recently I steered way away from the Juliette Low house where the founder of the Girl Scouts once lived. That squircle was better left unexplo

“Marriage is not a noun; it’s a verb. It isn’t something you get. It’s something you do. It’s the way you love your parnter every day.” Barbara DeAngelis Today, in just about 7 hours, one of my very favorite people, my sister Linda, is going to marry her one time boyfriend/domestic partner, Ron. Although I don't remember Ron from their high school dating days, I do remember sitting on the stairs peering through the banisters when Linda would leave the house all dressed up for a date. No doubt I was singing something like Linda and Ron, sitting in a tree .... as bratty little sisters (I know it's hard to believe, yet true!) are wont to do. Theirs is one of those go your separate way/have a life/find each other through the Internet/rekindle lost love/live happily ever after stories you read about. Ron popped back into Linda's life shortly after my mother passed away and my father had hip surgery for the third time. My father was difficult to be around on a good day. At